Reborn Read Free

had finally found someone
who would be accepting of my secret. I’m still not sure I really believe in
psychics, but then again, who believes in humans that have wings? We barely
gave ourselves time to shed our costumes completely when I gave my virginity to
Max in this very dorm room. Sure enough, he eagerly accepted my wings. At first
his fondness for them exhilarated me. It had been a long time since I let my
walls down around anyone—especially after what happened with Jimmy—but around
Max a few bricks came loose. Eventually I realized Max and I didn’t click
beyond sex, and I couldn’t compete with my wings for his affection.
    Most girls would
have bawled their eyes out over a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream
if their friends-with-benefits didn’t call or text them all summer, but I just
felt like a weight had been lifted. Either from anticipation or panic, I’m
pretty sure my heart stopped beating for a moment when I saw Max’s text last
night asking me to come over. I should have said no.
    I’m so absorbed
in my thoughts I give a start that isn’t an orgasm when Max cries out in
ecstasy ten minutes later, his final thrusts deep and forceful. He eases out of
me, and we sprawl in his bed for a few minutes, both sweaty and breathing
heavily, before I crawl over him and search for my clothes.
    “I don’t want to
move,” he sighs as he watches me dress. My wings have retracted, so I easily
slip on my bra and tank top.
    “Maxwell
Johnson,” I admonish, hands on hips, “do no t cut your first class of the
semester.” I hope my playfulness conceals the irritation and restlessness
lurking underneath. “It’ll set a bad precedent.”
    He laughs and
reluctantly sits up. He’s still naked. He has broad swimmer’s shoulders and a
fit body. With his twinkling blue eyes, careless brown hair and the splash of
freckles over his nose and cheeks, he’s attractive in a boy-next-door but
unremarkable way.
    Max catches my eye
as I’m studying him. “Siobhan, I really like spending time with you. I care
about you. You know that, right?”
    I think he wants
to believe he cares about me. He wants to believe that this is more than
fucking. I just nod, stroke one of his cheeks with my hand and plant a chaste
kiss on the other.
    “I know. I’m
going to be late. Later, Max,” I say as I disappear into the dormitory hall.
    Seven minutes
later I’m climbing the driveway winding up to the Greek Quadrangle. An emerald,
manicured lawn hugs the incline on either side of it, and at the top sit nine
fraternity and sorority houses. Each is a red brick building with a flat slate
roof and concrete patio. The Gamma Lambda Phi house is the first one on the
right. Sunlight glints off our patron goddess Nike’s milky white wings and
tumbling red hair in the stained glass portrait in the window. She holds a
green laurel wreath in one hand and a bronze chalice carved with the Greek
letters ΓΛΦ in the other. Our alumni donated it to the house the
year I joined, but we almost had to take it down because it looked too
religious. In the end, the university let us keep it because Nike’s dove-like
wings are a part of the mythology: She flew over battlefields, crowning war
heroes with laurel wreaths and rewarding them with eternal fame and glory. Next door to us
is Alpha Rho, our on-again, off-again nemesis, and across from us is the Sigma
Iota fraternity.
    I cross our yard,
planning to sneak through the back door, and nearly collide with the neon green
blur coming out of it.
    “Little! Weren’t
those the same clothes you were wearing last night?”  My big sister’s amber
colored eyes assess me with mock disbelief. Her lime green spandex capris and
tank top flash under the mid-morning sun as she jogs in place. A matching
sweatband sweeps her auburn hair away from her freckled face. She holds the
door open for me.
    I smile brightly
even though I want to roll my eyes at her. “Come on, Victoria. You know I was
just with