His dorm wasn't quite what I had expected. A few band posters hung, ripped at the corners from years of wear; one full-sized, half-made bed on the left side, a desk with a closed laptop on the right. None of it was cohesive, and a few loose clothes and jackets scattered the room in a light mess.

Jasen quickly began to pick up a few of the articles from the floor, tossing them into a mostly empty laundry basket at the foot of the bed, just in front of the dresser. At the back of the room was the door to the restroom, a small floor mat down in front of it. Most of the colours were shades of grey, brown, or tan, with a bit of vibrancy splashed in from clothes, posters, and Jasen's bag leaning against the bed.

It was foreign to me, this room. My room was much tidier; almost to a fault. Bed nearly made every morning, clothes always folded; I would put them away the second I came back from the laundromat.

Jasen's room was disorganised, just like he was.

He sat at the chair in front of the desk, a black padded chair on wheels; but the wheels didn't work so well against the shag carpet floor.

Still, he spun the thing around one time as he got comfortable in the seat.

I still stood in front of the main door, just staring at him.

"So?" He asked, suddenly breaking the spell of awkward silence. "What do you think of mi casa?"

"I think I'd prefer to be in my own dorm," I said with a slight huff.

"And I'd rather you not be in mine, but here we are." Though it almost sounded like an insult, he wore that same smug grin. He spun in the chair one more time, as if just making sure it could still do that. And then he stood and stretched again. "Well," he said, "You're welcome to sit on the bed and read that book for a while." With giddy hands, he added, "Time for my shower!"

I almost scoffed at that. He quickly made his way to the dresser — just beside the bathroom door — and took no more than a few seconds grabbing some clothes from the half-opened drawers before making his way to the bathroom. There, he clicked the door shut.

This room couldn't have been very large in of itself, but with him in the bathroom at the other end of it, I could feel the unease creep to my chest. A shortness of breath, so mild I could have easily missed it if not for my acute understanding of this curse we were under. If I stayed where I was, there was no doubt I'd eventually pass out; and Jasen would, too.

I sighed, already sick and tired of this. Like some sick game, the magic toyed with us like pawns.

I walked over to the restroom, sitting down on the carpet and leaning my back against the door. Through the wall, I could hear the water begin to run, the slight steam which crept from beneath the closed door; a mild warmth at the base of my spine.

I crossed my legs, plopping the book down in my lap. I stared at the cover for a moment. It was a dark, royal purple, and in bold gold letters it spoke: Casting and Uncasting.

I wasn't sure if this book could tell me how to uncast a proximity spell, but it was definitely worth reading through anyways. I opened the cover, my eyes scanning page one.

By page 5, I'd stopped absorbing the information written down. Instead, my mind wandered.

I hadn't thought about it before, but why is it that the spell affected me from the front door of the dorm, but not while watching Jasen at his game?

The dorm room wasn't tiny; but it was small. The distance from the door to the shower couldn't have been more than 20 feet or so; but while playing on the courtyard, Jasen had easily been 50-60 feet away from me at times. Never once had I felt dizzy or nauseous then.

It was almost as if the spell knew I had been watching the Packfall game. That I had been there with Jasen. But with him in the shower and myself in the main room, the spell must have thought that was more than just physical separation — but emotional separation as well.

I mulled about the concept in my mind. It made sense; a simple proximity spell would have prevented two people from being apart for a certain distance or length of time. But a love spell — the spell from which this proximity spell had originated from — was a mind-altering spell which could control emotions.

And although the proximity spell clearly hadn't changed our emotions, the spell itself likely could be affected — either worsened or eased — by the way that we felt.

I let the air exhale through my teeth, my hand in a fist on the book's page. If what I was thinking was true, then anytime Jasen and I shared a moment that wasn't fuelled by hate — such as whenever I was watching him play Packfall — we could be apart by longer distances. But the more I hated him, the harder the spell pushed us to be together.

I felt the frustration stiffen at my shoulders, biting my lip as I tried to reread the page. So far, the book was covering the same old basics of spell casting. I fwipped through the pages, finally landing on a chapter about uncasting, and began to read again there.

I knew a little of the basics about this, but I wouldn't learn it more in-depth until next semester.

Most spells could be reversed through a simple reversal spell; a second spell which would undo the first. It wasn't as if I hadn't thought of it, but typically, the reversal spell only worked on inanimate objects. I'd never heard of it working on people.

But for as much as I knew, as I continued to read I learned something new.

It was written right there in plain, black ink. Cursive in font.

Some spells cannot be reversed, particularly spells which affect the mind; for these, the spell's wish must be fulfilled in order for the spell to be uncasted.

