“Yeah, she started over the summer, but it wasn’t a big deal. Just little hints here and there,” he says dismissively.
I bite my lip so I don’t say how I really feel about his confession.
West and his girlfriend McKenna got together last Valentine’s Day, so that means she started talking about getting engaged after less than six months together, and it hasn’t even been a year yet.
“But she really started pressing things when I got here after Christmas to spend time with her and her family. I didn’t really think too much of it since her sister just got engaged a few months ago, and I figured she was just feeling pressure or whatever to do the same. I thought things would quiet down when we got back to school, but her parents threw a big New Year's party and invited my family, and I guess everyone was expecting me to propose then, and I fumbled it.”
“You fumbled it?” I can’t keep the dismay out of my voice.
“Yeah. Apparently she spent the whole night waiting for me to do it, and when I didn’t, we got into a huge fight, and she accused me of stringing her along for the last three years?—”
“Three years? You haven’t even been together for a year yet,” I splutter.
“I know, but we’ve been friends for the past three years,” he says lamely.
I bite my lip so I don’t remind him that being friends with someone isn’t the same as dating them, especially since theyboth dated other people during those years of their friendship and she used him as her emotional support person to vent about her boyfriends.
It’s not my place to say anything, and even though I know this is a monumental mistake, West obviously needs someone to talk to. Bringing him down when he’s still processing things isn’t going to help anyone.
“So you guys had a fight?” I say to circle the conversation back to him getting engaged.
“Yeah, and that’s when she told me that she needs commitment and to be with someone serious about building a future together and not someone who’s just looking for some fun.”
Thank fuck we’re having this conversation over the phone and not in person, because there’s no way in hell I could keep my disbelief off my face if we were in the same room.
“I thought about what she said, and it made sense, so I talked to her sister, and she helped me pick out a ring and come up with a plan, and yeah…I’m engaged.”
“Wow. Congrats,” I say again, still too shocked to offer more.
“Thanks.” He lets out a soft laugh. “I swear my phone hasn’t stopped blowing up since we posted it, but I figured you were ignoring social media the way you like to do when I didn’t see you like or comment on any of them.”
“Yeah, I haven’t looked at anything for the past few days,” I tell him. “RIP to your notifications.”
He laughs. “Say less.” There’s a pause. “I gotta go get ready for something,” he says distractedly.
“Later.”
“Bye.”
The call ends, and I shake my head as I open Instagram. I go to McKenna’s profile first and check her stories. Photo after photo of her, and a few of her and West, all with her ringprominently featured in them, scroll by on my screen, and I stop watching after the first dozen. She’s also made multiple posts that are just the same photos from her stories with some sappy quotes under them.
I like the posts because that’s what’s expected of me, then navigate to West’s profile to do the same on the single post he made with a photo of them right after they got together and another of them kissing while the camera focuses on her giant ring. His stories are just reposts of a bunch of hers, and I heart a few of them so he knows I checked them out.
Now that my duty as a friend is over, I exit the app and toss my phone on the bed beside me.
West is a great guy, and he’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a best friend, but he’s almost too nice, and he’s easily manipulated. I have no doubt that McKenna’s family put just as much pressure on him as she did, and knowing his parents, they’re probably just as thrilled by the news as her family is, even if he’s walking around shell-shocked and confused.
My thoughts wander away from West and his news as the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I glance around my room as the sensation of being watched falls over me.
It’s insane, but I’ve had that feeling on and off since Xave left me in my hotel room last night. Jesus, was it really only last night? Has it really only been forty-eight hours since the rave?
Ignoring the prickle of unease, I lean back on my hands and focus on the music still playing as a sense of bone-deep weariness settles over me.
It’s not surprising that I’m exhausted after traveling all day and barely sleeping last night, but there’s still an underlying edge of anxiety to my fatigue that has my brain half convinced that I’m about to be snatched again, and it’s not going away even though I’m in the safest place I possibly could be right now.
Silvercrest isn’t just an elite, invite-only university. It’s also a closed campus in the middle of nowhere that’s surrounded by the best security money can buy. No one who isn’t thoroughly vetted can get anywhere near the place, and with all the cameras and swipe logs around, there’s no way anyone could sneak onto campus. Especially now, when there are only a handful of students around and a skeleton staff until the new semester starts next week. Outsiders would stand out, and even with minimal staff and students, there are still multiple levels of security going on.
And besides, even if I wasn’t safe on campus, it’s not like anyone is after me. The assholes who kidnapped me wanted money, and now most of them are dead. They had no idea who I really am, and it’s not like the surviving kidnapper is going to hunt me down since he also has no idea who I really am. It was a crime of opportunity, that’s it.
