Kenzie? My heartbeat quickens hurriedly, and I look away for a moment, afraid I'll blush under Logan's scrutinizing gaze.

"Is he…on the swim team?" I ask, trying not to sound too eager. But I am, and even you can't blame me. The guy is gorgeous.

"Yeah." Logan replies, not indicating noticing my slightly rising voice. "Captain, now."

I draw in a deep breath of air, and smile subtly. "Cool. He can give me some pointers on my strokes."

"I thought you said your grandfather gave you lessons." He frowns, not understanding.

"He did." I say quickly, and sweep a tumbling lock of short, wavy brown hair out of my eyes. "I just haven't swum in a while, since coming here."

"Mia, you've been here for what, three days?" Logan's voice is skeptical, dripping with accusation and disbelief.

"I have to practice daily to keep up…" I supply, shrugging.

"Whatever." He mutters, and takes another long swig of water. "You should sign up for fencing, too."

"Maybe," I reply nonchalantly. "If swimming doesn't take up all of my free time."

Logan grunts in mock annoyance, and turns his head slightly, his eyes scanning the lingering crowd for something. No, not something. Someone. "Have you seen Gwen at all today?"

"Yeah. At breakfast." I supply, and slip another forkful of lettuce into my mouth. Once swallowing, I ask, "Why?"

"I just figured she'd be at dinner by now," He shrugs.

"Maybe she's working at the library?" I offer. Logan knits his brow in thought, and then shakes his head eagerly.

"No, her shift starts at 8:30 today." Logan retorts knowingly. He pulls out his phone, and skims his index finger across the screen, checking his inbox, just as I had done earlier. Wow, we were pathetic.

"Anything?"

"Just a text from Kenzie about training in the morning." Logan mumbles, and lets out a huffy, frustrated sigh. "Ajax's been on my ass since…"

"Since…?" I prompt, staring at him expectantly. He chomps down on his lower lips, and averts his eyes, not wanting to glance at my own piercing gaze. "Since what, Logan?"

"Nothing." He mumbles, and stares ahead at the wall behind me. I frown at him, and continue picking at my salad.

We sit in silence for a moment, our eyes glued to the scruffy wooden tables.

"Well…uh, I guess I'll see you later." Logan says, and stands up.

"Mmhm." I grunt, and shovel another heap of lettuce into my mouth. He smiles wanly, and exits the café. I chew the wilted lettuce thoughtfully, my thoughts conjuring Logan's reasoning for being so…so what? So weird? So reserved? Not like he owed me anything, but I don't like getting cliff-hangers. Why was Ajax upset with him? Had they had a falling out?

As I dump my tray and stride for the door, I notice more lingering eyes on me than usual. I turn slightly, to get a glimpse of them. Blonde heads, dotted with a few brunette and auburn. One appears to be getting closer, this one blond. I turn all the way around, and find myself face to face with her piercing blue-gray eyes.

"Hey," I find myself say breathily, the rest of my words caught in my throat.

"Hello." She replies coolly, her eyes looming over my neck. I instinctively finger my dog tags, and paste a cordial smile on my face.

"And you are?"

"Constance." Her lips turn upward in a knowing smirk, as if I should know her already. "Constance Chevalier."

"Can I call you Connie?" I say, trying to sound as innocent as possible. "Constance is so…formal."

"When I know your name, you can." She retorts smoothly. My smile deepens. I like her instantly.

"Miami." I croon, and sweep my bob off of my shoulders casually. "Miami Davis."

"Of New Orleans?" Her eyes light up with curiosity, and I nod. "My grandmother is Helene Chevalier. Perhaps you've heard of her?"

"Yes, she was a good acquaintance of my grandfather, Forestier Mathieu-Davis." I retort smoothly. "They attended many of the same operas."

"Grandmama always loved her Italian singers, though she could understand none of them." Connie laughs softly, her eyes clouding over slightly with remembrance. "Did you attend any?"

"No," I admit sheepishly. The haughty Italian singing was always too much for me. "I was usually at a friend's party or something whenever Grandfather went to the opera."

Constance nods politely, and then pulls out a slim envelope from her plush tan leather DKNY purse. "Here," She says sweetly, and places the envelope in my hands. "An invite to my friend Louise Prevost's annual Welcome Back party."

I feel my jaw widen, and instantly snap it shut. I lick my lips slightly, and reply, "Tell her I'll be there."

Constance smiles brightly, and leans closer towards me, her voice dropping to a meager whisper. "Be sure to have a date."

"Ok." I stammer, and bite my now-moist lips. "See you later, I guess?"

"Yeah." Her smile turns wan, and she remarks, "I'm in your Calculus class with Quinn."

"You're…" I stammer slightly, my face contorting in thought. The realization hits me a moment letter, and I remember her sitting in the front row, beside two other blonde girls. "You are!"

She laughs at this and says, "You'd never know, since Quinn seems to be the only one you have eyes for."

"We're both taken." I feel myself practically bark. "By other people."

"Oh." Constance murmurs, and looks at the floor.

"We're just friends," I supply quickly.

"Sure." She smirks, and pulls her purse closer to her chest. "See you in Calc, Miami."

"See ya." I mumble, and head outside. The brisk early autumn wind slaps at my cheeks, and I fold my arms to my chest, trying to keep myself warm. I take long, brisk strides toward Valhalla, and feel my face turn red from the cold.

On entering Valhalla, my body instantly warms, and I'm grateful for the ever running heater in the dorm house. A few girls mingle in the common room, but I climb the stairs hurriedly, wanting to take a hot shower, do my rigorous Calc homework, and crash.

Sliding my key into the lock, I push on the door, and gape at a vivacious Kayla making out with one of the scrawny guys from the elevator.

The scrawny guy pulls away from her immediately, and his face turns a dark, scarlet.

"Don't mind her," Kayla croons, and lets fingers trail along his chest. "She's just my roomie."

"I…t-think I better go." The guy stammers, and runs out of the room. I bite back a boisterous laugh, and smirk at Kayla.

"So much for a tan six pack." I say, and kick off my boots.

"That's not my preference in men," Kayla retorts coolly, and I'm shocked at her calm demeanor after having been found out by moi. "I prefer mine stringy and smart."

"Hmm," I murmur, raking my fingers through my hair smoothly. "Never expected you to be into nerds."

"Never expected you to care." She mumbles, and collapses on her bed. Kayla sweeps her long auburn locks off of her shoulder carelessly, and lets out a breathy sigh.

I bite back the words I know will result in a serious argument, and head into our shared bathroom, ready for a serious hot shower.