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“Sorry, that was dumb to share. I’m just in a bad mood. And, like…everyone always flirts with her. Give it a break.”
“I bet lots of people flirt with you, too,” I say softly.
“Yeah, right,” she snorts. “Maybe once I start growing boobs like Camila.”
I look down at my own flat chest, then hers.
“I’m in trouble too, then,” I joke, so she doesn’t feel alone in her misery.
“Yeah, but you’re gorgeous. There’s a difference.”
My eyes widen, but she’s gone, crossing now that the light permits.
She thinks I’m gorgeous.
And for once, the word doesn’t come out of Mateo Bianco’s mouth.
For the first time…it feels good to hear it.
“You coming?” she shouts without looking back.
I accelerate to reach her again.
Once we’re standing in front of the school, she turns to me. “You can pile them on top of mine now. I’ll be fine to get to the classroom.”
I do so gently, ensuring she can take the weight before letting go.
“Thanks for the help. And I guess I’ll see you around. My name’s Rachel, by the way.”
My heart accelerates to the rhythm of her name’s syllables, and it takes me a minute to realize she’s already stepped away.
“I’m Rose,” I murmur since she’s already too far to hear.
“Rose?”
I startle in my seat, my head snapping from my book up to the person standing next to me. Brown hair, pale skin. His bright blue eyes hide behind Ralph Lauren camel glasses. They are full of recognition for me. Recognition I can’t reciprocate.
I peer around him and at the rest of the library. I came to study here because I’m pretty sure Lik never steps foot in here. After the conversation with Viktor yesterday, I have no idea what I’m doing at college anyway. It’s not like I’m going to graduate. Maybe I’m just not accepting what’s going on yet. I’m keeping on with my everyday life because I haven’t processed that I’m not staying here or that I’m going back to the Bratva compound.
The man standing next to my table chuckles and shakes his head. “You don’t recognize me, do you?” He puts both his hands in the pocket of his jeans and balances on the back of his heels before his feet come flat on the floor again. “I’m Simon…”
Who?
My face tells him everything he needs to know.
“We have two classes together. American History and Writing 101.”
“Right,” I nod. “Sorry, so many people in those classes.”
He runs a hand through his hair and nods, uncomfortable. You picked the wrong time to come and try to be my friend, man. He glances at my books on the table and back at me.
“Studying for our midterms?”
I inhale deeply and huff a long breath. “Hardly. That shit is hard, and it’s been a long day trying to make sense of some of this.”
“It’s ten a.m.”
I almost want to laugh. He’s got that impassive way of talking that makes everything he says a statement without any judgment.
