Clenching my teeth with determination, I lifted my bag and swung it over my shoulder. I refused to lose my assistant position with Dr. Z. Cyrus could take his thought-provoking, eloquently worded questions and shove them up his ass.
WATER? CHECK. MUFFIN? CHECK. Even handsomer in his black-rimmed glasses, the spot-stealer sitting at the table to my left, working his ass off?
I sighed. Check.
We'd been in the basement of the Fitzgerald Building for two hours and hadn't spoken. The boring rock was in a glass case on the other side of Cyrus, and he was simultaneously looking through a microscope and typing his data into the computer.
I pulled my mouth to the side. I couldn't type and study matter in a microscope at the same time. That's okay. I'll learn how.
Just once, I'd caught him glancing at me. His golden eyes returned to the microscope so quickly that I thought it was my imagination. At least he didn't catch the other dozen or so times I'd glanced at him.
My fingernails were clicking against the keyboard. I'm going to have to cut them tonight. It's not like they're manicured or anything anyway.
I chewed off another hangnail, spit it onto the cement floor, and then took a bite of my pathetic dinner. Muffin crumbs fell onto the table. Cyrus hadn't eaten or sipped a single drop of coffee since he arrived. I set down the mangled mess of bread barely contained in its paper holder.
Focusing on how to compete with perfection over there instead of entering the numbers correctly was going to lose me my spot. I snapped out of it and began typing data as if a fire were engulfing the room and I had to finish to live.
At midnight, Cyrus packed his things, and without saying a word, he walked out of the room and shut the door behind him.
"Yes!" I yelled to no one and lifted both fists in the air. Day one, and I'd beaten him. I was going to stay at least another hour, making sure to tell Dr. Z the next day that I stayed later than Cargo Pants.
Then, I realized it was super quiet without Cyrus's clicking and shifting, and being in the basement alone was actually kind of creepy. But it didn't matter. I was going to stay an hour after Cyrus. An hour was a respectable amount of time to report.
At one a.m., I yawned, cracked my knuckles, and packed my things. There was an elevator with a set of stairs on each side, which I preferred. I had an aversion to elevators, especially alone and at night. That was where I'd met my killers.
After climbing the stairs and pushing through both sets of glass doors out to the front of the building, I noticed a group of students walking and then another group. Scanning the area, I saw that many students were heading in the same destination, and feeling like a lemming, I joined the line.
The group led me five blocks off campus to an old building, down the stairs, and through a door. The sounds and smells were overwhelming. It was a rave, the fake kind with sorority girls and wannabe think-tank members. In the two years since I'd moved east to Kempton, I'd stayed away from raves, parties, rallies, underground fights, and people in general. Yet, here I was, for no particular reason, breathing in heavy smoke, stepping in sticky god-knows-what, and allowing the Top 40 to violate my eardrums.
I turned on my heels and shoved open the door to leave, slamming it right into Benji Reynolds's nose.
"Cheese and rice!" he yelled, holding his face and bending over at the same time. Blood began to seep between his fingers.
"Damn it, Benji!" I said, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him across the room.
A line was formed on the far side of the room. At this type of party, that meant a restroom or keg was close. So, I took my chances and shoved past everyone.
Relieved to see a door instead of a keg, I exhaled. "Thank Christ."
"For what?" Benji said in a nasally voice. He was pinching his nose, his head tilted back. He followed when I dragged him inside.
"Hey!" a girl whined. "You can't cut!"
"Deal with it," I said before closing the door in her face.
I pulled several paper towels from the box on the wall and handed them to Benji. He wiped his hands while I pinched his nose with several tissues.
"Thanks, Rory," he said, his nasal voice muffled.
I sighed. "Don't thank me. I hit you."
"It's not your fault. I was excited. I was coming here and saw you and--"
"Benji"--I closed my eyes and shook my head--"don't."
He nodded, looking embarrassed.
I dampened another paper towel and cleaned the blood off his hands while he continued to pinch his nose and point his chin to the ceiling. He was a head taller than I was, so I had to stand on the tip of my toes to hold the tissue to his nose when his head was tilted back like that.
