“Yes. It was a rare moment of clumsiness.”
Gul leans over the table, pushing Cal’s plate out of the way so it won’t soil her uniform. “Is that really the story you’re going with? At least make it sound realistic.” She swallows, the arrogance in her expression giving way to something softer. “Did someone hurt you?”
The question is so abrupt, it steals my breath. Either I’m imagining it, or there’s concern underpinning her words. As if she knows what she’s asking about. I’m tempted to tell her about the threat my attacker growled into my ear.
Stop looking into Rook’s death, or I’ll kill you.
Distrust stays my tongue. I can’t tell her that. An admission like that would only give her more ammunition should she decide to annihilate my reputation. No, the fewer people who know about that particular threat, the better. Right now it’s just me and my attacker, and I’d like to keep it that way. My siblings are treating me with kid gloves as it is. If they found out my life was threatened, I have no doubt that Adrienne would tell our dad in a fit of do-gooding that would probably end up with us under house arrest, or guarded around the clock by a platoon of secret service agents.
I’m not ready to give up the semblance of freedom I have. I’ll take Steve, and leave it at that. Taking a sip of my lemon water, I say, “I’m fine, Gul. But thanks.”
Her eyebrows rise. “You’re being sincerely polite now? Wow, there really must be something going on with you.”
My fingers clench around my glass, but my expression remains placid. “No. Everything’s fine. A couple of black eyes aren’t going to stop me. Nothing keeps Charlotte Cavendish-Holt down.”
Gul sits back in her chair, her mouth flat. She seems… disappointed by my denial. “Right… Good to know.” She sighs. “You’re not the only one with a new bodyguard.” She points to a guy in plainclothes sipping from a thermos in the corner of the room. “I told my parents about the video, and instead of insisting I come home, they send him.”
I’m surprised she admitted this, and especially to me. We were never confidantes before this whole mess started. We weren’t even friends.
“Sorry.”
Gul nods. “Again with the politeness. See you.” She gets up and returns to her own table. For the first time, I notice how straight she sits, how still. Like she isn’t comfortable there with her friends. It’s kind of sad.
Slowly, the ebb and flow of conversation rises around us, everyone assuming that the lunchtime theatrical is over.
It doesn’t escape my notice that Ricardo is stiff beside me, careful not to brush my elbow with his, or to let his knee fall open against mine. The distance leaves me cold.
Adrienne’s eyes drift past me, and widen. A gasp escapes her lips.
My head whips up at this, and I twist in my chair to see whatever’s caught her off guard.
Kenneth has come rushing into the room. He stands in the doorway, his chest heaving as he holds a bag of ice over his shoulder. When he spots me, he comes barreling toward me, frowning, eyes dark. Tossing the bag on the floor at my feet, he kneels in front of me, eyeing my shiners. “Charlotte, I just heard. Are you okay?” One hand covers my knee with a light squeeze.
Out of the corner of my eye, there’s no mistaking Ricardo turning away. It’s the first time he hasn’t risen to Kenneth’s presence by pulling my hair or holding my hand. Dare I say, I miss it.
Behind me, Adrienne huffs. She must really not like Kenneth, because it’s the most unkind sound she’s ever made.
“It’s nice of you to deign to talk to me,” I grumble, pushing his hand off my knee. “What’s up with the ice?”
He shrugs. “Broken fridge in the health center. No big deal.”
I glance around. No one is paying us any attention, instead chatting with their table mates. Thankfully, Kenneth’s and my breakup is old news, so his arrival in the eatery isn’t gossip-worthy. Unlike the sparring match I had with Ricardo a few minutes ago.
Only Gul is watching us with interest. Beside her, Grady glances our way before bumping her with his shoulder, distracting her. I’m relieved when she takes her focus off Kenneth and me and takes one of her boyfriend’s fries with a smile.
I lick my lips, turning back to Kenneth. “Why have you been avoiding my calls for over a week?”
My ex’s eyebrows rise in feigned surprise. “What are you talking about? I haven’t been avoiding you.”
“Uh huh.” I get out my phone and scroll through my call log. “Then what’s your excuse for sending my last ten calls to voicemail, and then not calling me back? Did Gordo even tell you I stopped by?”
Kenneth gives a head shake, scooting closer to me. “Look, I’ve been busy. Between my internship hours and classes, I don’t exactly have a lot of free time.”
Finally, Ricardo’s arm snakes over the back of my chair. Like he’s staking a claim to trump Kenneth’s. I don’t hate it. It’s a relief to know that, despite my behavior earlier, he’s still with me. It’s not something I want to analyze right this second, though.
Crossing my arms, I lean toward Kenneth so only he can hear me. “Are you sure it’s that, and not the fact that I saw the footage of you here on campus the night Professor Rook was killed? What were you doing here, anyway?”
Kenneth’s expression tightens, and he pushes to a stand. “I was here dropping off the final paperwork for my intern hours. I’d just gotten out of night class, and it had to be turned in before I started here. I knew I wouldn’t have time to come by the next day, because it was my last at the morgue. I called you to tip you off about Alan R... er, Professor Rook’s autopsy, remember?”
“Sure,” I say, watching him walk away. I don’t believe him. Kenneth is lying about why he was here that night, and I’m going to find out why.
22
I’m lying primly on my bed with my arms crossed over my chest, taking a break from studying. Staring up at the ceiling, I can’t stop thinking about the fight I picked with Ricardo in the eatery two days ago. He was supposed to leave me after that display, decide I was too high maintenance, but he hasn’t. He even defended me, in front of everyone. Threatened those who continued to gossip about my woefully black eyes. What I don’t understand is why. I’m not exactly the easiest person to get close to, and it’s not like there are other benefits to our arrangement, at least for him.
Still, I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Between him, Genevieve, and Adrienne, I might actually be finding a group of friends who will stick around. Not like my bio dad, or Rhiannon. Or my mom and step-dad, for that matter. At one time or another, each of them has made me feel like I was too much—work, energy, consideration. Just too much.
Rhiannon’s leaving wasn’t entirely her own fault. I admit I played a role in her departure. But the rest?
My head lolls as I look out the window. The darkness outside is broken by the orange glow of the city lights bouncing off the clouds above. Shivering, I pull my faux fur blanket up to my chest. It’s a cold night. Too cold for snow.
“My eyes are going to fall out if I look at this tablet screen anymore,” Ricardo says from where he’s laying sprawled on his side on the floor, propped up on one elbow. Flopping onto his back, he stretches out his arms over his head. A groan escapes him as his muscles relax. His long, lanky body looks completely at home on my white, fluffy rug, almost like the cover of one of the romance novels my mom hides in her nightstand. All Ricardo needs is long, flowing blond hair and one less shirt.