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I trudged up the steps of the lecture hall, heading to my usual seat halfway up.
“Hey,” someone in the row ahead of me called out.
I kept going, assuming they were speaking to someone else since I didn’t really know anyone in this class.
“Hey.”
Stopping on the step before my row, I scanned to the right, finding four frat bros grinning my way. My stomach twisted in knots.
“Hi,” I whispered in response.
The guy closest to me chuckled, drawing my attention. Deacon Forrester. I’d met him twice while with Helen, and both times, he’d been obnoxious and had called me herfat friend. We were a month into this semester, and he’d said hi to me once before. It had been disconcerting then, and it was still disconcerting now.
“Hey, Zadie. Are you having a nice day?” He leveled me with a somewhat friendly look, but his bros were snickering beside him, so I didn’t return it. Instead, I rushed past, mumbling something vague that probably didn’t make any sense. I didn’t believe he was sincerely asking me anyway, not with his buddies laughing at his side.
I sat in the very back, well away from laughing boys. I’d known guys like that in high school, and I’d learned to avoid them like the plague. College hadn’t magically transformed them into men with souls. They were still little boys who got their kicks through humiliation.
If I were Helen or Elena, I’d walk back down there and say, “No thanks. I already have a homicidal drug dealer on my hands, I don’t really have room on my plate for an arrogant frat boy.”
But since I was just me—pathologically shy—I quietly took out my laptop and crossed my fingers Deacon and his friends would forget I existed.
Amir lived off campus, in a neighborhood of houses that were pretty much all rented by college students. His was a tidy bungalow with a front porch that ran the width of the house. There were two nice wooden rocking chairs and two less-nice folding chairs occupying the space. The welcome mat in front of the door said, “Cum Inside.” I had a hard time believing Amir had picked that out.
I barely knocked before the door swung open. The smiling face greeting me wasn’t Amir’s, but one of the guys who’d handled me with surprising gentleness on Saturday night.
“Hi.” I held up my hand in a little wave.
“Hey.” He leaned against the jamb, giving me a long once-over. “What’s up, buttercup?”
My fingers twisted in the hem of my long cardigan. “I’m reporting for duty. Is my owner home?”
His smile grew wide. A bark of a laugh burst out of him. “Oh, my boy’s in trouble with you, isn’t he? He thought he was getting a meek little thing, but you’ve got some sass behind that sweet. I’m into it.” He reached out, grabbing me by my nape, and yanked me inside the house.
“I think I’m the one in trouble,” I uttered.
He squeezed my neck. “Nah. I was worried about you, you know? You’ve got this fragile chick kind of vibe going. But I’m thinking maybe you’ve got a little fire in you.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think I do.”
“We’ll see.” He winked, then pushed me deeper into the house, still holding the back of my neck. “I’m Julien, by the way.”
“Zadie.”
His laugh was softer this time. “I know. I’ve heard it around here enough, I won’t forget it.”
I would have asked what exactly he’d heard, but Amir emerged from upstairs, scowling with such malice, I braced for him to reach for his gun and shoot Julien and me to the ground.
“Take your fucking hand off my property.” Each word was low and menacing. If there was a friendship between Amir and Julien, it had disappeared in that moment, leaving behind icy disdain.
Julien’s grip on my neck instantly disappeared. He held both hands up to show they were empty and he was innocent.
“My mistake,” he soothed. “It won’t happen again.” But under his placating tone, I heard an edge of amusement. I didn’t think he was afraid of Amir, not really.
“Fuck off, Julien,” Amir spat.
Julien chuckled, proving my theory, and slid away from me. “All right, all right. I’m fucking off. Just, you know, try not to damage yourpropertyirreparably. That would be a damn shame.”
Amir’s eyes narrowed to obsidian slits. “It would be a damn shame to find yourself without a roof over your head, asshole.”
