Not on the list
Nola Crowley had been at university for eleven minutes when she saw her first penis.
Nola Crowley had been at university for eleven minutes when she saw her first penis.
Technically, it wasn’t on the list.
She was beginning to think that had been an oversight.
Nola stood in the doorway of a kitchen she had never been in before, clutching a bottle of lemonade, while a completely naked man searched through the fridge.
He was tall.
Very tall.
Broad shoulders, dark curls, warm olive skin and absolutely no apparent concern about the fact his dick was out in front of the milk, and me.
Nola had never seen one in real life before.
She’d expected the occasion to involve considerably more warning.
The man straightened with a carton of orange juice.
Brown eyes met hers.
“Alright?”
Nola forgot every word she’d ever learned.
“Hi.”
Brilliant.
He unscrewed the carton.
Nola’s eyes shot determinedly upwards.
His face.
Look at his face.
Faces were safe.
“You looking for Trix?”
“Yes.”
“Upstairs.”
“Thanks.”
He drank directly from the carton.
Nola remained in the doorway.
He lowered it.
“You alright?”
“Yep.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
A tiny grey creature suddenly launched itself from the top of the cupboards.
Nola jumped.
The naked man caught it against his chest with one arm.
It was made of stone.
Actual stone.
Small horns. Little wings. Glowing amber eyes.
The creature chirped.
“Morning, dickhead.”
It headbutted him affectionately.
Nola stared.
The creature stared back.
“Is that a gargoyle?”
“He’s called Rook.”
That hadn’t been the question, but okay.
Rook scrambled onto the man’s shoulder, claws scraping harmlessly over bare skin.
The man looked back into the fridge.
Nola looked towards the stairs.
She could leave.
She should probably leave.
Except that was exactly the sort of thing she’d promised herself she wasn’t going to do anymore.
Not because there was a naked man.
She was absolutely allowed to flee naked men.
Because she was uncomfortable.
Because she didn’t know anyone.
Because coming here alone had sounded much easier six weeks ago when she’d been sitting safely in her bedroom making lists.
Nola tightened her grip on the lemonade.
Fuck it.
“I’m Nola.”
The man glanced over.
“Rafe.”
Of course he was called Rafe.
He looked like a Rafe.
Whatever the fuck that meant.
“Do you normally wear clothes, Rafe?”
He looked down at himself as though only just noticing.
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“Shifted this morning.”
Nola waited.
Rafe waited.
“And?”
“My clothes didn’t.”
“Oh.”
Werewolf.
Right.
That explained the shoulders.
And possibly the complete lack of shame.
A voice came from the hallway.
“Nola?”
A woman appeared.
Nola recognised her immediately from the profile picture they’d been messaging through for the past week.
Trix was even more striking in person. Warm brown skin, long waves of bright orange-ginger threaded with black, and eyes that—
Nola stared.
Gold.
Actually gold.
Trix’s gaze moved from Nola to Rafe.
“For fuck’s sake.”
“What?”
“Put your dick away. We have company.”
“He’s fine,” Rafe said.
“I wasn’t talking about Rook.”
Nola snorted before she could stop herself.
Trix looked at her.
Then grinned.
“Oh, you’re going to be fine.”
Rafe wandered away, still carrying the orange juice and gargoyle.
Nola watched him go.
Then immediately wished she hadn’t.
Trix caught it.
Obviously.
“First one?”
Nola nearly choked.
“What?”
“Penis.”
“I know what you meant.”
“Was it?”
Nola considered lying.
That was old Nola.
“Yes.”
Trix’s grin widened.
“Oh, babe.”
“Don’t.”
“You’ve been here eleven minutes.”
“I know.”
“Maddox works fast.”
Trix hooked n arm through hers.
“Come on. Cass is upstairs. Ignore anything Rafe says, don’t leave food unattended around Rook, and if the downstairs bathroom starts whispering, use the one upstairs.”
Nola stopped.
“The bathroom does what?”
“It’s probably fine.”
“Probably?”
Trix kept walking.
Nola looked back towards the front door.
Her escape route.
Still there.
Then down at the notebook sticking from her bag.
The Fuck-It List was inside.
So was the acceptance letter she’d nearly talked herself out of sending.
Six weeks ago, Nola Crowley would never have come here.
Six weeks ago, she wouldn’t have chosen Maddox.
Six weeks ago—
Heat.
Smoke.
Blue flame crawling over the wall.
No air.
I’ve never even kissed anyone.
Nola’s fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.
“Nola?”
The kitchen snapped back into focus.
Trix was watching her.
“You good?”
“Yeah.”
The answer came too quickly.
Trix studied her for half a second longer, but didn’t push.
“Come on, then.”
Nola followed.
The house was old, crooked and apparently held together by magic, questionable DIY and optimism. Shoes crowded the hallway. Someone had hung fairy lights around a framed painting of a Victorian woman who looked deeply offended by them.
Rook flew past.
He hit the wall.
Nola jumped.
Rafe’s voice came from somewhere downstairs.
“You alright?”
Rook chirped angrily.
“He does that,” Trix said.
“He flies into walls?”
“He’s shit at being a gargoyle.”
They reached the landing.
A girl was sitting cross-legged on the floor outside one of the bedrooms, staring intently at her phone.
