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“I’ll bring you to your room,” he says, his voice oddly formal considering what nearly happened between us just a few seconds earlier. And I can’t help but wonder if he’s glad for the interruption. Like maybe he’s already regretting bringing me here, never mind how close we just came to a full-blown make out.
“Arthur goes pretty easy on us on the weekends,” he says, shaking me away from my thoughts and back to the completely mortifying present. “But on school nights, he likes to keep to a schedule.”
Oh sure, blame it on Arthur. I frown at Braxton’s back as he heads for the door. I mean, fine, maybe it makes sense on the surface. But it also seems like a really convenient way to escape a potentially sticky situation.
One that’s pretty much entirely of his making.
One that he’s clearly having second thoughts about.
The trip back is quicker than expected, mostly because Braxton is practically running as I huff alongside him. By the time we reach the hall that leads to my room, I’m so out of breath, and so confused by his silence, I tell him I can take it from there.
“Thanks,” I say, standing awkwardly before him. “For—”
I wasn’t going to say anything that might get him into trouble, but I guess he doesn’t realize that, because he’s quick to cut in. “I think it’s best if we keep what happened between us.”
I’m not sure exactly which part he’s referring to—the part where he told me I’m trapped in a posh boarding school for time travelers or the almost kiss…or both.
What I do know is just before I turn away, I catch a glimpse of Elodie darting out of view.
