Page 8 of Atone

“It’s fine.” Patience’s eyebrows pull, and her tone doesn’t match her words.

Clearly, my attempt to encourage peace between Patience and Teal at the carnival failed. And even if it had worked, last night was bound to throw things off kilter again when Teal disappeared with Declan at a Sigma Sin party.

Teal’s smile thins. “Well, I should get going.”

“Wait.” Patience stops her, the tension thick between them.

I brush past to give them some space. “I’ll wait in here.”

Neither of them seems to hear me as they step into the hallway to talk.

I’m grumbling as I make my way into Alex’s room. Too distracted by the constant battle between my roommates to realize I’ve made a huge mistake. Every other time I’ve visited Montgomery, Patience acted as a barrier. But when I freeze in the middle of the room and spot Alex sitting on the bed, I’m very aware that we’re completely alone.

He doesn’t look up, but there’s a current of awareness that ripples out of him. Anxiety swells with the pressure thick in the air. Without Patience here to ramble through the silence, I hear every scratch of his pencil on the page of his journal. Every click of the air conditioning working through the vents.

Alex is wearing his usual gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt, looking as good as ever. His dirty-blond hair waves over his forehead. Sometimes his golden strands appeardarker. But with the sun streaming through his windows, the sunny day draws out every highlight.

He doesn’t acknowledge me as I unfreeze my legs and step deeper into the room, taking a seat at the cushioned bench that lines the far window. He continues writing in his journal, lost in his own world.

Patience told me that Alex used to sketch and write when he was younger, but that it’s one more thing Sigma House snuffed out in him. It must be a good thing if he’s back at it.

On Alex’s right is a tray of untouched food. Half the items are gray and don’t look edible, which explains why he hasn’t bothered to eat them.

A steady knocking sound comes from the wall behind his bed.

Knock.

Knock. Knock.

Knock.

Knock. Knock.

It’s endless and unnerving.

“What’s going on over there?” I ask, mostly to myself, eyeing the wall behind him as the knocking continues. “As if there aren’t enough reasons for this place to drive a person out of their mind.”

Alex’s pencil pauses on his page at my comment, and my heart stops.

Did I really just say that out loud?

Alex angles his chin up ever so slightly, and his gaze is a lightning strike to the heart when it catches mine. It alters my core. Turns sand to glass and ricochets off every nerve ending.

He looks at me.

No—lookisn’t a big enough word when his gaze consumes the oxygen in my lungs.

I’ve never seen Alex look at anything more than a wall or a book or his sister. But he’s looking atmeright now.

His eyes are hazel, like I’ve seen in the many photos Patience keeps around our dorm room. But no lens captures his exact shade of green with an undercurrent of gold. Rivers of color that sway and shift with the sunlight streaking through the window. Colors that twist and twine together like the fabric of a tapestry.

Such rich color, overwhelmed by the darkness that brews beneath.

It’s haunting.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said. That was thoughtless.” I fidget with my dark hair, pulling it into a ponytail. “You aren’t crazy or anything. Not that it would matter if you were. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m not judging. Just saying that knocking is… annoying.”

I swear his expression almost cracks. Or maybe it’s my imagination because his mouth hasn’t flinched.

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