Someone pounded on the door.
"Just a minute, assholes!" I yelled.
Benji's sheepish smile was annoyingly charming. His short sandy-brown hair was parted and feathered back just so, and his almond-shaped brown eyes disappeared behind a curtain of long eyelashes that any woman would pay good money for. Teeth an orthodontist would be proud of along with a strong jawline would score him any number of nice young ladies. But I was neither nice nor a lady, and I couldn't imagine why he pursued me so ardently.
I hated to admit it, but I was maybe just a tiny bit attracted to Benji. But he was nice. Too nice. And I didn't want nice. I didn't want anyone.
"C'mon," I said when his nose stopped bleeding. His shirt and cheek still had blots and smears of crimson. "I'll walk you home."
"I should be the one walking you home."
"I'm not the one bleeding."
Someone pounded on the door, and I opened it. The girls crowding the restroom took a step back as I glared at them and pulled Benji along.
"It's a nice night," Benji said as we walked into the street that led back to campus.
"Yeah, I guess."
"You should go running with me in the morning."
"You shouldn't be running in the morning. Your nose could be broken. Sleep in for once."
He chuckled, dismissing my advice. "Sorry you missed the party."
"I was on my way out, remember?"
"I thought it was weird that you were going there."
"Why?"
Benji laughed. "Because you never go to parties."
"Oh. Yeah." I peeked over at Benji. He looked ridiculous, smeared with blood and smiling. The corners of my mouth turned up.
"Wow, did you just smile?"
I forced my face to relax.
Benji shoved his hands in his pockets. "I can mark that off my bucket list."
"You do that."
We arrived at the Sherman L. Charleston Men's Dormitory, otherwise known as Charlie's. It was once where all the cool, nerdy engineering students lived, but that was before we were born. Now, it was full of run-of-the-mill engineering nerds, like Benji.
Benji checked the paper towel a few times before wiping his nose once more and tossing the blood-saturated napkin into a garbage can ten feet away. It went straight in. He looked at me with a proud smile.
"Night, Benji. Put some ice on that nose."
"Will do. You...you sure you don't want me to walk you--"
"I'm sure. See you around."
I turned around but stopped when Benji's hand gripped my wrist. Out of pure instinct, I grabbed his wrist with my free hand and pulled him over my shoulder, slamming him to the ground. He grunted as the air got knocked out of him when he hit the cement.
"For fuck's sake! I'm sorry!" I said, half-embarrassed and half-pissed that I was being forced to be nice to him again.
Benji groaned.
"Are you...are you hurt?" I felt so awkward. Part of me wanted to walk away, to not care. It would have been easier than standing there, my hands hovering over Benji, unsure where to grab to help him up.
"Even though I know you're unpredictable, you never cease to surprise me. Where did you learn to do that?"
"None of your business. Can you stand?"
"Will you attack me again if I try?"
> I rolled my eyes and helped him to his feet. "I didn't attack you. I was defending myself."
Benji laughed once and pointed at his chest. "From me?"
I didn't like the way he was looking at me. It was nice and amused and flirty, every way he shouldn't be.
"You're an asshole. I almost felt bad for a moment, and you're laughing at me."
I started to walk away, but Benji grabbed my wrist again.
I looked back at him and then at my wrist. "Are you suicidal?"
"Obviously," he said and then let go. "C'mon. Sit down for a minute."
"It's cold. I'm going home."
"Then, I'll walk you."
"Benji," I sighed, frustrated. "No. I can take care of myself."
"Clearly."
"You make me crazy! And before you ask, no, not in a good way."
He sat down on the second step and patted the space next to him. "You broke my nose. You can't give me five minutes of sympathy conversation?"
"Is that an attempt at a guilt trip?"
"Yes."
I sat down next to him, crossing my arms.
He smiled. "Are you really cold?"
"No."
"Are you hungry? We could make a McD's run."
