Yom stormed toward the pinned boy, ready to, as his American friends often said, “choose violence.”
“Yom, don’t!”
Suddenly, someone was in front of him, pushing against his chest.
“Wow, it’s like trying to stop a moving stone wall!” a strained voice said, then pleaded, “Please stop. I really don’t want to get run over on top of being attacked with soda today.”
Yom came to a standstill, the storm clearing from his eyes when he realized it was Lydia doing the asking.
“Are you okay?” His focus shifted entirely from the frat boy to the girl in front of him. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine.” Lydia dropped her hands from his chest and glanced down at the ruined sweater he’d gifted her. “Just… damp.”
Damp. Because thatmrazhad assaulted her.
The dark storm regathered, this time in his chest. “He will pay for this.”
“Yep, yep, he totally will.” Perhaps sensing Yom’s intent to destroy the perpetrator in front of his no-longer-sniggering friends, Lydia took ahold of his arm. “And, yay, here’s security, talking to your, um… guard person. Problem solved.”
Not yet.Yom tracked Rina’s conversation with the security guard. She was probably giving the man instructions to escort the frat boy out—along with a wad of cash to ensure they’d get his address and anything else needed to hunt him down after the play-acting of releasing him to the school’s authorities was done.
“Hey, do you want to join us for lunch?”
Yom’s gaze swung back to Lydia, who was regarding him with a cheery smile. He had no doubt it was forced. It looked like the one she gave him this morning while waving him goodbye—before canceling their lunch plans with a voice text less than ten minutes later.
It didn’t matter. He would make her heed the Anything List in the future. Today was a one-off that would never be allowed again.
His eyes followed the soda thrower as he was led out, with his main personal attendant, Stepan, covertly tailing behind.
“That’s why you’re here, right?” Lydia waved a hand in his face to pull his attention back to her. “Right?”
Embarrassment seeped in, replacing the rage as Lydia waited for his answer with a confused look on her pretty face.
In actuality, he’d already eaten lunch while watching her and her friends from afar after Rina reported they’d headed to the student center from Lydia’s house.
But even he was sane enough to see how insane admitting that would sound.
“I will drive you to your volunteer shift,” Yom informed her, avoiding the question. “As I said this morning.”
“Oh, totally. Great!” The wary confusion seeped from her face. “Well, thanks for meeting me, but I actually have to run by my house first to pick up the suitcase I packed. I thought we’d be meeting there.”
“Nyet. Lunch. Then shelter. That was the Anything List agreement,” he reminded her. “Though you are already skipping lunch part.”
Yom didn’t bother hiding the accusatory note in his voice.
“Yeah, well, like I said, my friend needed me.” Lydia took a defensive step back.
“Da, you are being too nice,” Yom muttered, glancing at the friend Rina had mentioned. The lighter Black woman still sat in the booth they’d chosen for lunch—the lunch Lydia should have spent with him. “This is your fatal flaw, as you told me in Berlin.”
“Correction.” Lydia tilted her head with a wince. “My momthinksI’m too nice. But, like I also said in Berlin, I like helping people.”
“Speaking of helping, I’d love to assist here.”
The best friend, whom Yom hadn’t noticed standing just a few feet away, chose this moment to interject.
“Lyds, maybe I can finish packing your suitcase, and Yom’s friend who handled that D1 a-hole could pick it up. What was her name again?”
“Trish, seriously?” Lydia asked with a disappointed shake of her head. “I’m not going to let you do that, just so you can get your flirt?—”
