Page 133 of Legacy Elite

"No."

"Jon—"

"No." He's holding the edge of the desk again. His shirt is open to the third button and his hands are visibly shaking. "No," a third time, mostly to himself.

"I started it. I walked across the room. You didn't do one single thing to—"

"I know exactly what happened," Jon says. "I was here."

"Give me something. A date. A condition. Anything."

"I won't do that."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know," Jon says.

"That's it?"

"That's the only answer I've got."

I try to support myself. My legs aren't brilliant.

"Okay."

"Jessica—"

"No, it's fine. You've been very clear. You're good at that. Everybody says so."

"That's not—"

"Do your shirt up."

He looks down.

He does the buttons, and gets the second one wrong, and I watch him do it and say absolutely nothing about it, because I'm not a saint.

I pick up my bag. I get the photographs off the floor and square them, badly, and put them back on the desk. My hands aren't steady either.

Good.

"Jessica."

I stop at the door and turn around.

Wrecked hair. Red mouth. A shirt buttoned wrong.

Then he straightens his cuffs, and it's Professor Matthias standing in a room full of paper.

"Good night," Jon says.

I look at his collar.

"Sure, Professor," I say, and go.

Chapter eighteen

Jessica