Page 11 of Pretty Threats

Killian: In person u come over

I stiffen. I don’t want to see him in person. Being anywhere near him is dangerous.

Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I frown. Killian lives off campus. I only know the address because Marianne told me in case there was an emergency.

I went by his place, just to see what it looks like. It’s actually a huge building. From the street, it feels eerie because of the shadows it casts and the lack of windows on the upper half of the old brick building.

Going inside that place to be alone with Killian is a hard no. My heart beats a drum of objection in my chest. Don’t do it!

But if I don’t go, I know what will happen. He’ll come to me.

His showing up in the courtyard was proof of his ability to get to me. A badge swipe is necessary to get in, so only residents are supposed to have access. But there he was, sitting alone on the picnic table, proving he can go wherever he wants.

Such bullshit. Could he have gotten through the gate that leads into Meredith Hall, too? Even the guys from Moses can only get in and out of the gate attached to their own hall, not through ours. Boys are allowed in Meredith’s lobby during the daytime, but they have to be buzzed in and are captured on the lobby cameras.

If Killian comes for me, he won’t enter through the lobby. He’ll come through my window, so he’s not seen.

I check again to be sure my window’s locked.

Sighing, I stretch my neck. During my first weeks on campus, I almost forgot he was here. I never spotted him hanging around. My life chugged along smoothly. College life was great.

I can’t see a way to avoid going to his place. If I insist on staying outside while we talk, that’ll provide some protection.

As I rise and change out of my pajama top and shorts, I think about that night that started us on the path that led to this… “to blood being spilled” as Killian whispers when he refers to what happened.

At the time, Killian and I were friends. Of sorts.

When my dad and I moved into Marianne’s, Dad considered sending me to the public high school. Marianne wanted me to go to St. Sebastian’s where she “knew everyone.”

At St. Seb’s, Killian was very popular. He was a star athlete in football and rowing. He’d won a place in a US junior rowing program, beating out everyone else in the state, including boys who’d been training for much longer.

When I was first trying to fit in at school, I asked him about people. From his responses, he seemed to hate everyone there. “Useless.” “Moron.” “Bitch.” “Asshole.”

Despite his judgements and my nerves, I made friends from the drama department right away. That’s who I sat with at lunch. They didn’t seem to mind my canvas pants or thrifted shirts.

One day at lunch, Killian ignored the athletes’ table and sat next to me. He wasn’t friendly toward my friends, but that’s who he seemed to have come to talk to. Or interrogate, really, since he asked blunt, blatantly rude questions, even about sexual orientation. He didn’t smile once.

When he left halfway through the hour, I shook my head. “Sorry about that. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“Nothing physical, that’s for sure,” my friend Robin said wistfully. When questioned, Robin had been quick to tell Killian he was gay. “Too bad he wasn’t here to fish for new conquests. He’s already picked her out.”

I stared at Robin. “What do you mean?”

“He sat next to you.”

“And he didn’t say one thing to me.”

The corner of his mouth curved into a small smile. “No, because he came to size up the competition.”

“He’s kind of my brother.”

“And he’s kind of not.” Robin chewed on a carrot stick and cocked his head.

Shaking my head, I frowned. “I don’t even think he likes me. Or anyone. Hating everyone is kind of his thing.”

“Yeah, but in this case, I don’t think it’s about liking you.” Robin turned his head to study Killian, who was scowling, as usual. “Of everyone in the school, I’d bet money he hates you the least.”

That caused everyone to laugh.

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