I made a face, leaning away from him. "You are suicidal. Every time you eat there, you're one step closer to a heart attack."
"Who cares? It's so good."
"I'm not hungry."
We sat there for several minutes in awkward silence. At least, it was awkward for me. Benji seemed content.
"Well...I guess I'd better get going," I said, standing up.
Benji stood with me. "You never said why you went to that party."
"I just needed to get out," I said. "That happens sometimes to me."
"You should try The Gym. It's a good way to burn off steam. Helps me sleep."
"The Gym," I deadpanned.
He laughed. "Yeah. Just try it with me once. If you don't feel better afterward, then you never have to go again."
I thought for a moment. "Maybe."
He shook his head and held up his bloodstained hands. "I'll take maybe."
I left him alone in front of Charlie's, feeling like he was watching me walk away. I didn't look back to find out. Being nice gave off the incorrect impression that I wanted to be a friend or, in Benji's case, possibly something more. So, I wasn't nice. At least, I tried not to be. Sometimes, the old me bubbled to the surface.
The walk home was chilly and lonely. It was probably because, for the twenty minutes Benji was around, I'd gotten used to the company. That was exactly what I didn't want. Using my card key to get into my dorm, I walked into the hallway, cussing Benji for bringing out that side of me.
I took the stairs as usual but couldn't avoid passing the elevators on the way. My mother's eyes flashed through my mind. I'd seen the line between her brows and the strange look in her gaze just before she died. My father always said she was tough. She was, even as she took her last breath. Her eyes held so much sadness--for being helpless to save me and for the life she thought I would miss out on. She didn't think about herself in those last moments. She was asking me for forgiveness with her eyes, and through the dirty rag tied around my mouth, I gave it to her. I just couldn't forgive myself.
The lock to my room clicked, and only then did I realize I'd just climbed two flights of stairs. My mind had been so far away that I wasn't even conscious of where I was going. It was unsettling. I pushed through the heavy wooden door and leaned back against it until it slammed shut. Reaching behind me, I switched on and then back off the light, turned the lock, and then walked toward my bed, tossing my messenger bag onto the tattered love seat across the room.
Fully dressed, I let myself fall onto the bed, face down into the pillow. A groan escaped from my throat, loud enough for my neighbor Ellie, the bossy, bitchy beauty of the campus to hear. She loved to tell me that my crappy music was too loud, my clothes were too black, and my social life was too sad. It was okay though because I was proud of the fact that I didn't listen to cheesy pop songs or let everyone see my tits in one of four hundred too-tight V-neck sweaters, and I wasn't a slutty, whorish whore. Okay, that was harsh. But in our four semesters at Kempton, she'd had the dicks of at least three professors in at least one of her orifices--and those were only the ones she'd bragged about.
I turned onto my side, hoping, praying that I would fall asleep before the memories came too fast and hard to block out. Instead of going through that painful nightly ritual, my eyes focused on the light seeping in beneath my door. My head popped up. Two shadows partially blocked the light.
Feet.
Every muscle tensed, froze, and caught on fire at the same time. Regardless of how much fear screamed through every vein in my body, I was drawn to the danger. I needed to face it head-on, just like last time. Before common sense could step in, one hand was on the lock, the other turning the knob. The door opened so fast, the air from the hallway brushed against my face.
"Cyrus," I whispered, too shocked to say his name aloud.
He was equally surprised, nearly jumping out of his own skin. "It's, uh...it's just Cy actually. Thank you."
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Listening."
"To what?"
"Your door."
"My door," I said flatly. An awkward silence fell between us, but then I shook my head, and a freak-out commenced. "What do you mean you were listening to my door? My door? Why?"
Cy held out his palms, walking into my room. "No, no, please. It's not as salacious as it appears. I was just making sure you were home. Safe." He shut my door behind him, motioning for me to quiet down.
"Why?" I said, my face screwing in disgust.
Cy seemed frustrated and lost. "I...I don't know. You're alone. You do dangerous things. I worry about you."
My eyes narrowed. "You don't know anything about me."