I had always been told in my classes that any spell can be undone. It was a way for the professors to get us to reverse spells and then try them again if they didn't come out how we wanted them to; a sort of "erase the mistake and try again" mantra.

But a mind spell wasn't something we practiced in class. In fact, most mind-altering spells were not just forbidden, but illegal. Certain ones could still be used — simple ones, which alleviated nervousness, nausea, or cured sickness.

The reality of what I'd done that evening only then truly sunk in. Not only had I practiced a forbidden spell, but the spell I'd initially casted — a love spell — was illegal. I wouldn't just be expelled for that; I could go to jail.

The fact that it didn't work would help my case — proximity spells were tricky, but not illegal, so long as both parties consented.

Except he — Jasen — hadn't.

Simple proximity spells were often used as a party game, namely at weddings or balls. But those proximity spells were often reversed by a sort of 'safe word', so that either party could back out at any time.

It was something I had so stupidly forgotten to add to mine.

Typically, a love spell could be reversed by a kiss — and a true proximity spell, especially one as complicated as the one I'd casted, was no different. And not just any kiss; but a kiss that was enthusiastic by both parties involved. Ie; true love's kiss.

I shut the book with more force than I'd intended.

I had a lot to think about, and my confidence was waning.

But worse than that, I felt the familiar ache of guilt in my chest. I hadn't been thinking clearly; I'd just so desperately needed to beat Jasen at something. I'd so desperately needed to regain my confidence for the next time we faced off in a competition.

I couldn't fail to him again — that was one thing my father had been right about.

But all I'd done was fail. I'd not only botched this spell, but the fact that I'd casted it to begin with? It wasn't as if Layla had consented to it, either. And I almost think it would have been worse if it had worked.

Maybe now I was only facing the consequences of my stupidly cruel actions. I deserved this fate, and now I had to suffer with it.

But Jasen didn't deserve it, even as much as I hated him. Even he didn't deserve to have to be around me all of the time.

For a moment, I even considered just turning myself in. Letting them take me off to jail.

But the thought of seeing that look on my father's face made my blood run cold.

With surprise, I fell backwards as the door crept open, and quickly caught myself with my hands.

"What are you doing?" Jasen asked, and I could hear it — almost a laugh, threatening to break free from his mouth.

Slowly, I got to my feet, holding the book to my chest as if it was the last thing I owned. I stared at him for a moment, realising only then that I'd never seen him with his hair wet. Without the coils holding it upright, it was surprisingly long — nearly as long as mine.

"Trying to figure out how to break this curse," I sighed as I said it, walking over to the desk and sitting down in that chair. It was a little tall for me, but I didn't exactly feel comfortable here, so I didn't adjust it.

He made his way to the bed, plopping down into it on his stomach with a relaxed sigh. I noticed he wore looser clothes now; plain black t-shirt, grey sweats. He was clearly ready to fall asleep, and for a second, I thought that he would, right then and there.

But he shuffled a little, propping his head up on a hand to face me.

"Find out anything yet?" He asked, nodding to the book.

"Nothing useful yet," I said. "Though, I was thinking about something."

"About the spell?"

"Yeah," but I thought twice about it. "But I'll figure out a way to reverse it."

His eyes narrowed slightly as he scanned me, as if trying to put together something in his head. Then he melted back into the sheets with a sigh.

"How long do you think it'll take?" He asked, his voice muffled by the pillow.

"Uh, I'm not sure. It could be a few days until I have it all worked out." But for the sake of leaving no stones unturned, I added, "I could try a reversal spell."

He glared up at me from where he laid, "You know a reversal spell and didn't think to tell me until now?" Before I could speak, he almost laughed, "You don't have to cast a spell to spend time with me. You could have just asked me out."

"No!" I hissed, "It's not like that. Obviously. I don't think this reversal spell will work. It really only works on physical spells, not mind-altering ones. And a proximity spell is considered a mind-altering spell, obviously. Not as severe as a love spell, but it can still affect the emotions, or vise verse, so it's really still a mind-altering spell. And it doesn't create matter or change elements, so thus, it affects the mind."

"How do you even remember all of that?" He asked. "I think if I were a Witch and had to remember all that stuff about magic, my head would explode."

"What I wouldn't give to see that," I scoffed. "And I'm at this university for a reason." It hadn't really occurred to me that Werewolves would have a different curriculum than Witches. I knew that some of the classes overlapped, like basic history classes and advanced math classes, but only then did I realise the prominent absence of Werewolves in any magic or casting classes. It made sense; Werewolves couldn't use magic, so why bother learning about it?

