I look over my shoulder to see Everleigh and Olive holding the door open for me, not at all concerned about the strange guy coming out of the shadows so late at night. But maybe that’s because they haven’t seen him yet.
“Vi? You coming?” Olive asks over her shoulder.
I don’t know what to tell her, but suddenly it’s as if I’m being tugged in two directions. Maybe neither of them mean for it to happen that way, but it’s like I’m divided, in a bind over staying with Stranger Guy or following my sister and friend up to our safe apartment.
“Violet?” My sister’s voice rings in my ears, and I decide on telling them that I’ll be a minute since I have a visitor.
“It’s late. And dark,” she points out.
“I know, but it’s safe. I promise.”
“It really is,” Everleigh adds, backing me up. “Campus security is always circling the first couple surrounding blocks.”
“I don’t know.” Olive's gaze cuts to the side, finally catching sight of the guy who makes himself more known by taking a couple steps closer. He clears his throat, and in a low voice, she says, “I don’t like this, Vi. It’s giving me bad vibes.”
“It’s fine.”
Her tone remains low, like she doesn’t want Stranger Guy hearing her. “Do you even know him?”
“Yes, he’s, uh, Colson’s friend,” I reassure her even though I’m lying through my teeth. I don’t know Stranger Guy at all, but what I do know is that he’s connected to Colson, and it’s been far too long since I’ve heard from him. “You want to stay with me?”
She said she was tired at Lucy’s not even twenty minutes ago, so taking a walk with me after midnight isn’t at all what she’s interested in. I know her answer as soon as she looks past my head and takes in the dark sky.
“You better not be lying to me. How long are you going to be? I’ll wait up.”
“I don’t know, but I’ll be up soon.”
She sighs. “I swear to God, you better come up. If you disappear, I will beat you into a grave when the search team finds you.”
I give her a soft smile. “I love you. Be up soon.”
They give me one last glance before the door clicks shut, and I watch them disappear into the apartment building’s foyer. When they wrap around the bend in the hall where the elevators are located, I turn back to the man in the shadows illuminated by the soft glow of a cigarette.
TWENTY-FOUR
VIOLET
Stranger Guy repliesby turning on his foot and leading me to the side of the apartment complex where there are benches periodically spaced along the sidewalk.
“If you’re looking for him,” I say to his back, taking in his mysterious appearance—the dark clothing, his equally dark hair, and the abundance of black ink on the skin I can see—while also tamping down my nerves. “You won’t find him here.”
He motions to the first bench we come across. I have no plan on putting myself in a vulnerable position so I ignore the way his hand sweeps toward it and stand far enough away that I can make a quick run for it if needed. I cross my arms over my torso, too.
It’s difficult making out his features and what kind of mood he’s in when it’s so late, but there’s enough lighting around the building and parking lot to see his eyes and the shimmer of what looks like a lip ring. The long sleeve thermal he wears fits his upper body like a glove. The chilliness in the air falls away, and my body heats. Not because I find him overwhelmingly attractive but because, deep down, I get the inkling that I’m making a mistake.
If Colson felt the need to protect me from him before, I probably shouldn’t be standing outside with him alone. But I can’t walk away knowing he might have information regarding Colson.
“I didn’t come looking for him,” he says simply. “I came for you.”
Surely, he must have it wrong.
I glance toward the entrance of Spring Meadows before turning my focus back on him. “For me? What did you do? Camp outside my apartment building all night until you saw me?”
He pinches the cigarette out of his mouth and blows the smoke away from me. “I saw you leave earlier. Knew you’d come back eventually, so I waited it out.”
I curl my lips into my mouth, bothered over him openly admitting that he’s been following me. But at least he’s being honest. “Why? I don’t even know who you are.”
“It doesn’t really matter who I am?—”
