We swap numbers then part ways. When I glance back at her, she catches me looking.
Busted.
She smiles and waves, then disappears around a corner.
I don't know what to think about her. Malia isn’t like any other girl I’ve met before. I’m not sure what we’re in for working together on this project, but I think I’m going to enjoy it.
Chapter Four
Malia
“Earth to Malia.” A hand waves in front of my face.
I pull myself from my thoughts and turn to Samara. “What?”
“What?” She shoves me. “What are you thinking about? You’re totally on another planet, girl.”
“I told you, it was a late night with Holden.” I sigh and pick at my salad.
“Drugs again?” Raven frowns.
“What else?” I don’t look up from my food.
“Why didn’t you call us?” Jaiden asks.
“You know we have your back.” Samara pulls out one of her tight curls and lets it bounce back.
I sigh. “I know, but it was handled. He’s fine.”
“Did he go to class today?” Raven lifts a perfectly manicured brow.
“No idea.” I sip my water. “I’m working on boundaries, remember? I woke him before I left, but getting his butt out of bed is on him.”
“Good for you.” Jaiden gives me a smile that tells me he’s proud of me. “Not your circus, not your monkeys. Or is that the other way around? I always forget.”
I can’t help but relax. “Did I ever tell you all how much I love you?”
“Yes.” The corners of Raven’s mouth twitch. “But we can never hear it enough.”
Samara shoves her. “We love you too, girly. You never answered my question.”
“You asked a question?”
“What were you thinking about a minute ago?”
The others chime in with their agreement.
Sometimes I love having a close-knit group. Other times, it’s a pain. Like now.
“Well?” Jaiden scoots closer. “What has you all wrapped up?”
“Can’t a girl just be tired?” I finish off my kale and push my plate aside. “Holden has the worst timing, you know.”
“Tell your parents to have him committed again.”
“Why? So he can get right back to his drugs as soon as he leaves again?”
Raven rests her chin on her palm. “It’s not fair of them to put all this on you. Holden needs to suffer his own consequences.”
“Exactly.” I sit up straighter. “And he will when he misses his classes today.”
“Your parents won’t fix it all for him?” Jaiden gives me a knowing look.
“If they do, that’s on them.” I glance at the time. “I need to get going. Almost time for my next class.”
Samara grabs my hand. “Who are you going to call next time you have trouble with Holden?”
I force a smile. “My friends.”
They all speak at once while I grab my things and leave. I really do love them, but they can be a bit much at times. I’ll tell them about Lincoln soon enough. If there ends up being something to tell. Not much yet. He showed up at the restaurant and helped me with Holden, we had some pizza together, and now we’re partners in class—if he doesn’t change his mind and ask his friend instead. If not, I’m either on my own or will get stuck with that kid who smells like vinegar.
As I walk the path to my next class, my mind wanders from my family to the project for Behavioral Psychology. We’re basically getting graded on pranking people and seeing how they react. The professor wouldn’t agree, but essentially, that’s what we’re doing.
And I was the master prankster as a kid. Coming up with ideas will be a piece of cake.
“You again?”
I pull myself from my thoughts and find Lincoln in front of me. “Are you stalking me?”
He laughs. “I was going to ask you the same thing. Seriously, I never saw you before last night, and now all of a sudden you’re everywhere. What gives?”
“Fate?”
“Do you really believe in that?”
I shrug. “Anything’s possible, don’t you think?”
He frowns, and for a moment seems to go somewhere else mentally. “I wouldn’t say anything.”
“No? Like what?”
“A lot of things I don’t want to talk about.” His irises turn an icy shade.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to trigger you. Are we still on for the project?”
“Yeah. I just saw the email come through from the professor.”
“Did you read it?”
“Not yet.” He shakes his head. “I have to get to my next class. Speaking of, I’d better get going.”
“Yeah. Me too. Call me later.”
“Will do. See ya.”
“Bye.” Linc turns away, and even his steps seem sad. I really struck a nerve without meaning to. It makes me want to find out more about him. He’s gorgeous, troubled, and has eyes I could lose myself in.
There I go again, falling for someone too quickly. Always looking for a distraction from the dysfunction I have to deal with at home, and unlike my brother, my drug of choice is love. My therapist says it’s a coping mechanism, something I use to protect myself.
I take a deep breath and focus on an orange flower growing at the base of a tree. “I’m not going to fall for him. I need to fix myself first.”
Even though that could take a lifetime, assuming I managed to separate myself from my family. But that’ll never happen. I’m a fixer of other people. That’s how my parents raised me. I’m trying to unlearn it all, but how do you move on from the very basis of your understanding of how the world works?
Most of humanity doesn't live the way I’ve experienced life. But the experiences that shaped me are part of who I am. Twenty years of lies won’t be untangled in an easy manner.
My therapist has job security in me. That much is certain. At least as long as I keep getting sucked into my family drama. But how do I get away? They pay for my schooling, I work at their restaurant, and someone needs to protect my younger brothers. My parents sure won’t.
