I narrowed my eyes at her. “No, I meanLydia Carrington. Why would you call her that? Why would you call anyone that?”
The MRS major snorted and shifted back around to start texting on her phone.
I turned back to Dennika. “What’s going on?”
“Girl, you know I don’t like to kick anybody’s back in, but…” Dennika looked around, then leaned in to whisper, “Turns out Lydia’s been stalking Yum Rustanov!”
My eyebrows shot up. “The super blessed-in-the-face hockey player?”
“Yeah, girl. I know he’s fine, but Lydia took it to a whole new level!” Dennika bugged her eyes. “Hooked up with him while they were both in Berlin. Then, when he started ignoring her, she tried everything to get his attention. She came on to his teammate, reserved the carrel right next to his at the library, showed up at the student center every time he tried to eat there. I mean, she ain’t boiled no bunnies yet, but folks are waiting.”
“Lydia?” I repeated, totally not believing it. “Sweet Lydia, who goes out of her way to help everybody, is stalking Yum Rustanov?”
“It’s always the sweet ones you gotta watch out for,” Dennika assured me with a twist of her lips. “But Yum blew up her spot sobad, I wouldn’t be surprised if she dropped out. I know I would if I got caught stalking somebody like that….”
Dennika suddenly trailed off, her mouth falling open. And all the noise dropped out of the room, like everyone had decided to stop talking at the same time.
I turned to see what had caught her—and everyone else’s—attention. Then my mouth dropped open, too.
Lydia was walking into the lecture hall... hand in hand... with Artyom “Yum” Rustanov!
And it did not look like she was stalking him.
In fact, Yum’s other hand was curled over the hook of a sleek, black Porsche business backpack. I recognized it as the bag Lydia decided to buy for herself when she saw the one my German boyfriend had gifted me while I was visiting her in Berlin.
A dark cloud rolled in when I thought of how sad I’d been about not being able to introduce her to him. Stupid. I was so stupid.
“Merry? Is that you?” Lydia’s voice brought me out of my miserable thoughts. She took her hand and her bag back from Yum Rustanov and jogged down the stairs to pull me into a hug. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi, Lydia…” I answered, flaring my eyes at Dennika over my friend’s shoulder, like,What the hell???
Dennika just shook her head at me, wide-eyed and apologetic, but also like she was eating popcorn while watching a juicy reality show.
As desperately as I needed Lydia’s help, I had to pull back from the hug and ask, “What’s going on?” I glanced toward the ridiculously hot hockey player, who was still standing at the top of the stairs, like some kind of guard.
Lydia visibly winced and whispered, “Um, long story. Like, super-long story.”
She then waved over her shoulder at the hockey player she was supposedly stalking and called out in a much louder voice, “See you at lunch, Art—I mean, Yom.”
Yom glanced from her to me with a suspicious scowl. But then he appeared to make a reluctant decision to walk away.
“Anyway, what are you doing back so soon?” Lydia asked, as if my return was the biggest unexpected shock of the morning. “I thought you were supposed to be in Germany for the rest of the year!”
“Even longer story.” With an uneasy glance toward Dennika and several other students who were openly staring at us, I lowered my voice to ask, “Can I crash on your couch? Just until I get everything sorted out with the registrar and find a work-study job? I tried to come by last night and ask, but nobody answered the door.”
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” Lydia took hold of my hand with a sympathetic look that made me feel like an even more pitiful mess. It was hard to believe we’d met because she needed someone to both take and record their notes for our Introduction to Public Health class. Who desperately needed who now?
“You can stay at my place as long as you want, but…” Lydia’s eyebrows clenched with worry. “Is your mom okay?”
Of course, she’d be worried about my mother.
“She’s fine,” I assured her. Physically, at least. I mean, she clearly wasn’t handling my decision to track down my birth father well—hence, my suddenly homeless status.
But that wasn’t exactly a story to tell in front of her entire Animal Behavior class.
Lydia must have sensed that. “Wanna meet for lunch to swap stories and get you moved into my place?”
“I thought you had lunch plans?” I asked.
