Page 91 of Change
“Don’t misunderstand!” Miles’s panic faded, and he grasped my hands. “I’m really glad to see you. I’m just surprised. How did you…” He looked past me, and his fingers tightened over mine. “Oh,Anthony.”
“Hello to you too.” Anthony had finally joined our circle, looking rather relaxed with a purse thrown over his shoulder. “It all worked out. Looks like you needed some help.”
“What are you talking about?” Miles’s voice took on a strange high-pitched tenor. “I do not need—”
“Who isshe, Miles?” The now offering-less woman was eyeing me in suspicion, and she was no longer alone as a fellow fan joined her for moral support.
The witch’s face was bright red, and after shooting one last glare at Anthony, he grabbed my elbow, pulling me to his side. It was a good thing too, because now that my anger and hurt faded, the crippling grip of terror was beginning to take shape in my thoughts.
What had I done? What was wrong with me?
I’d been so blinded by jealousy that I’d thrownmyselfinto the spotlight.
“Hello…” Miles paused, addressing the rabble. “Everyone. This is Bianca Dubois.”
“Dubois!” Someone gasped, and the twittering started.
“IknewI recognized her.” “That explains why she’s been drinking all the coffee; they must have a lot of late-night study sessions.” And the last, “She’s so lucky to be married to Professor Dubois. I’d love for him to tutor me every night, all night.”
The bile was thick in my throat—if I didn’t escape soon, I was going to throw up in front of all these people. I wasn’t sure what was worse: their envious looks or the super gross rumors.
As if anyone would need to study anything withBryce. I might not loathe him anymore, but I couldn’t deny that his performance in the classroom had been lackluster.
How was it possible for a room to be both hot and cold?
“So, please, be nice to her,” Miles was saying, and my face grew even warmer.
While it was kind of him to intercede on my behalf, why did this feel sowrong?
What was I doing here again?
“Right, cool. Whatever.” The shirt-girl picked up the fallen garment off the dirty concrete floor and held it back out. “Anyway, will you accept this? I’m free tonight, and I already know there’s no strings attached.”
My eyebrow twitched as the heat fled from my face. Oh…right.
Tonight? No strings?
I knew exactly what was going on. I’d read about situations like this. Humans and penguins were not so different after all, and our feathered cold-weather friends frequently exchanged rocks—since they didn’t wear shirts—as payment for future sexual entanglements.
The correlation was not lost on me.
“No.” I stepped in front of Miles and smacked at the girl’s hands. “Miles willnotbe getting laid tonight.” Or ever.
Not so long as I could help it.
She pulled her hand to her chest, holding it, as she shot me a disbelieving look. “Who are you to—”
“This goes for all of you.” I pointed at her first, then waved my hand in a circle, to include the now-staring mass. The crowd seemed to grow larger, but that was unimportant. “You claim to love Miles, but how can you call yourselves his fans when you’re acting like this?”
Shirt-girl lowered her arms, eyebrows drawing together as her bright blue eyes flashed with annoyance. “What do you mean?”
I stepped back, pressing my hand against Miles. His heart was racing, and his breath tight, but he made no move to help me.
I took his silence as acceptance.
“If you truly cared about him—”likeme, I thought but didn’t add, “—you’d appreciate how your constant hovering can make it hard for a man to succeed.”
The audacity of the open-mouthed group made my ire grow stronger. He was haunted by stalkers. Probably more than we even knew, since he was generally too kind to complain. How in the world couldanyoneconcentrate on competitive sports while people were screaming at them?
