How Not To Fall For A Dragon Chapter 88

**LEXI**

When I wake up I am STARVING. Not just hungry. Starving. The kind of hollow, gnawing ache that makes my stomach feel like it’s trying to eat itself. For a moment I just lie there, disoriented, then I glance at my phone and groan. I’m kind of late. I think I slept through most of breakfast. Which… Makes sense, I guess. I was exhausted. But I missed dinner last night and now breakfast too? That completely sucks. My body feels heavy and slow, like it’s running on fumes. The Academy didn’t wake me at my normal time either. I frown at the ceiling. Does it not realise I need time to eat? Or did it decide I needed sleep more than food? I don’t really understand how it prioritises things. Maybe it calculated that I was more likely to pass out from emotional burnout than hunger. Rude. Still, if I move fast, maybe I can sprint to the cafeteria and grab something before they fully switch over to lunch prep. So I drag myself out of bed and get dressed quickly. When I reach my desk, I hesitate. The jewellery sits there, neatly lined up. Necklace. Bracelet. Earrings. After a long sigh, I pick them up. Blake might have done some things I don’t like, things I absolutely hate, but that doesn’t undo the good things. I did enjoy flying with him. That part was real. That part was mine. I won’t let last night rewrite it. So I fasten the necklace. Clip in the earrings. Slide on the bracelet. It’s not forgiveness. It’s not approval. It’s just… Acknowledging that both things happened. The joy and the horror. Still, the memory of that crack echoes uncomfortably in my mind. I know he did it for me. I know that. But I didn’t ask him to. I didn’t want him to. He respected my request not to literally kill someone, sure. But he still deliberately, calmly hurt someone in my name. That part sits wrong in my chest. I don’t know how to reconcile it yet. Once I’m dressed, I throw my door open, ready to sprint toward the cafeteria and… Walk straight into Blake. I jerk back slightly.

“Huh? Oh… Morning.” I mumble awkwardly. He looks far too put-together for someone who was suspended yesterday. His hair is neat. His expression calm. Almost pleasant. 

“I have your breakfast.” Blake states, holding up a plate from the cafeteria with toast stacked neatly on it. I blink at the plate. Then at him.

“Thanks… Did you steal that plate?” I ask. He shrugs casually. 

“The Academy can return it, I’m sure.” He responds. 

“Oh. Right.” I answer faintly. I am clearly not firing on all cylinders yet. He steps slightly to the side, giving me space to take the toast. 

“Have your breakfast. Then I’ll walk you to class.” He says gently. I pause mid-bite and look up at him. 

“Uh… Aren’t you meant to be staying in your room?” I point out. He smirks, that familiar, confident, slightly infuriating smirk. 

“The letter said I am ‘expected’ to remain in my room. Not ‘required.’ There’s a difference. I am going to walk you to class. To all your classes.” He informs me. I open my mouth to argue. To point out that this is absolutely not what the Principal meant. But the words feel pointless before I even say them. Blake is going to do whatever he wants anyway. He has already demonstrated that very clearly. Even if he was technically required to stay inside, it’s not like anyone could physically force him to remain there if he didn’t want to. I sigh and take another aggressive bite of toast.

“Fine. But just walking me to classes. Then please try to follow the rules. I don’t want you to get expelled too.” I tell him honestly. Blake’s smile widens. I narrow my eyes. 

“What?” I demand. 

“You still want me around.” He says lightly. 

“And you’re wearing the earrings.” He adds. My stomach flips.

“You’re going to forgive me. Like I said.” He says gleefully. I glare at him. 

“You can’t decide that for me. I’m really upset by this, Blake. It feels like you’re treating my feelings as no big deal.” I tell him bluntly. I shove another piece of toast into my mouth, chewing harder than necessary while he holds the plate steady for me. His expression shifts. The smugness fades. He actually looks… Thoughtful. Maybe even faintly guilty.

“I didn’t mean for it to feel that way.” He says more quietly. 

“I know you’re angry with me. I plan to give you space. I just need to make sure you’re safe.” He assures me. There’s that word again. Safe. He tilts his head slightly. 

“Will it make you feel better if I stay in my room while you’re in class?” He asks. I blink at him.

“Uh… Well… Maybe? A little. It doesn’t fix anything. But it would help me relax a bit to know you’re following the rules. Mostly.” I tell him. He nods once, decisive. 

