I opened my mouth to protest, but he covered it with one hand while raising his index finger against his lips. His eyes begged for silence and stillness. I shook my head, confused about why one moment he was Mr. Cool, Calm and Collected and the next, a carbon copy of me, anxious and frantic.
“I know you’re in here,” the security guard called. His tone was clipped now, undoubtedly on his last thread of patience after having to police college students late at night. “Come out now and there won’t be any consequences.”
I wrinkled my eyebrows at Weston, showing I thought it was a good idea. He shook his head but removed his hand from my mouth.
“We can’t get caught,” he told me. His voice was so low I could barely hear it.
“We’re not getting in trouble,” I replied in a hushed tone. A tone that wasn’t quiet enough, I suppose, because Weston motioned his hand up and down for me to lower my volume. I watched him peek out from the shelves to see how far the guard traveled. Footsteps were faint now, heading in the opposite direction of where we hid.
“I’m kind of on thin ice with the Dean,” Weston said when he turned back to me. “Like, see-through, cracked, barely frozen ice.”
I gave him a once over. “What did you do?”
He peeked out again and then turned back to me. He looked hesitant before saying, “Someone gave me a name.”
I was confused, but then realized he was referencing our conversation from before. “A name?”
He nodded with a neutral expression. “And I took care of it.”
Chapter 6
I staredat Weston as he leaned over to check if the coast was clear.
He took care of it? How? And for who?
“Give it a few minutes and he’ll give up,” Weston told me as he pulled out his phone. “But, just in case we need back up…”
I watched him pull up his messages and quickly clicked a contact by the name of ‘Back-Up’. “Are you joking?”
“What?” He looked confused as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.
I gestured my hand at his screen. “You can text someone for back-up on a whim? On a Friday night?”
“I scratch backs, Covee.” His lips formed a straight line but there was amusement in his eyes.
I snorted. He held his finger to his lips, reminding me we were in hiding. My head leaned back against the books as I tried to gather my wits.
“Is that what you were trying to do before?” I asked, resuming my hushed tone. “Scratch my back and one day, get a favor in return?”
“What we were about to do wasn’t me scratching your back,” he promised in a serious tone. I cursed myself silently for feeling warm and ready to bury my face in his shirt. “I wasn’t looking for a favor. I just wanted to make you feel good.”
My heart sped up. I could barely swallow as I tried to process this information. “Fine. Our… situation aside. Does scratching backs mean you’re some serial blackmailer?”
“I think I heard the elevator,” he said, leaning back out to look into the aisle that was almost pitch black without the security guard’s flashlight.
“Don’t change the subject,” I ordered while tugging on his backpack, hoping to get him to focus on my question. I didn’t have enough courage to cling to his arm even though it was in reach.
Weston laughed a little. “What subject? I think you and I almost getting caught in a restricted area by the campus police is on-topic enough.”
“You know what I mean,” I said, but then positioned myself on my hands and knees to join him in peeking around the corner. I saw nothing either. And from what I understood about campus police, they didn’t really give a damn after a certain point.
“Every interaction is an exchange of some sort.” Weston pushed himself off the ground.
I ignored the hand he offered and scrambled to my feet on my own. Weston chuckled and motioned for me to go first. When I refused to move, he took a hint and led the way.
“I’m such an idiot,” I mumbled as I followed him.
He stopped and turned to me. “Why do you say that?”
