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“Give it to me. Maybe I can think of something,” Bree says, stretching her arm to grab the phone.
I take it out of her reach. I’m afraid that if the phone ends up in her power, I may lose any leverage.
“No.”
“Give it to me.”
“I can type it in if you tell me,” I babble back.
Bree rises on the tip of her toes in an attempt to reach the phone, and I struggle to keep it away from her claws. She pushes harder, clinging to my torso without realizing that she’s invading my personal space.
I trip by the sudden force of her body against mine and lose the grip of the phone. It slips out of my fist, darting away from us in slow motion. The phone falls on the screen side, crashing on the floor at the other side of the hallway and then sliding over a few meters.
My heart skips a beat and leaves my whole chest, dropping at my feet. It’s going straight to hell to salute the devil in the place where I’m going to end up in.
Bree and I interchange panicked glances. We’re truly fucked now.
Not only did I steal my housemate’s phone, but I also broke it.
Chapter Nine
Ibreathe deeply three times. Inhaling through my nose and letting the air out from my mouth in a long way, allowing the oxygen to fill my lungs and calm me. I can hear murmurs surrounding me, but none of them are focused on me; people are in their bubbles, their realities, and worlds that differ from mine as they order at the cashier. I look at the steaming cup that's sitting on the table in front of me, inviting me to drink it. My nerves and anxiety won't let me.
I'm a wreck.
On the other side of the table that divides us, Stanley’s eyes are roaming over the crowd in the diner. He's not drinking what he bought for himself either. Instead, his fingers are intertwined on top of the table. The table shakes, and I assume that he’s moving his legs underneath.
He has the broken phone inside his pocket as we wait for Ryder Weiss—our apparent savior—to arrive. The diner is a couple of blocks away from campus, but it’s more private than the frequently visited cafeterias. The chances of someone seeing us here are slimmer.
“So, what are you studying?”
His abrupt question catches me off guard, and I frown.
Fixing my eyes on him, I meet Stanley’s green gaze staring back at me. A shade of anxiety shines in his orbs, letting me know that he’s as unease as I am. But I don’t understand where his question came from.
“What?” I ask, arching a brow.
Stanley shrugs.
“I’m just making small talk,” he answers in an unbothered tone. He wasn’t affected by my rudeness, a detail that only confuses me.
“Why?”
I’m trying to understand where his initiative to have a real conversation with me came from. I’m not incredibly open to the idea of speaking with him, but that doesn’t mean that it intrigues me. After arguing our way to this mess, I’m not sure how he wants to have anything to do with me.
“Why not?” Stanley retorts with a crease in his eyebrow. “We’re going to be here for a while, so let’s kill time while we wait.”
For the first time, he’s not wrong, and I can’t argue with his logic. It’s probably the best thing to do. If we stay silent, we’ll be dancing around the issue, tormenting ourselves with the possibility that John will murder us when he finds out. A distraction will help us pass the time. A decent conversation won’t make us best friends, so I nod in agreement.
“Fine.” I shift my eyes to the large window of the diner, focusing on the cars that regularly pass in front of it. “My major is Photography.”
I wait for his reaction, not knowing what to expect from him.
Not everyone understands why someone wishes to major in Photography when there are thousands of short-term courses and workshops in every corner. Pretty much anyone can give themselves the title of “photographer” on social media after posting three saturated images with a filter, but I don’t care about those people. Taking photos, immortalizing a moment, and studying what I’m passionate about is what keeps me tolerating irrelevant classes.
“And are you good at it?”
His interest is a new reaction for me. I’m used to the usual “oh” and deadly silence that I’m not adequately prepared to answer that kind of question.
