He opens the heavy door for me, and I step into the jarring, fluorescent stairwell. Moving away from him pulls against his magnetic forcefield. I shake my head and navigate the halls to my room and begin my bedtime routine, thinking and praying. I’m scared. Anxious. But also enamored. Fascinated. Infuriatingly, irrationally hopeful. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m sure I scared him off.
Part of me begs to tell someone about my invasive memories, to lay my secret fears bare, but I know better than that. I will not make that mistake again. Mom kept throwing the “counselor” word at me right at first—everything online said the same—but I made it clear it’s not for me. I can’t bear to admit aloud the bizarre and terrifying patterns of my brain to anyone else.
I thought all of this was going to end when I came here. I thought … well, I thought wrong.
Sophie and Mia return to the suite, happy chattering growing quieter. Ayumi’s asleep in our room behind me. I turn toward them, floss between my teeth, as they round the corner from the lounge.
“Well, well. How was the romantic moonlit walk?” Mia waggles her eyebrows.
I force a fragile smile around my floss. They saunter into their room, apparently not expecting a response.
I trash my floss and flop onto the mess of blankets on Sophie’s bed, trying to focus on my friends. “Well? Albert Hall two nights in a row. Any Flooders stand out to you, Sophs?”
Her bright eyes answer in the affirmative. “Lots of juicy ones on that floor.We’ll see.”
I turn to Mia.
“That mess is not for me. When are you gonna see the crown prince again?”
I shrug. As Dad would say, I need that like a cat needs a snorkel. Or like a pilot needs a blindfold. Or like Olaf needs a suntan.
CHAPTER NINE
“Bone-in wings are buy one,get one.”
As if Sophie needs a restaurant deal to plan an outing—we already know her better than that. I appreciate it though. Money is tight, and I mean a child’s piggy bank could hold my life’s savings in quarters. My parents taught me to stretch a dollar, so I can partake responsibly. I’ll order the minimum and a water. Five bucks plus tip. I love all things spicy, so this is worth it.
“I’m down.” I grab a jacket from the closet. What am I thinking? I hang it back.
“Yeah, it’s barely September,” Ayumi says, a San Antonio native. “You won’t be needing that for a few months still.”
Sheesh, Texas. “No wings?” I ask.
“I’m happy here. Thanks.”
She’s missing out on the full college experience, skipping almost every invitation we send her way. To each her own, I guess.
Sophie’s still in the doorway, bouncing more than usual. “Mia and the others are meeting us at the parking lot. Ready?”
I wonder which other girls are coming along, but Sophie leads the way across the field to the Albert Hall parking lot rather than to our own. There’s Mia, but she’s standing with a group of guys. Oh, and Levi. There hasn’t even been a full day for my weird freakout to blow over. And he keeps glancing at me as we approach. I pretend I don’t notice.
Does he pay for a stylist with his fancy trust fund or does he just ooze with fashion sense like he does confidence and charm? Pretend I don’t notice.
Chino pants and a T-shirt never looked so sophisticated. Like Harvey Specter on a day off. Pretend I don’t notice!
I have to get a grip. I’ve been dodging my own thoughts for the past twenty-four hours, but if I can’t trust myself to make good decisions, I’ll wade through the sludge again. Even if it pulls me under.
Haymitch snaps me back to reality with a slap on Levi’s arm. “Jeeves can fit eight in his rollin’ mansion.”
A Range Rover, huh? Not sure I’ve ever seen one of these up close. Odd that he doesn’t want to talk about money but drives that thing.
In this pack of rowdy boys, not one calls shotgun. Some steal a glance at me. The group splits between Calvin’s dented sedan and Levi’s SUV. Sophie and Mia crawl into the third row of the Range Rover with Austin.
Oh. I’ve been unknowingly paralyzed while I thought it over. Why can’t I think and walk at the same time? Just in time, I barge into the remaining bucket seat in the middle row before Haymitch can.
I grimace at him in apology. “I call the back seat, middle, with my feet on the hump!” Hopefully they know Brian Regan or now I seem even crazier. I’m not even in the right seat for that quote.
Haymitch chuckles. “Whatever suits ya.” Feeling his way tothe next door, he slides to the front passenger seat and sends Levi a look.