The hum of conversation brings me back to the present. I have to get to my next class. It’s halfway across campus, and I’ll be lucky to make it before the lecture begins.
Chapter Five
Lincoln
More than anything, I want to leave this study group. Tad, who decided he’s the leader, has been droning on for the past ten minutes. Nobody else seems to care. Two others are taking notes like he’s a teacher, or maybe they’re playing games on their phones. That’s what I should do. It would be a better use of my time than trying to stay awake for this guy.
I pull out my phone and remember I still need to read the email from my psychology professor. Or maybe I don’t, if Malia really has as many ideas as she claims. Not that I want to skirt through this, giving less than my fair share. I just can’t think of any social experiments. Nothing interesting, anyway. Everything I’ve come up with is just a twist on one of the videos we saw in class. And copying those is a quick way to a bad grade. We have to be creative.
A text comes in from Malia.
Malia: Did u read the email yet?
Linc: Nope.
Malia: Me either. When do u want to get together?
I want to tell her now, but I can’t get out of this study group.
Another text comes in.
Malia: No pressure. Just curious.
Crap. She thinks I’m trying to put her off.
Linc: I’m in a study group now. After its done?
Malia: OK. Library? An hour?
Linc: Sounds great.
Malia: CU soon.
She adds a few smiling emojis. I send some back.
“Anything you want to share with the rest of us?” Tad asks me, his chest puffed out.
Like I’m supposed to care that I’ve offended him. “Pardon?”
“If you don’t want to be here, you should
just leave.”
I cock a brow. “Really?”
“Yeah. We all need to pull our own weight.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” I lean forward, staring him down.
“How’s that?” he asks.
Some of the others around the table squirm.
I rest my elbows on the table. “Well, Tad, it seems you know everything. Why don’t you tell me?”
His nostrils flare.
I narrow my eyes. “Maybe you should let go of your power trip and give some of the rest of us a chance to put in our two cents. This is supposed to be a group project, after all.”
More squirming around the table.
Tad relaxes his stance and looks around the group. “Do you all feel that way?”
One girl looks up from her phone. “Pretty much.”
Tad’s mouth falls open. “And the rest of you?”
People look around at each other and mutter their agreements.
He folds his arms. “Fine. Discuss this without me. See how well you get graded.” Then he gathers his things and storms away.
“What just happened?” asks a girl.
“The professor loves him.” A guy groans. “We’re doomed.”
I shake my head. “I know his type. He’ll be back tomorrow ready to work with us.”
“What are we going to do, then?”
“We’ll each work on our part and be ready to discuss tomorrow.” I gather my things.
“What if he tells the professor we’re being unreasonable?”
“It’s five against one. He’s not going to say a word.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am.”
The others exchange worried glances before gathering their things and leaving.
I check the time. More than forty minutes until I’m supposed to meet Malia, and we didn’t discuss where in the library to find each other. I call her, but it goes straight to voicemail.
If I were smart, I’d use the extra time to study, but I’m edgy after dealing with that group. I walk around the third floor, keeping an eye out for Malia but only find study groups. The second floor has more people studying alone. I decide to sit and go over the psychology professor’s email so Malia and I will be on the same page when we meet. And reading over the parameters of a project shouldn’t be as mind-numbing as trying to focus on homework.
But the problem is finding an empty table, or even just a chair. They’re all taken. I make my way through the entire second floor twice and find nothing. Everyone else must have noisy roommates too. I go back up to the third floor and find the table my study group had been using full, just like every other one.
There’s probably something on the first floor or the basement. The first floor is always louder and the basement is cold and has all the old furniture the college is too cheap to get rid of. Neither is an ideal place to attempt to study, but it’s what I’ve got.
I head for the elevator—I’ve already gotten plenty of steps today—but stop cold as I pass a chair at the end of a row of books.
Malia. She’s sitting there with her eyes closed and earbuds in, but that isn’t what makes me freeze in place. It’s the tears streaming down her face.
My heart immediately goes out to her, but I don’t know if I should say anything. She doesn’t see me. I could either give her privacy or try to comfort her. We’ve known each other for less than twenty-four hours. It’s a tough call to make. She’ll probably be embarrassed for me to see her crying. Or maybe she won’t care. I did help her with her brother, and she was crying then. Plus, him vomiting all over the place was by far the worst part of the evening.
I glance back and forth between her and the elevator, my pulse pounding. What should I do?
She starts shaking then wipes her face.
Like the brave man I am, I leap out of sight. Lean against the bookshelf and take a deep breath.
I wish I knew the right answer. Maybe trying to comfort her would be best. I mean, if she didn’t want anyone seeing her upset, wouldn’t she hide in a bathroom stall or something? Go somewhere a little less public? On the other hand, it isn’t like she’s expecting me to see her yet. She’s probably expecting we’ll meet on the bustling first floor.