Still, it made me bristle. While Witches like myself spent all of their time studying for exams and learning intricate magic, Werewolves could somehow show up and still beat us in competition with nothing but stupid, brute strength.

"So all day," he asked, "You learn about magic and spells and stuff?"

"What do you learn about?" I countered.

"Shifting," he said. "Physical tasks, mostly. We learn technique, how to use those skills in every day life, and how to use them to lead others—" with emphasis, "—to success!"

"...To success?" I repeated, dumbfounded.

"Most wolves live in pack houses, so leading is an important role," he said.

"Pack houses," I repeated. "Like community centres?"

"Well, they're cooler than that, but yeah."

"So you grew up in a whole pack? Not just with your..." I fought back saying father, "Your parents?"

"Yeah," he said. "I mean, there are some Werewolves that live as families, but we thrive when we're around each other. My pack house wasn't so different from this campus. It wasn't as theatrical, but the idea was the same: a few houses and buildings all on one territory."

I shook my head, "I'll never understand that."

"It's not any different than inviting your friends over for dinner with your family," he said. "Like, imagine your parents, your siblings, your neighbours and your friends all living on a campus like this."

I looked away from him only to stare at the door, "Doesn't sound like my thing."

Slowly, he sat up in the bed, "Ah, only child?"

I nodded, but didn't look at him.

"That sucks. Doesn't it ever get lonely? Just you and your parents?"

"No," I said, though the word came out venomous; sharp, like a physical knife had cut open the air between us. I hadn't intended for it to come out that way, but now that it had, the word lingered like an echo in my mind.

I heard the rustle of the sheets as Jasen laid back down.

"Well, for me, it would be lonely."

"Well," and the words were just as taut, like a wire could snap back from them at any moment. "If you like your pack house so much, why are you here in a dorm?"

"Just because I like being in the pack house doesn't mean I want to be there forever," he said. "I want to make my own way in the world. Maybe start my own pack someday. And being accepted here was an opportunity I couldn't turn down."

I finally turned to face him, "Why were you accepted? A sports scholarship?" He was propped up on his arms in the bed then, his legs hanging loosely over the edge. His hair a coiled mess, still slick with water.

He let out a short, dry laugh, "No, but I can see why you'd think that. I passed the entrance exams, so I got accepted."

I blinked at him. How was that even possible? For someone like Jasen to pass the entrance exams? Even I almost didn't pass them, and I had the highest score of my entire school.

"I didn't pass them the first time," he admitted. "But they let me retake them the second semester."

"Did you cheat on them?" I asked. I could sense it — flash of anger, a sharpness underlying his typically exuberant demeanour. The words had just spilled out from me; I wasn't even sure why. My disbelief had betrayed me, and now, I'd pay the price.

But then he softened with a coy laugh, "No, believe it or not. I studied all semester in the hopes of being able to retake them."

I felt my body relax a little; I hadn't even noticed how tense I had gotten. I let out a quiet, shaky exhale. "Well, good," was all I managed to say.

He stared at me, studying my expression. I glanced away, unable to meet his eye.

"If you want, I can put some blankets on the floor for you to sleep on," he said.

I stood from the chair, "Where are they? I can do it." Anything to put space between us.

He gestured vaguely to the dresser, and I almost groaned. The thought of having to dig through his mess to find a few blankets to sleep on was not how I'd envisioned my evening going.

Still, I made my way to the dresser. It was surprisingly regal, at second glance; gently carved wood with a dark stain varnish. I could still feel his eyes on my back, like fire in my skin. I was painfully aware of just how he looked at me, feeling my neck grow hot. As if one little slip, and he'd burst out laughing and spew out his harsh judgement of my misdemeanour.

I found the blankets — folded, although not neatly — in a top left drawer. I pulled out a larger comforter and then a smaller throw, bringing them back over beside the bed and laying them out neatly on the floor.

"Tomorrow," he said, abruptly, "If you still haven't found a way to break the spell, then we could sleep at your place for the night."

I snorted, "As long as you don't make it a mess like yours is."

"Oh, I'll make sure it's trashed by the time I leave." That same smug look. I hated it.

I gently laid down on the floor, and heard as Jasen leaned across the bed to turn out the light; it was dark outside, the moon a distant glow in a navy, overcast haze from the window. The room was different in the dark; more peaceful this way.

It was uncomfortable, and I hated the fact that I was sleeping in Jasen's room, but tomorrow, I'd finish reading my new book and figure out a way to break this spell. There had to be a way.