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My phone vibrates again.
Then again.
And again.
Shit. Pianna must be having one of her panic attacks. I swallow down my desire to scurry into the break room to help her. As much as I want to, I can’t help her at the moment. She’ll have to cope without me. Distracted by the vibrating in my pocket, I don’t see the young student in front of me until they lean forward to capture my attention.
“Excuse me?”
I pull my eyes away from my screen and look up at the young lady standing on the other side of my desk. Excitement hums in my veins and chases away my concerns for my friend.
My smile is large and genuine as I ask, “Can I help you?”
“Um, yeah, I need a book about—”
She babbles away nervously, unsure about what exactly she needs, but after stammering over her words, I figure it out for her and leave my desk to direct her over to an aisle of books about geology. When I return, I can’t stop the way my eyes search out and land on the student sitting a few tables down with his head buried into his book.
I don’t see his friend until it’s too late.
The new guy strolls over to the table and flops down beside him, his chair facing my direction from across the table. I know this young man. Not personally, I don’t make it a habit to befriend students. But you can’t miss his face plastered on the posters around school. Grant Gipson, Groveton College’s star running back on the football team, is a striking figure. Tall, lean, and classically handsome with high cheekbones, a pronounced jawline, and fair complexion, Grant is literally every college girl’s dream guy.
I suppose I can see the appeal, though there’s something about him that makes me uncomfortable. It could be the fact that he’s currently pinning me with a hard look, having caught me gawking over his friend from afar. My face heats but I school my features into one of indifference and sit back down behind my desk.
There isn’t any reason to be embarrassed about looking aroundmylibrary. Mr. Curls’ friend doesn’t need to get all protective when I’ve done nothing wrong. I should’ve expected Grant though. He usually shows up at the end of Mr. Curls’ study session and they leave together. Time must have gotten the best of me tonight.
Next time, if I’m going to admire Mr. Curls from afar, I need to be more vigilant about those around him. No need for rumors to get started.
* * *
“Hey, you,”I greet as Pianna appears on my phone screen.
“Are you just now getting off work?” she asks, moving around so that her image is blurred for a moment.
I toss my keys into the small bowl that sits on the console table and place my purse beside it.
“Kind of? I got off work but then I decided to treat myself to dinner on the way home.”
Pianna stops moving to give me an excited grin. “Please tell me it was with a guy?”
I snort. “Nope. It was just me, myself, and I. The best company, besides you, that there is.”
“Ugh, you really need to date. You’re going to end up old and crotchety if you’re not careful,” Pianna teases. “Oh! Is that a new couch?”
As I roll my eyes, I flip the screen of my phone around so she can see the inside of my small one-bedroom apartment. While the complex is older than most of the others in the area, it’s also nearly student-free, which is exactly what I wanted when I moved in. While I don’t mind helping them at work, living around college students is a nightmare I refuse to tolerate. I’ve had enough ofthosesince that fateful night at Pianna’s house to last me a lifetime.
“Nope, not a new couch, but a new throw and a few new pillows.”
While the kitchen is outdated and the carpet could be replaced, the rest of the apartment looks like it could be pulled directly out of a magazine. As a former real estate agent, I have an eye for how things should be staged. There shouldn’t be too much clutter, but it shouldn’t feel sparse. Colors should be neutral. There can be a personal touch here or there, but not too many for people to gain too much insight into your life. Glancing around at my space, I know I’ve nailed it.
“God, I need you to fly over here and do up my place as nice as yours,” Pianna sighs longingly.
I smile. “I do have better style than you.”
“When it comes to interior decorating, I’ll agree with you.”
We both chuckle as we move about our own separate spaces. We could’ve been living together. That had been the plan when we left Cohawk three and a half years ago. But it didn’t take us long before we both realized that a fresh start meant something different to each of us. I wanted peace and quiet, community and stability. Pianna, on the other hand, wanted a nightlife, excitement, unpredictability. So we’d gone our separate ways with the promise to stay in touch. It was scary at first, being without her. Having grown up together, Pianna and I hardly went a day or two without seeing one another. We relied on each other emotionally probably more than what is considered healthy, and we still do.
Especially since we both carry some heavy scars that had formed the night we killed Joey. Speaking of scars…
