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Do I thank him? Mention it at all? Pretend it never happened?
The elevator doors screeched open, and I stepped into a cramped group of about five other kids.
Pretend.
I’d pretend.
The elevator jolted. Five seconds later, we all poured out into the busy lobby. Noise packed the space. Some extracurricular club was selling donuts by the doors, the students working the front desk yelled at kids to show their IDs, and a large tour group was making its way toward the stairwell. Despite the craziness, as soon as I started walking toward the doors, I could hear nothing but my beating heart.
I pushed past the glass door into the humidity of the afternoon. I could practically hear the blood pounding in my ears as I strode up to Elliot’s car, casting side-glances at people as I passed them, as if I expected them to know, and care, just whose car I was about to get into in the broad light of day. That may have happened if we were still in high school, but right then, no one gave a damn. Just as well.
The front of the car was facing away from me, but I could still feel Elliot’s eyes on me in the rearview as I approached the passenger side. He unlocked the door, and I slid into the seat.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my eyes forward until he started the car and we rolled out onto the street.
After a moment, I looked at him. He hadn’t said a word. His arm still hung out the window, the other draped nonchalantly over the steering wheel. He wore black Aviators that concealed the eyes I loved so much, a white tank top and ripped jeans. Fifty bucks said that if I hadn’t texted him, he wouldn’t have gotten out of bed until much later. He was that kind—live it up late, sleep when you’re dead, or if you can’t wait, during daylight.
“So,” he said, breaking the silence between us. That one word sent shivers down my spine. “You need me.”
Well, that was one way to put it.
“I need your expertise,” I said, wondering how long I could dance around the subject before I needed to explain what was going through my head. Now that I thought about it, the stupider my idea sounded. Get a bully’s help to confront a new bully. It’d sounded logical at first. “Since you’re, you know, good at dealing with people like this.”
“Like who?”
I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed, or genuinely curious. His voice was deadpan.
“My roommate.”
Elliot turned to look at me for the first time since I’d gotten into the car, since he’d dropped me home in the middle of the night. It was just a glance, no feeling, as if making sure he’d picked up the right girl.
“Her name’s Vivian,” I continued, and waited a moment to see if he had any reaction. None. “She brought me to that party last night.”
Elliot let out a snort. “I was wondering how you managed to show up,” he said.
The comment stung, but I understood what he meant. If it weren’t for Pierre, I was one step away from flaunting the status of a loner. If Eric hadn’t invited me, I would’ve stayed in.
“Anyway,” I said, brushing the remark aside, “she’s kind of a bitch. No, I take it back.” My face was scorching hot. I struggled to find the words to explain. Finally, I let go. “She’s like you.”
“Hm.”
Nothing else.
The car shook as we pulled into the gravel drive that led past Powell’s front gates and into the campus. I waited for Elliot to elaborate. Instead, he cursed as a mob of students started racing across the road, and honked a couple times before revving the engine.
Once we drove past them, I looked back at him.
“Do you know what I mean?” I asked, sounding more timid than I wanted to.
“No, not really,” he responded. Cold. “You’re beingkindacryptic.”
I shook my head. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly.”
I bit down on my tongue as he swerved the car down into the parking garage and landed a spot a second later.
Elliot turned off the engine and it sputtered into silence. Then he turned to me, leaning forward as he pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead. My insides quaked as I took a chance, looking into his eyes only to instantly regret it.
