Page 212 of Ruthless Court

“I’m not here to cause trouble.”

He peers inside.

“Did you bring tribute?”

“Snacks.”

“That’s tribute in college.”

He checks the resident list, picks up the desk phone, and dials.

“Someone’s downstairs,” he says when the call connects. “I guess it’s a food order.”

He pauses.

Then smiles at me.

Footsteps sound above us.

A minute later, Hannah comes down the stairs.

She is wearing a faded Stranger Things T-shirt large enough to reach halfway down her thighs, baggy gray sweatpants, and fuzzy socks covered in tiny red mushrooms.

Her tortoiseshell glasses sit slightly crooked across her face.

Her thick hair falls loose around her shoulders in dark waves. A small gold star is stuck to her chin.

No makeup.

No bra.

No warning.

She reaches the bottom step expecting a delivery driver and stops when she sees me.

“Haverhill?” My name is practically screeched.

I lift the grocery bag.

“Food order.”

Her eyes narrow.

“You are not DoorDash.”

“Better benefits.”

Her face flames. Her arms fold across her chest. The motion makes her realize exactly what she isn’t wearing beneath the thin shirt.

She drops her arms and tugs the hem lower.

I drag my attention back to her face before she kills me with one of the lobby chairs.

“Is that a star?”

Her hand flies to her chin.

“It’s medicated.”