“Thank you.”
We turn to leave, and just as I reach for the door handle, I hear Winslow mutter something under her breath.
“Un-fucking-believable.”
When I glance back at her over my shoulder, she’s staring at the keys in her hand with a dark look. “Good day, Mr. Jordan. Miss Lee,” she says, without looking up.
As soon as we’re in the hall, Haven spins to face me, face scrunched up with fury.
“Seventy percent?” she whisper-shouts. “Seventyfuckingpercent?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“How?” There’s panic swimming in her blue eyes. “If he says no?—”
“He won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
I don’t. But I’m not about to admit it.
“I need to find Melissa,” Haven says suddenly. “I’m sure she won’t mind taking notes for me. I can keep up my grades without sitting through Bastian’s smug lectures.”
I nod. “If his class is canceled, she might be back at the sorority house.”
We start walking, Haven slipping her hand into mine, the other touching the butterfly pendant around her neck.
“Where the fuck is he?” Haven murmurs.
I’ve been wondering the same thing. It’s not like Rooke to disappear. He’s always watching, always there, always three steps ahead.
Except that one day I had to take his class for him.
Feels like a lot changed after that. What if he’s lying low, planning something? Some kind of…punishment?
The thought makes me want to smoke weed until I pass out.
“At least we don’t have to deal with him today.”
But Haven doesn’t sound relieved. She sounds frustrated. “I want this over with. I want to know if I’m staying or dropping out or?—“
“You’re staying.” I stop, turning to face her. “Even if he won’t let you drop his class. Even if you have to sit through every lecture. I’ll be there.”
She adjusts the strap of her tote, head tilting to one side. “You won’t be his TA anymore, Kai.”
“Don’t give a fuck. I’ll sit in the back like any other student. He can’t stop me.”
“Pretty sure he can,” she mumbles.
“Well, he won’t.”
She stares at me for a long moment, toying with the butterfly.
“We’re so fucked,” she whispers.
“Yeah.” I press my forehead to hers. “But at least it’s you and me.”
There’s a sound from the door nearest us in the hallway—quiet, deliberate. Not mechanical. Not the building settling. It sounds a hell of a lot like weight shifting from one foot to the other.
