Page 33 of Freshman

Marie pursed her lips. “But I think it might rain.”

Alfie frowned at Marie’s sudden ability to tell the future. He turned to her, then winced at the jolt of pain up his neck.

“Was that your neck? I could give you a massage.”

Alfie held his hands up in surrender. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

“It looks like it hurts. I’m good with my hands. I’ll sort it out.”

Glen bashed his heel into the drawers of the desk and muttered more words Alfie couldn’t decipher.

He gestured to Glen, then Marie. “Look, I don’t want to get caught up in this.”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to get caught up in.”

“Not now you’ve called it a day,” Glen snapped.

“I need to think about my family,” Marie said, eyeing the floor.

“Then why are you trying your luck with Alfie?”

“I only offered him a ride home.”

Alfie jumped to his feet and raised his hands. “Don’t involve me in this, and for the record, I sway more toward Glen.”

Heat filled his face at his admission, but he didn’t know why.

Then Henry laughed, his phlegm-ridden laugh, and his eyelids peeled back. “I told you to keep that to yourself, and here you are, jumping up and down and shouting it out.”

“I just wanted to stop this from escalating, and that was the quickest way.”

Marie’s mouth popped open, but no words followed.

Glen had a smug smile on his face and flexed his eyebrows before stilling them with a look of panic. “I’m straight.”

Alfie clapped and nodded. “Good for you. Roll call?”

They nodded and followed him out.

Henry shoved the glasses back over his eyes and sunk into his chair.

Alfie knocked on door 149 with his forehead. His face hadn’t cooled, and he still reeled with embarrassment. “Queenie?”

“Yep. I’m here, but you’re killing me with the hour checks. Give them a rest.”

Alfie sighed through his nose. “Sorry, protocol after a suicide attempt.”

“For the last time, I wasn’t trying to top myself.”

The gate to the lobby slammed shut, and Alfie peered over the railing.

Marie stood on one side and Glen on the other. He had his hands at his sides, fiercely whispering at her for slamming the gate on him.

“What’s that about?” Queenie asked.

Alfie rubbed at his skin, watching the argument unfold. They had the awareness to argue in hushed voices, but their exaggerated arm movements and posturing made Alfie snort.

“I think there’s been a breakup,” Alfie muttered.

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