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“Yeah, it’s just… some girl was found dead at the university,” I murmur, my hand tightening on my phone. “This is insane.”
“What?”He’s just as shocked as I am. “Do you know her?”
“No. Well, I don’t know; I don’t even know who it is. They just said they think it was suicide or something. That’s so fucking sad.” The report only shows a stretcher being rolled up to an ambulance, a sheet covering all of the body except the top of her head. Her hair is shiny black, the same as Juniper’s, and I shake my head again. “That’s so sad.”
“That’s… awful,” Oliver echoes. “Wow, I really can’t believe it.”
“Neither can I,” I murmur, shaking my head again and feeling more on edge than I had been before. “I wonder who she was.”
“So do I,” Oliver says, a sigh on his lips. “I still can’t believe it. On Wicket property? That’s awful.”
“I’m going to go,” I say after a few more seconds of watching the news for any other information. “Not because I’m upset, or anything like that. I need to eat, I’m literally starving.”
“I understand,” Oliver promises with a soft, sweet chuckle. “Go eat dinner. I’ll see you later this week, wonder girl.”
I hang up with a sigh, staring at my phone, and realize I still need to address the fact that, since he knows who I am outside of my stream, he really doesn’t need to send me exorbitant amounts of money anymore.
Next time, I promise myself, falling onto my side as I close my laptop lid.I’ll tell him next time.
Chapter 14
No matter how much I stare at my art history book and try to read the chapter we’ve been assigned, I can’t stop thinking of the girl whose hair reminded me of Juniper. It’s a stupid comparison, since a lot of girls have glossy black hair like hers. But for some reason, the thought just won’t leave my head, even though it’s been two days and Juniper is most definitely fine.
I sigh and open my laptop, navigating to the supplemental reading about late Egyptian art detailing the women in history. My favorite of Egypt’s women, of course, has always been Hatshepsut. As Egypt’s only female pharaoh, she should be everyone’s favorite, in my unasked-for opinion. If not because her reign heralded in a time of prosperity for Egypt, then for the fact that history has tried so hard to erase her without success.
Actually, if I could ever bring someone from history back for a day, or even just for a coffee date, it would be her.
I sit back, sipping my chai, and stare at the laptop as I scroll through the articles we were given to look through, should we have the time and interest. I, of course, have both. Even though I’d chosen a Roman studies minor, it was mostly because Wickett doesn’t offer anEgyptianminor. Otherwise, I would’vebeen enrolled in a heartbeat. And all that means is that anytime I get to study or look at things pertaining to Egyptian history and art, I’m all over it with frenzied aggression.
Unfortunately, it also means that even though I’d love to find something that distracts me, these articles are ones I’ve already read. Professor Carmine isn’t in the habit of re-assigning work from one class to another, but last year when I’d expressed interest in this, she’d given me work from the advanced class to sate me for the time being.
This, apparently, was that work. Even the reading in the textbook looks familiar, except the last time I’d seen it had been in a stapled together packet of pages with faded text in some spot thanks to a shitty, half-working printer.
I go through it anyway, crossing and uncrossing my legs at the table in the library café. This isn’t my favorite place to study, but with no study rooms open and the library louder than usual, being closer to coffee was the best option I could think of.
Sighing, I look up from my work just in time to see Oliver breeze through the doorway of the library. He doesn’t look my way, and for all intents and purposes he looks… bored. Especially when he drops a reference book on the return counter, gives a distracted smile, and says something to the desk worker, who takes it from him with a genuine smile on her pretty face.
I’m not jealous, because that would be stupid. There’s nothing to be jealous about, since her smiles don’t garner more attention from him and we’re not, exactly, dating.
My hand hesitates over my phone as I watch him, and I wonder if he wants to be left alone today. Would he welcome a text message from me, telling him I can see him? Or would he find it more bothersome than anything and only come over here because he feels like heshould?
It occurs to me that there’s only one way to find out. I tap my phone to unlock it, then go to the conversation I’m sharing with him to type, and instantly send the words,I see you.
Only after, do I realize I sound like a stalker, and I grit my teeth together in regret. That was kind of dumb, but oh well. Might as well not say anything else, since I’m good at making things worse.
Oliver stops talking to the girl and reaches into his pocket to dig out his phone. He glances at it, and even from here I see the bemusement on his face as he reads the message. But he doesn’t reply. Smartly, he looks around him until finally turning to look into the attached café through the open glass doors that lead from one building directly to the other.
If I’d thought for a moment he wouldn’t be happy, I had been wrong. Delight catches and holds, and he walks toward me without even bothering to tell the girl goodbye. Not that she seems to mind, since she falls into conversation with a professor who’s holding a stack of papers.
“Blair,” he greets, coming to stand beside me so he can lean down and kiss the top of my head. Warmth blooms in my chest, and I look up at him with a smile of my own. “You’re studying,” he says, eyeing what I’m working on thoughtfully. “Are you leaving soon?”
“I don’t know. But I guess I could,” I admit, shrugging. “All of this is material I read last year, so I don’t really need to go through it thoroughly once more.”
His gaze flicks to mine in surprise, and he says, “I need a book for one of my criminal justice classes, then I’m free. Do you want to wait for me? We can leave afterward.then go get dinner, if you want?”
“I’d love that,” I admit, closing up my book. “I have no life, and nowhere to be tonight.”
“Give me just a minute, okay?” He jogs away before I can reply, and I’m left with my coffee and laptop in the café, waiting for him. Absently, I throw everything in my backpack and drag my phone closer. In the search bar I typeSt. Augustine, FLand tap the news tab, wondering if I’ll see anything coming up about the girl who’d killed herself a few days ago.
