Page 51 of Wicked Prince

As long as it's not meeting with the Rossis, I’ll find a way to deal with it.

Thursday morning classes are a little harder to drag myself out of bed for, but I tell myself I'll get used to the new routine eventually. I never realized how out of shape I was until walking between tables for six hours made me feel like I ran a marathon.

At least I don't have any classes with Lorenzo so I don’t have to worry about whether he shows up or doesn't.

And it's a crapshoot which would be more stressful.

If he had any idea I was actually worried about him, he'd probably never stop laughing. I can't help but laugh at myself, either. It's truly pathetic. The guy doesn't give a damn about me one way or the other, so why should I care about him?

Even if he is a crucial part of the underworld and there's no telling what kind of real-world dangers that entails.

I shake off the counterproductive thought. It's not like I can do anything about it, anyway.

He stopped calling, which is what I wanted, but there's no reassurance there, either.

When there's still no sign of him all day Friday, I give up trying to convince myself I'm not stressed. That would be an understatement. I hate myself for it, but I am freaking out a little, and it's to the point where I'm actually considering the suicide move of asking Kayleigh if she's heard from him just so I can get some sleep.

That would completely undo all my attempts to convince her there’s nothing between us, though.

And there's not.

Nothing that would threaten their relationship, whatever underhanded purpose he has in carrying it on.

Hell, for all I know, she and I are just two of many. He could have a secret girlfriend in every major family at Bainbridge, and it really wouldn't surprise me. He's probably the only person who could pull off that level of subterfuge. It would be impressive if it wasn't so screwed up.

Work is even crazier on the weekend, which is kind of a relief. I can use all the distractions I can get, and Anthony has been too busy with fraternity stuff to hang out much.

At least there is one benefit to being crazy busy, and it's that all the drunk patrons coming in to celebrate the weekend are generous tippers. By the end of Sunday night, I've made more over the weekend than I did all last week combined.

Maybe I will be able to get the hell out of here sooner than later. That would be a huge silver lining to the fact that my days are pure chaos.

I'm so exhausted by the time Monday morning comes around that I’m considering playing hooky, and I want to believe the only reason I don't is to avoid arousing any suspicion about my extracurricular activities. Not because I want to know if Lorenzo is there or anything.

And yet, when I walk into class Monday morning, I find myself immediately looking toward his seat.

The fact that he's actually there comes as a shock, even if I was secretly hoping that would be the case.

His eyes meet mine for a split second, even as the guy he's sitting next to continues with whatever it is he's saying. My heart stops beating and time seems to freeze as I stand there just as still, staring at him like an idiot.

A thousand thoughts are racing through my head, all contradictory and each one more irrational than the next.

Lorenzo is here.

Lorenzo is back.

He is safe and, by all appearances, none the worse for the wear. I could forgive myself for being relieved, but hurt?

That's what makes no damn sense.

So he disappeared for an entire week without so much as a word to let me know he was alive. And why the hell would he do that, anyway? I made it damn clear I didn't want anything to do with him. Hell, I threatened him to that end.

It's completely and utterly irrational to feel this way, and yet…

I brush the absurdity of my thoughts aside, and I wish I could say I do that before he looks away, but I can't. He just goes back to his conversation like nothing happened.

And I guess nothing of note has.

I take my seat as class begins, but I can't even manage to pretend like I'm paying attention this time. My thoughts are racing a mile a minute, but I can't grab a hold of any of them. Eventually, I give up on even trying.

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