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Body of student found on Wickett University grounds shows signs of violence.
My heart sinks at the statement, and I scroll down to see if the article will even saywhereshe was found, or who she was. Unfortunately, it does neither, and by the time I’ve read all I can about her, Oliver is back and panting with his backpack slung over one shoulder.
“What are you looking at?” he asks, with interest rather than suspicion. I show him the article and he frowns, his own eyes flicking over the words. “Violence? Holyshit,” he murmurs. “What does that even mean?”
“Do you think it could be something worse? Like… murder?” I ask, my own voice just as quiet. Every class I’ve been in since the episode has buzzed with the conversation of the dead girl, though so far, I haven’t heard guesses on who it really is. Rumors abound, of course, but nothing to be taken seriously.
“I don’t know,” he admits, shrugging slightly. “It’s fucked up. I know this stuff happens but…” He shakes his head. “Surely, if they thought she was murdered, we’d be on curfew or something.”
“Well, not if the killer was really good at making it look like a suicide,” I mutter, getting to my feet. When I look up, I see Oliver looking at me with a strange, almost stricken look on his face. “What?” I ask, feeling the cold start of nerves working their way up my fingers. “I just meant—”
“It’s a scary thought,” he says finally. “That’s all. I mean, I hadn’t considered that, and it’s horrifying.” My shoulders relax when I realize he isn’t horrified byme, which is good enough.
“Where do you want to go?” I ask, following him to the parking lot.
“Did you drive?” he asks instead, and I shake my head.
“I don’t really drive,” I admit. “I can; and I do when I’m at home. But since Jun has a car and we go almost everywhere together, it seems a little redundant. And she likes it more than me.”
The look on his face isn’t quite as friendly as it could be when he says, “That’s gotta be inconvenient to rely on her for your transportation.”
“Ubers and buses exist. So does walking. This is St. Augustine, not some small town in Kentucky.”
He grins wryly, shaking his head again. “Coffee or dinner? It’s a little late for lunch.” Alittle,he says, when the sun is about to sink below the horizon.
Before I can answer, Oliver fishes keys out of his pocket and hits the unlock button, causing the lights of the car beside me to light up and making me jump. “This is your car?” I ask, awestruck. At best, I’d driven a twenty-fifteen sedan.
But this has to be this year’s model of a black Mustang with white striped details.
“Yeah,” he chuckles, opening the driver’s side door. “If you’re really good, I’ll let you drive it sometime.”
I get in beside him, already shaking my head. “And risk wrecking it? No way, Oliver. You’downme if something like that happened.” Though it does make sense now how he’s okay dropping so much money in my stream… which is still something we need to discussnow. “Dinner,” I say after a moment. "If you’re okay with—”
“I’m okay with anything,” he interrupts. “Anything you want to do, just tell me. Except skydiving. I don’t like the idea of it, and I don’t love heights.”
“Okay, well, I doubt we’re going to dinner while skydiving,” I point out, buckling my seatbelt with my backpack on my lap. He turns the key in the ignition, the car purring to life. I grin and look at him, saying teasingly, “I’m moving in with you soyoucan be my primary mode of transportation. This car is nice.”
“Don’t say that, wonder girl,” Oliver chuckles, shoving the car into gear and pulling out of his parking spot as the moon roof slides open. “You wouldn’t like my roommate. He’s a snob, and it would be what you’d expect.”
“Why not?”
He flashes me another grin. “Because I’ve heard I’m a shitty roommate.” I doubt he ever could be, though I guess it’s possible. Messy, maybe? Or maybe he throws loud parties on the weekend.
“You live in Hollow Oaks, right?” I ask, recalling that he’d told me that a while ago.
“I do.”
“Is it as nice as the real estate pictures make it look like?”
He thinks about that for a moment, then replies with, “Yeah, actually. I didn’t think it would be when I moved in, but I have to admit, it’s really fucking nice. Lots of space so I don’t have to hear my neighbors, no matter how loud they get, and lots of room for hobbies in my house.”
“Do you own it?”
“Nah, my roommate does. Where do you want to go for dinner, Blair?”
He turns to look at me, his foot on the brake and a lazy smile splayed across his lips as I think back to the matter at hand.
“Have you been to the Mexican grill near where I live?” I ask slowly, wondering what he’d think of cheap Mexican food. “Orthere’s a diner that serves the best pancakes on this earth near my apartment, too.”
