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“Why did you agree to help me?” I ask, curious as fuck.
She shrugs. “You looked…” She pauses and looks away.
“I looked?” I prompt.
“Desperate, okay. You look desperate and I took pity on you.”
“Wow,” I breathe. That’s a fucking first.I’m not sure anyone has ever taken pity on me before.
“So, are you going to go up there and see her or what?” When I don’t answer, she continues, “It’s not very Heir-like to hide away from your problems or be scared of a girl. Especially one as damaged as Abigail Bancroft.”
My teeth grind. I might have asked her because she was different, but I forgot that she has zero concern about the hierarchy of this place and will say exactly what she thinks.
Exactly what I don’t need right now.
“I’m not scared of her. I’m concerned and?—”
“So go unlock her door and see with your own eyes. You can sit and wait for us to catch a sighting as much as you like but she’s not making it easy.”
She stares at me, waiting for me to make a decision, say something or… fuck knows what.
“Fuck. FUCK,” I bark before storming toward the door and throwing it open with a lot more force than necessary.
“Good luck,” Kara calls after me.
I take the stairs two at a time, glaring death at anyone who dares to try to talk to me until I march down the secluded corridor where Abigail’s new dorm room is.
I can only assume they put her down here to give her peace and quiet. And while I might agree that she needs it, it also makes it really fucking hard for anyone to keep an eye on her.
Her door taunts me.
I’ve stared at it more than I want to admit to in the past few days.
She knows that I’ve been here the two times I’ve knocked. But there have been more instances where I decided against it. Convinced myself that she’s okay, that she really just needs space. That she doesn’t need me.
I stand there for the longest time just staring at the brass number on her door, debating what to do.
She doesn’t need you in her life…
“Fuck. Fuck.” Lifting my hand, I curl my fist and rap my knuckles against the door so softly, I almost can’t hear it.
My heart races as blood rushes past my ears.I’ve never been this indecisive about anything in my life.But then, Abigail has never fit neatly in any of the boxes I divide my life up into.
She’s never just been another girl at school. Nor has she really fallen into the friendship category. Sometimes, it’s like she’s one of the boys. But she doesn’t really fit there either.
She’s like a bright shining star who refuses to fit into any of my dark squares.
With a sigh, I knock again, louder this time.I’m hardly surprised when nothing happens.
“Red?” I call, hating the quiver in my voice.
This isn’t who I am.
Or at least, it isn’t anymore.
It’s been a lot of years since I was weak and unsure of myself.
Eatons aren’t weak.