If only I knew her just a little better, this would be an easier decision. I don't want to mess things up this early on. This project is going to be a major part of our grade, and we’re going to be spending significant time together. If she gets mad at me now, this could be as much fun as the study group I just left.
On the other hand, if she does get mad at me, it may as well be for caring. I’d rather be accused of that than being insensitive.
So, I have my answer.
My heart rate increases slightly. I march back over to the chair.
It’s empty.
Empty? She was just there.
Maybe she went to the bathroom for privacy.
This could be a good thing. Trying to comfort her might’ve been the wrong choice.
I glance around for her then collapse onto the chair. My brain hurts and my eyelids are heavy. If I don’t start to get more sleep, I might have to crash at my parents’ place for the weekend to get some rest. With so many roommates in such a small apartment, things can get even crazier on days off. As much as I’d rather avoid home, climbing into my old bed sounds heavenly.
My decision is made. I’m heading home for the weekend to sleep as much as possible. But for now, I need to go over that email. I pull out my phone and read it, but my mind keeps wandering back to Malia. Is she upset about her brother, or is it something else altogether?
I really should’ve asked her if she was okay instead of chickening out and hiding behind books.
Next time.
Pushing aside my regret, I focus on the assignment. It’s basically what the professor explained in class but more detailed. Far more detailed. Mind-numbingly detailed. I’m going to have to print this out and highlight it with different colored markers. It’s going to be that difficult to keep straight.
At any rate, I know Malia and I need to figure out the social experiments we’re going to conduct. She said she has ideas. Maybe when I hear those, I’ll get some of my own.
I shove my phone into my bag and stand. Just as I’m about to head for the elevator, Malia rounds a corner. Her eyes light up and she waves, smiling. Her hair has been brushed, her makeup fixed, and she shows no signs of having just been in tears.
Now I can’t ask about what had her upset.
She bounces over. “You’re done with your group already?”
“Yeah, it got done early.”
“You’re so lucky. The study groups I get stuck with always run long.”
“There were some differences of opinions,” I say. “We had to call it a day in order for people to chill.”
Malia steps closer. “That’s good news for us. We can get our project going. I’m looking forward to it. I used to be such a prankster as a kid. This’ll be like that, but without getting into trouble.”
There’s a gleam in her eyes that almost makes me forget she was crying minutes ago.
“Sounds like fun. I always liked pranks too.”
“Great.” She glances behind me. “There’s a free table. Let’s start brainstorming!” She rushes past me, her hair flying back behind her and leaving a floral perfume in her wake.
It takes me a moment to realize she’s already at the table. How did she go from crying to bubbly so quickly? It’s dizzying.
“Come on!” She waves me over and spreads papers out on the table.
I pull myself together and join her. On each page, she has a single title. They must be the prank ideas—I mean the assignment ideas.
Staring at a wall.
Dancing in an elevator.
Walking through campus in curlers.
Pretending to be sick.
The rest are covered.
I meet her gaze. “You’ve been busy.”
“Oh, these are just
some initial ideas. I’m sure we’ll come up with more interesting ones.” She spreads them all out so each title can be seen. “I know the elevator seems risky since it was one from the videos, but she did mention that elevators are great places to test human behavior. Since we’re going to try a bunch of experiments, I think it would be smart to do one in an elevator, don’t you think?”
“I’m sure it won’t hurt, if we do some really imaginative ones.” I point to one page. “You want to walk through campus in curlers?”
“No.” She grins with a gleam in her eyes. “You’re going to!”
“Wait, what? No. We’re the experimenters. Remember, we have to record the results. And get video. I never agreed to wearing curlers on campus.”
“I didn’t take you for the shy type. Well, I bet my friend Jaiden would do that. He loves to make people laugh.”
A prickle of jealousy stings, though I don’t know why. I just met this girl. And I’m not even looking for a relationship. “I’ll think about it, okay?”
“Good.” She gives me an expression I can’t read, she seems pleased but there’s something else there. “Do you have any ideas?”
I glance over hers, doubtful we’ll even have time to run all of those. “Not yet. I just finished reading over the email.”
“No worries. We have plenty of time. We’ll call this early part of the process Project Brainstorm. We’ll come up with as many ideas as we can, the weirder the better.”
“Sure, yeah. Let’s do that. Brainstorm through the weekend, then decide which ones and start planning them out?”
“Exactly what I was thinking.” She points from her head to mine. “I’m glad we’re on the same wavelength.”
I start to smile when her phone buzzes on the table.
She frowns and looks at the screen.
“Everything okay?” I ask, glad to finally be able to see how she’s really doing.
“Family drama. Again.” She sighs. “Sorry, I have to cut this short. I’ll keep coming up with ideas. Meet again tomorrow? Or wait until later, after Project Brainstorm?”
When You Start to Miss Me: A Romantic Suspense (Wildflower Romance Book 3) Page 3