“Then that’s what I’ll do. Now, are you ready to go?” He asks. I shove the last bite of toast into my mouth. 

“Mhm. Yep.” I answer. He instinctively reaches for my hand to place it on his arm like he always does. Then he hesitates. His hand hovers in the air for half a second before dropping back to his side. I don’t reach for it. And that’s new. We start walking down the hallway side by side. Close. But not together the way we usually are.

Blake walks me to my potions class, and not just to the door, he walks me all the way to my desk. The room shifts when he enters. Conversations die mid-sentence. Chairs scrape hurriedly as students subtly,  and not so subtly, move out of his path. One girl nearly trips over her own bag trying to get out of the aisle before he reaches it. A couple of the wolf shifters glance down immediately, refusing to meet his eyes. They literally cower. It’s kind of awful to see. Particularly after I spent so much time insisting that they had no reasonable excuse to be scared of him. I defended him. I argued that they were exaggerating. That they were judging him for what he could do, not what he would do. Maybe I was a little off in that judgement. Then again… If they hadn’t been bothering me, they wouldn’t have any reason to be scared. Still, the uneasy feeling in my stomach doesn’t go away. The problem, I think, is that while they might have been bullies, all Blake really did was position himself as a bigger, scarier bully. I don’t want to scare people into compliance. I don’t want respect through fear. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s the fastest way. It’s definitely the most straightforward way. No more subtle cruelty. No more whispers. Just consequences. But I don’t want to believe that it was the only solution. Yeah, I probably haven’t been dealing with the issue all that well. Ignoring it didn’t exactly fix it. But there has to be some middle ground between sitting back and taking it and literally going to murder someone. When Blake reaches my desk, he pauses just long enough to make sure I’m seated, then gives the room one last sweeping look before turning and leaving. No words. No threats. He doesn’t need them. When the door closes behind him, the tension doesn’t immediately disappear. I’m kind of nervous. I don’t think people are going to bother me today, not after what Blake did, but I don’t really know what to expect. Retaliation? Silence? The answer… Nothing. People pretty much ignore me. No one bumps into me. No one whispers loud enough for me to hear. No snide comments. No fake apologies. Just… Distance. Which is a nice change, I guess? But it doesn’t feel great either. It feels like I’m radioactive. Professor Matthews arrives right on time, setting his case of potion vials on the front desk.

“I have an announcement.” He says, his tone more formal than usual. He clears his throat loudly and pulls out a piece of paper, smoothing it flat before reading.

“Starting later this afternoon, there will be an update released on the SCRI application. Due to the ongoing misuse of the application, several changes are being implemented to our social media policy.” He starts. A ripple moves through the room. Subtle. Uneasy.

“First, a moderator will be added to the application. This moderator will actively monitor all public posts. Any inappropriate photos, videos, comments, or posts will be flagged and removed.” He tells us. There are more people shifting in their seats.

“Additionally, accounts responsible for such posts will be flagged internally. While anonymous posting will remain available for the purpose of allowing students to ask questions without embarrassment or fear of ridicule, anonymity will not extend to administrative oversight. All activity will be traceable.” He explains. A couple of students visibly stiffen at that.

“Any account flagged three times for violating policy will have its ability to post publicly or send messages revoked. The account will be restricted to academic communication only. Further violations may result in broader disciplinary action.” He pauses briefly before continuing.

“If a restricted student believes they require communication privileges for legitimate academic or personal reasons, they may apply to the moderator for limited reinstatement, subject to review.” He finishes as he lowers the paper slightly and looks around the room.

“In summary, the freedoms you have enjoyed on the application until now are being revoked due to consistent misuse. If you are using the application appropriately, you should experience no disruption.” He concludes then folds the paper neatly. 

“That is all.” He says firmly. I have to fight the urge to clap. No more horrible posts. No more anonymous cruelty spiralling unchecked. This is fantastic! I beam without meaning to, and Professor Matthews’ eyes flick to mine briefly. He gives the tiniest, almost imperceptible smile in return before returning to his usual professional expression. An update like that isn’t small. It probably took weeks to set up. Coding changes. Policy revisions. Finding someone willing to be the moderator. This wasn’t a last-night decision. Which means they haven’t been ignoring it. The principal must have set this in motion weeks ago. Maybe even before things escalated. The thought settles something in my chest. Feeling much better than I did when I woke up, I pull out my notebook and settle in for what is shaping up to be a surprisingly good day.