Grey, on the other hand, watches me with a challenging expression that says he’s not taking no for an answer.
Ah, bloody hell.
I so don’t want to do this—the whispers, the wrong kind of attention of my high school days all over again. But avoidingthe situation might fuel more speculation. The only thing that’s worse than going is not going—a lesson learned from my highschool years as well.
“Fine,” I relent, my sigh heavy with resignation as I grab my backpack. “But remember where youbuying melunch has brought us? I’ll pick my own this time.”
Oliver snickers at my comment, and even Grey’s lips twitch into a smirk.
That wasn’t supposed to be funny.
“All right, as long as you come with,” Misha agrees cheerfully, stepping to the side to let me step out in the hallway with them.
Grey looks pointedly at my backpack, his tone turning serious. “Did they give you a new EpiPen?”
I feel my cheeks heat up at his concern. “Yes, they did.”
Let’s just hope I won’t need this one ever.
“Good. Let’s go,” Grey commands, leading the way as I follow, my mind racing.
Maybe it won’t be so bad.
Maybe I can handle this after all.
We pass the cylindrical aquarium in the hallway near my office with the nine-hundred-ninety-six siblings of the four neon tetras I’ve rehomed in my apartment.
Behind me, Misha’s voice breaks the silence that hung between us. “Oh, look, Amelia, they’re the same kind of fish you have. Just a lot more of them.”
I stiffen at his words, a chill running down my spine.
Did he connect the dots?
Turning slightly, I catch Oliver giving Misha a sharp elbow to the ribs. Misha winces, then chuckles, a glint of mischief in his eyes when he meets my gaze.
Dammit.
Without halting my stride to the lift, I manage a cool, “I noticed.”
I really should get to it, grabbing some more. Or this will take years.
IfOMGhave pieced together where my new-finned friends are from, I need to accelerate my efforts.
They might rat me out before I’ve managed to save enough of them.
How many are enough?
All of them.
The elevator ride is filled with silence once more, and I feel all their gazes on me as I’m standing in front of them.
Why did I agree to this?
We arrive downstairs, navigating through the bustling cafeteria, each veering off to select our lunch. Grey and I head to the vegetarian section, where he picks a quinoa salad brimming with roasted veggies while I opt for a spinach and goat cheese wrap, diligently checking the ingredients list.
Fool me once and all that.
Grey nudges me aside with his shoulder to peer at the list himself, making me glare at him and mutter, “You don’t have to do that. I’ve survived twenty-five years without a food checker.”
