Page 32 of Ghosted

Which is not jealousy.

Obviously.

Jealousy would be fucking insane. Possessive would be worse. I barely know her. She’s a girl with a camera, a smart mouth, and a talent for getting under my skin like she signed a lease there.

That’s it, that’s all.

Still, my jaw hasn’t unclenched since he leaned over her shoulder like he was allowed to breathe her air.

Fucking annoying.

She cuts through the old courtyard instead of taking the busier path beside the student center. Her boots splash through shallow puddles, but she steps around the deeper ones without slowing. She has one earbud in, but she isn’t checked out. Not even close.

Alice pays attention.

Windows. Doors. Reflections in the glass. The path ahead.

Careful.

Not scared.

There’s a difference, and yeah, unfortunately, I know it well.

She passes the chapel garden and slows near the covered walkway between two older buildings. The roof keeps most of the rain off, but water still runs in thin streams down the stone edges. The lamps along the wall are already on even though it’s barely afternoon, making the whole spot look darker than it needs to be.

Which is another fucking thought I do not need to be having.

She steps beneath the walkway.

Then turns around.

I stop about ten feet away, rain sliding off my hood and down my jaw.

For a second, neither of us says anything.

She just looks at me, and I look back, still thinking about that guy’s shoulder almost brushing hers. His fucking purple hair. His stupid goddamn grin, and how easy it would’ve been to step between them and make sure he understood exactly how little space he was allowed to take up near her.

Which would’ve been crazy.

And I’m not crazy.

I’m annoyed.

There’s a difference.

Alice pulls one earbud free, her eyes dragging over me like I’ve already pissed her off and she’s deciding whether I’m worth the energy.

“You lost, Cutter?”

My mouth curves before I can stop it. “No.”

“Interesting. Because you’re standing outside the visual arts building in the rain, and unless you suddenly developed taste, I’m guessing this isn’t about the architecture.”

“Who was he?”

That wipes some of the amusement off her face.

Good.