Page 245 of Sorrow & Strangers

Alice exhales. “Probably a good idea.” She yawns and stands up. “You’ll be safe?” she asks, and when I nod, she leaves, but her seat is not vacant for long.

“Hi,” I say, glancing at Max as he sits next to me. I feel so awkward, and the guilt seems to amp up the second I look at him.

“So I spoke to Rafe,” he says by way of greeting.

“You did?” I ask, perking up. “How’d it go?”

“About as well as you’d imagine.” I grimace, but then he adds, “But he almost seemed to think twice about it.”

“Oh?”

“You might be getting through to him.” He waits until my gaze meets his. “You can be very persuasive.”

My lips twitch. “Thanks for talking to him, Max.”

Max nods and looks down at his burger. “Can I ask you something?” he asks, his voice lowered to give us a sliver of privacy in the bustling cafeteria. I glance at him and nod, though my stomach twists. “Since All Souls, you seem different,” he says. “Which is fine.”

“Different how?”

“It’s like you’re seeing someone,” Max says with a chuckle.

“Oh.” My cheeks heat, and I look away.

“Are you? Seeing someone?”

I hesitate for a long moment before I answer. “No. I’m celibate.”

“You sure? You seem preoccupied.”

You can fucking say that again.

“Am I sure I’m not seeing someone?” I quirk a brow. “Pretty sure.”

Max rolls his eyes. “Could still be someone occupying your thoughts.”

“There’s not,” I lie, looking away. The lie tastes like acid on my tongue, but for whatever reason, I’m not willing to confess about the stranger. “I’m going to the library.”

“I can come with you,” Max offers.

“No, it’s okay. Enjoy your lunch,” I say, smiling, but as I walk away, I pull my phone free. My hands shake a little, my emotions a mess of anxiety and apprehension.

Summer

Can we meet later?

Even typing out the message makes my stomach sick, but I can’t do this. I can’t keep this from him.

Unknown

When?

I can still sense his anger, but I know it’s about earlier and not the kiss. If it were about the kiss, I’d probably be locked up in his basement.

Fuck, why am I telling him again? Because I have to. Because I want to. Because I am not the person I used to be.

Summer

This evening?