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“No, stay just like that,” said a familiar voice in a gentle whisper. There was another camera click. “I’m going to draw this scene and call itOverworked Student in Repose.”
O’Neal turned her head, finding Lennox smiling down at her. Well, a version of Lennox she’d never seen. His blond hair was slicked back, and his eyes were rimmed with black liner, making his green eyes as bright as ivy leaves. Instead of his usual jeans and T-shirt, he was in a well-tailored black suit complete with a black shirt and tie to match. For a moment, she couldn’t speak.
“Hey, Sweets,” he said. “Your roommate said I could find you here.”
“Uh, hi,” she managed.
He grabbed a chair near her, spun it around, and straddled it. “So what are you up to?”
She wet her lips, still trying to get her bearings. “Working on an assignment. What about you? You look like you’re going to the Grammys or something.”
He smiled and grabbed the lapels of his jacket. “You like? It’s on loan. A friend in one of my classes asked me to pose for a photo shoot. She’s doing a series on power.”
Her brows lifted. “Like power suits?”
“Well, that was one piece of it. That the clothes can make a man—or woman. But she’s also got photos focused on powerful body language, demonstrations of strength, intense emotions, that kind of thing. She took a few of just my clenched fist. Then another couple with my shirt off and my nails scraping across one of my tattoos. Should be interesting.”
She snorted softly.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’m just not surprised that she had shots requiring you to take off your shirt.”
He braced his arms along the chair’s back. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on, look at you. Who wouldn’t want you to strip so they can take photos?” The words were out before she could process how they’d come across.
Lennox broke into a grin. “Hold up. Did you justflirtwith me, Ms. Lory? I’m so proud of you!”
She groaned and pressed her hand over her eyes. “Please shut up.”
“Oh no, I’m not good at shutting up, sorry. Libraries literally make me itch with all the quietness.” He tugged her hand away from her face and kissed her knuckles before letting her go. “Thank you for the compliment, Sweets. Now, tell me what you’re up to.”
The easy way he touched her made her breath quicken and temporarily distracted her, so she wasn’t able to hide her screen quickly enough. Lennox’s attention was already on it. He read the headline aloud, “Multiple DNA Specimens Found on Victim in Lory Case.”
“Just researching for my—”
“Lory.” He turned to her, eyes concerned.
She cleared her throat, her neck heating. “It’s my mom’s case. I…I chose it as a topic for my investigative assignment in class.”
His expression tightened into concern. “Oh, Sweets, that sounds like a really bad idea. Why would you want—”
“Because I need to, okay?” she said with more ferocity than she’d planned. She glanced around, hoping she hadn’t disturbed anyone, and lowered her voice. “I know it sounds morbid to do this as an assignment, but I need this. I’ve only been told pieces of her story. And the parts I’ve been told always make my mom sound like…like she deserved it somehow. I mean, they called her the Party Girl. No one should get that kind of label when they’re the victim of a crime.”
Her hands clenched and unclenched, her voice wavering a little, a mix of emotions trying to fight for dominance. “I don’t expect to, like, solve the case or whatever. I don’t have that skill set. But I just want to…learn more about what happened, learn more about her. It’s like this big chunk of my history that’s completely formed from secondary sources, from other people’s opinions and interpretations. I want to know her for myself. I want to know who she was when she was here.”
Lennox stared at her for a quiet moment and then nodded. “Okay. I get that. But I just…be careful with yourself. You don’t know what you’ll find or what doors it will open up inside you. Things could get intense.”
Her mouth was dry, but she pushed the words out. “I will.”
He leveled her with a serious look. “And I don’t know if you plan to interview anyone from back then, but don’t you dare go poking around people who could be involved in a murder without bringing someone with you.”
“I—”
“I’m serious, O’Neal,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “You call me. Or Aud. Or someone else you trust and take them with you. There’s a difference between being independent and being reckless. Promise me.”
“Len—”