Cy fidgeted. "Dr. Z might have mentioned--"
"Oh, fuck. What has he told you?"
"That you have a foul mouth, for one."
"What else?"
"That you're alone, and you do dangerous things. I just told you--"
"I don't need anyone checking up on me," I said, twisting the doorknob.
Cy held the door closed with his hands. "I apologize for the intrusion. I couldn't help myself. I told myself many times that I shouldn't."
"So, why did you?"
"I don't know. Good night." With that, he opened the door and walked down the hall.
I shut the door and locked it, my anger and confusion quickly doused with an uncontrollable smile.
"WHO SPENT THE NIGHT?" Ellie was standing a few feet down the hall, locking her door at the same time I was. Her long brown curls cascaded down her back in perfect spirals.
My hair used to be the same length as hers, but she didn't feel like she had to wash blood out of hers every night.
She smiled and shifted her weight to her other hip, her mile-long legs actually covered with tight jeans. I looked down, perturbed that mine were just as tight. I didn't want to be anything like Ellie.
"I have to say," she said, not waiting for my answer, "I'm surprised, whoever it was. Your new haircut is absolutely appalling."
"Good," I murmured.
"What was that?"
"I said, you're a whore," I replied, slinging my bag over my shoulder. That was definitely worth a smile, so I wore one all the way to class.
My thick cable cardigan wasn't enough to ward off the cold, so I kept my arms wrapped tightly around my chest. Everyone else was wearing heavy coats and knitted hats, but I never thought about things like that. I had formulas and data sparking the synapses in my brain, along with horrible memories and now...the golden eyes of the confusing jerk I didn't want to think about.
But I did think about him--a lot. During class, at night, weekends, and in the lab, I wondered about him. It became a game for me to make up his history and background. I'd wonder if he had a h
appy childhood or if he was at Kempton to run away from an overbearing father. In every scenario though, he was alone and lonely, and no matter how much I wanted to despise him, I just couldn't even if it meant he was planning to steal my research assistant position. I knew he was definitely up to something.
"What do you think his evil plan is?" Benji whispered in my ear.
It had been two weeks since I smashed his nose, and the bruising had finally begun to fade.
"Who?" I asked.
"Cyrus."
"What makes you ask?"
"He's just got that look in his eye, you know? Like he's up to something."
Get out of my head, Benji. "No, I don't know." It was the truth. I didn't know, and hell if I was going to give Benji Reynolds the chance to say we had something in common.
"Lunch today?" he asked.
"Sure," I said, typing Dr. Z's last point into my laptop.
Eating with Benji was a much better alternative to eating alone in one of the cafeterias. He was the only student at KIT who didn't have to blather on about whatever project he was working on, and he wasn't bad to look at either.
"Now, be quiet. I can't miss any notes."
I trained my ears back onto Dr. Z's lecture. With all the wondering and hypothesizing about Cy, I'd become unfocused in my classes, and it was beginning to show. Typically an A student, I was struggling in some classes to retain a B. Dr. Z noticed Bs, and when he noticed something, he wouldn't leave me alone until I made him un-notice.
Just another reason to hate Cy. He was becoming a huge distraction.
"You're doing it again," Benji said.
"Shh."
"Watching him. I'm hoping it's because you're suspicious of him like me."
"Or maybe I'm counting how many times he draws a dot on his paper, which is two hundred and thirty-nine."
"Really?"
"Really."
"How can you tell from up here?"
"I noticed the dots in his notebook in the lab a week ago. Now, I sort of notice."
"I wonder what they mean."
I looked over at Benji's book where he'd doodled letters of the alphabet in different fonts. They were actually pretty good. "What does that mean?"
"That I'm bored mostly."
"There's your answer. Cy just can't draw as well as you."
Benji smiled, seeming satisfied with that answer. What I wasn't telling him was that Cy's dots were always in intricate patterns, and sometimes he added in what looked like hieroglyphics. But I wasn't interested in investigating Cy and certainly not with Benji, so I kept that tidbit of information to myself.
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