My Eros (Modern Cupid and Psyche Dirty)

From now on, there will be no shortage of people coming to your protection.

The words are a little too cryptic for me, and the terrifying calmness of his tone considerably worrying, but because I'm already running late for my next class, I can only nod and hurriedly say goodbye in my mind before dashing out.

We'll talk later, okay?

Hello?

The silence from the other end drags on as I work my way up two more flights of stairs, but I'm not sure if it's deliberate or not. Note to self: Visit the library and ask Ginny for an idiot's guide to divine telepathy.

Thoughts of him continue to nag at me, and I start gnawing on my lip as I find myself dissecting his words from earlier. It's almost as if the god has already set things in motion, but even if I did...do I really have any reason to worry about it? The god has only virtually sworn to punish my attacker for hurting me, and whatever steps he's taken...it can only be for the better.

Right?

Something about the whole thing still bothers me, but I make an effort to push all divine thoughts aside as I finally make it to the rooftop. Scientia classes are usually nothing special, but Rosethorne being Rosethorne, theirs happen to be an over-the-top glass dome that also doubles as a state-of-the-art planetarium.

A lot of our school's mean girls are also in this class, and they usually enjoy making this big bullying fuss every time I have to walk past them. Most times, they'll stare, sneer, and laugh like I'm a living joke. Other times, when they're feeling a little extra, they'll start chanting 'un-luscious' and get the whole class laughing behind my back. It's a Rosethorne thing apparently, a term used to describe all the girls who have tried (and supposedly failed) at snagging the professor.

Now, however...

Huh.

The hate is definitely still there, but none of them cares to meet my eyes for some reason.

Whatever.

Our pipe-smoking professor has just walked in, and I hurry to my seat as fast as I can. Although Professor Hondros looks more like a kind and gentle Santa in tweed, he's anything but, and there's nothing he hates more than seeing students walking around in his class with no valid reason.

Curriculae these days no longer include old-school fields like biology, chemistry, or physics. It just didn't make sense to keep them when most of their principles no longer universally apply, if not ceasing to exist completely. I mean, take gravity for instance. Pre-3rd humans used to classify it as a key element in aerodynamics...until, of course, the day the war happened, and they saw gods flying all the way up to the earth's exosphere...sans wings.

Although it took several years of heated debates and symposiums, Post-3rd educators eventually agreed to create the high school catchall subject we now call Scientia.

On paper, it's described as a course of study that comprehensively encompasses quantifiable elements, objects, and processes with divine aspects. But if you want the CliffsNotes version, you just need to employ a two-rule litmus test. Does it involve the gods? Can you use a formula to explain it?

If you answer 'yes' to both questions, then congratulations: you've just stumbled upon your first foray into the ever-shifting world of Scientia, and—-holy Greek shit, did I just hear the professor say what I thought he said?

Professor Hondros is normally the assign-em-and-leave-them type, but he's obviously in the mood for change since he's just asked us to find a lab partner each...which is not good at all. New Halyna is a lone she-wolf, and playing nice is no longer in the cards. Maybe I can just—-

"Sup, Mariposa. Let's be partners?"

A guy slides into the seat in front of me, and I recognize him right away. "Thanks, but no thanks." Cad is one of Rosethorne's most popular and longed-for Year 12 boys, and some of the girls even have printed photos of the lacrosse athlete taped to their locker doors. Him spending even just five seconds in my company can easily translate to fifty more girls adding me to their hate lists, and—-why is he filling out the sign-up form with both our names?

"I just said we can't be partners," I protest.

"Yes, we can," he counters, and my jaw drops when he just ups and leaves to submit the sign-up form to the professor. Cad is all smiles when he saunters back, but I only scowl back in return.

"Come on, give me a chance. I'm on your side, remember?"

He's on my what?

I gape at him from across the lab table we're now officially sharing for the duration of the semester. We've never talked before this, so what's there for me to remember?

Cad starts to frown as the silence between us lengthens. "You really don't know?"

"Are you high?" I ask finally. It's the only reason I can think of that would explain him suddenly acting like we're bosom buddies.