My head snaps up as Merci Laurent drops his bag and slides into the seat next to me. His cropped yellow shirt is bright.
Reallybright.
I swallow past the growing lump in my throat, stomach knotting. Why is he sitting here? There are plenty of other seats in the lecture hall.
Did Connor tell him to keep an eye on me?
Merci pulls out a laptop covered in glittery stickers. One says “Bitch” in sparkly letters. He catches me lookingand grins. “Don't remember if I ever thanked you for helping get me out of that storage closet.”
“Anyone would've done it.” My gaze drifts to his hands on the laptop keyboard. “Do they still hurt? Sorry,” I say quickly, a flush climbing up my neck. “Shouldn't have asked that.”
He flexes his fingers, examining his nails. “They're fine. Mostly. Nails are growing back.”
The professor walks in, and I open a new document from my class notes template.
Merci groans. “Heard Professor Chen's a total dick about attendance. Zach literally had to drag my ass out of bed this morning.”
The lecture hall is quiet as the professor talks about consequentialism. I start typing as he explains the basics—weighing outcomes, greatest good for the greatest number.
My typing is slower than usual. I’m still not sleeping well. And who knows how long it’ll be until I rest decently again. Maybe I should get a mini recorder, make sure I don't miss anything important.
Connor’s exhausted too. And stressed. When he’s in the room, he’s constantly checking his phone. Slamming draws. Pacing. Can’t imagine what his family is putting him through.
And if I look his way, he growls or curses before throwing on his noise-cancelling Beats.
His lip is finally healing, though.
Professor Chen moves on to Kantian ethics, and I keep typing. Duty-based morality. Acting because something's right, not because of the outcome. Makes sense. Do the right thing even when it's hard.
This stuff will definitely be on an exam.
Next to me, Merci's texting on his phone, not paying attention at all. His choice, I guess.
When class finally ends, I save my notes and start packing up my stuff. Merci's doing the same.
“Come to lunch with me and Eli,” he says, shoving his laptop into his bag. “Look, I know about the whole forced marriage bullshit. Figured you could use someone to talk to who might understand.”
I freeze, mouth hanging open.
He rolls his eyes, hand on his hip. “Just because I’m dating Zach doesn’t mean I’m oblivious to what they are. And just so you know, he kidnapped me too. But it worked out in the end.”
Knight kidnapped him?
Jesus fucking Christ.
What is wrong with my teammates?
Merci’s staring, waiting for an answer. I want to say no, throw in my earbuds, and lose myself in Joan Jett while Irun. But if Merci knows what it's like, maybe I can talk to someone without breaking Connor's rules. Maybe I don't have to handle this alone.
“Okay.”
“Good.” He slings his bag over his shoulder. “And just so we're clear, we're totally gonna shit-talk about all of them. But it stays between us. Got it?”
I nod. That I can definitely agree with.
We walk out of the building and then across campus. Still hot for September. My shirt's sticking to my back by the time we reach Crestwood University’s food court.
It's already packed, crowded, and noisy. I grab a turkey sandwich and water from the deli counter while Merci hits the grill station. We meet back up at the cashier.