Her hair was green.
Not dark green.
Not subtle green.
Bright, vivid emerald curls tumbled around her shoulders.
Nola smiled.
“Cool hair.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Trix said.
The girl looked up.
“Rude.”
“You changed it three times last week.”
“Twice.”
“You were blonde on Monday.”
“Yeah.”
“Pink Wednesday.”
“Rose.”
“Blue Friday.”
Cass shrugged. “I was experimenting.”
Nola looked between them.
“You dye it that often?”
Cass looked horrified.
“Dye?”
Trix leaned against the wall.
“Witch.”
“Oh.”
Cass flicked two fingers.
Her green curls instantly turned bright purple.
Nola’s mouth fell open.
Cass flicked them again.
Green.
“What the fuck?”
Cass grinned.
Nola stepped closer.
“Can you change the length?”
Cass’s hair dropped instantly to her waist.
“And texture?”
Straight.
Then curls again.
Nola stared.
“That is so unfair.”
“Thank you.”
Trix touched her own hair.
“Ooh. Do me.”
“No.”
“Cass.”
“You made me do your hair Thursday.”
“And I looked incredible.”
“You always think you look incredible.”
“Because I do.”
Cass considered this.
Nola laughed.
Something cold brushed against her ankle.
She looked down.
Lumi had finally emerged from beneath the chair she’d hidden under when they arrived.
Her Moonfox sniffed cautiously at the unfamiliar hallway, silver-white tail sweeping behind her.
“Oh my God.”
Cass immediately forgot Trix existed.
She dropped to her knees.
“Is that your Moonfox?”
“Yeah. This is Lumi.”
Lumi regarded her.
Cass held out a hand.
Lumi sniffed it.
Then stepped past her.
Cass looked devastated.
“She rejected me.”
“She doesn’t know you.”
“I love her.”
“You’ve known her four seconds.”
“Plenty of time.”
A heavy thump sounded behind them.
Rook had landed.
Successfully this time.
His amber eyes fixed on Lumi.
Lumi froze.
Rook froze.
Nola looked at Trix.
“Is he friendly?”
“With animals? Usually.”
“Usually?”
Rook waddled forward.
Lumi’s ears flattened.
Rook stopped.
He lowered himself.
Then rolled onto his back.
Nola stared.
Trix stared.
Cass whispered, “Oh my God.”
Lumi cautiously approached.
Sniffed his stone face.
Rook chirped.
Lumi’s tail flicked.
Then she stepped over him and continued down the hallway.
Rook scrambled upright and followed.
Cass pressed a hand to her chest.
“They’re best friends.”
“They’ve known each other six seconds.”
“Don’t ruin this for me.”
A door opened downstairs.
Rafe appeared at the bottom of the staircase.
He had trousers on now.
Nola was grateful.
Mostly.
“Anyone seen my hoodie?”
Cass leaned over the bannister.
“Which one?”
“Black.”
“You own fourteen black hoodies.”
“The old one.”
“They’re all old.”
Cass stared down at his hair.
Her expression changed.
Rafe immediately pointed at her.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re looking at my curls.”
“They’re a fucking mess.”
“They’re fine.”
“You have split ends.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
Cass made a distressed noise.
“Let me do them.”
“No.”
“Five seconds.”
“No.”
“Three.”
“No.”
“I could make you beautiful.”
Rafe looked offended.
“I am beautiful.”
Trix called down, “He’s got you there.”
Cass turned to Nola.
“Do you see what I live with?”
Nola looked at Rafe.
Messy dark curls. Stubble. Broad shoulders. Crooked little smile.
Unfortunately, he did have a point.
“He seems alright.”
“Don’t encourage him!”
Rafe grinned and disappeared.
Nola smiled.
She’d been terrified this morning.
Not that she’d told Serena.
Serena had cried enough while helping load the car.
Maisie had demanded updates on everything.
Milo had hugged Nola for so long she’d eventually had to tell him she did actually need oxygen.
Then they’d driven through the concealed roads into Hallowick.
Past the wards.
Past the point where ordinary maps stopped being useful.
Into a town where nobody needed to pretend they were human.
And tomorrow, Nola started at Maddox University.
Her stomach flipped.
Trix bumped her shoulder.
“Party tonight.”
Nola blinked.
“Tonight?”
“Freshers.”
“I thought that started tomorrow.”
Cass laughed.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Nola looked between them.
Trix’s golden eyes gleamed.
“First lesson about Maddox. If there’s an excuse for a party, someone has already started it.”
Nola’s immediate instinct arrived right on schedule.
No.
Too soon.
She’d barely unpacked.
She didn’t know anyone.
She didn’t know the town.
She didn’t know what to wear.
She could start tomorrow.
There was always tomorrow.
Smoke filled her lungs.
Heat against her face.
I’ve never even kissed anyone.
The memory vanished as quickly as it came.
Nola exhaled.
Fuck tomorrow.
She looked at Trix.
“What time?”
Trix’s smile spread slowly.
“Oh, I really am going to like you.”
Nola reached into her bag and pulled out the little notebook.
Cass craned her neck.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
Nola opened it.
THE FUCK-IT LIST
The first item waited beneath the title.
Go to a proper university party.
Nola took out a pen.
Beside it, she added:
Tonight.
