Page 24 of What Happened on Roslyn Street?
“You saw me?” My voice falters toward the end.
“Yes,” he says. “From my dormitory. You were wandering in circles.”
“It’s the same way you smoke your cigarettes.” I offer no further commentary, thinking of our conversation the night before.
As bleak as it may sound, it’s difficult to care about my life now that Poppy is gone. If I die in the process of avenging her, it will be a good death.
“You think you understand me so well,” he says.
“I do.”
It’s a bluff. He continues to rattle me.
“I had you figured out the moment I met you,” I say.
“And you seemed to like whatever it was you saw,” he says bluntly, leaning back into his chair.
Each time he shows a bit of ego,it’s more shocking than the rest. He’s soft-spoken and mild one moment, and then he says something likethat.
“I don’t know what you?—”
“Yes, you do,” he says, cutting me off with soft words. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. I feel it, too.”
I’m supposed to continue denying his assumptions—because I donotfeel anything for this man aside from professional curiosity and mild annoyance. He’s no different than anyone else on this campus. They’re all suspects and nothing more, but…
He doesn’t need to know that. I don’twantto be close to him, but he may have the information I need. The closer I am, the more likely I am to find it.
“You fluster me,” I mutter—a truth, without denying his hefty accusation.
His eyes sparkle, lips twitching at the corner. “I would apologize, but you look very sweet when you’re flustered.”
What am I supposed to say to that?
It’s like I’ve never flirted in my life, my mind going blank. In a desperate attempt to stay busy, I fill my plate—with fruit, rice, eggs, and bacon. I’m hardly paying attention as I shovel a bite into my mouth.
His eyes are fixated on me, long fingers slowly picking at his food.
“I would like to walk you to class,” he says, with so little enthusiasm that it’s easy to agree to. It means nothing.
How many times will he insist on walking me around? It’s normal on this campus, I guess, but I can’t trust anyone to keep me safe.
“Sure.” I set down my fork. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked me about your watch.”
“You can hold onto it for me.” His eyes lock onto mine. “For now.”
There’s a promise behind his words, something unsaid.I don’t fully understand what it is, but it sends a shiver down my spine.
“It seemed important to you last night.”
“And it still is,” he says. “But I feel like you’re as stubborn as I am.”
“You may be right.” I manage a small, hesitant smile.
I’m willing to bet I’mmorestubborn than him—at least when it comes to Poppy.
“Iamright. You’re stubborn enough that you won’t tell me why you want to keep my watch so badly.” His voice drops. “But I expect to earn your trust in time.”
He will never earn my trust. I keep the thought to myself, but I’m worried it’s written all over—my eyes narrow, and I hold onto my fork with a vice grip.
