“Holy fuck! That chick is on her rag!”
I pause as the loud voice booms through the mess hall, and one look at Talia tells me everything I need to know—he’s talking about me. I have no doubt the color of my face matches the stain on the back of my jeans, and even if I tried, I couldn’t move. I’m rooted to the spot, mortification coursing through every inch of me. I close my eyes, hoping if I do, I’ll wake up and this will have been just a bad dream, but when I open them again, I’m still standing in the middle of the lunchroom witheveryonestaring and laughing.
Suddenly, two tattooed arms circle my waist.
“I’ve got you, Clover,” Callum says into my ear. “I’ve got you.”
“I-I-I—” I sputter. “What are you doing?”
But I know what he’s doing. He’s tying a shirt—the very flannel he was just wearing—around my waist.
“Come on,” he says, softly nudging me forward. “Just walk. Ignore them.”
But putting one foot in front of the other is damn hard to do when all you can hear is laughter and all you can see are people pointing and judging you. Somehow, I do it anyway, hurrying out of the mess hall as fast as I can, not even bothering to look back when Talia marches past me, and I hear the unmistakablesound of someone being slapped and an uttered, “You’re going to pay for that, bitch.”
I don’t stop for any of it. I just keep going, Callum behind me every step of the way, his hand resting on the small of my back as my heart beats harder than it ever has before. I swear all the blood left in my body iswhoosh, whoosh, whooshingin my head and ears.
“Almost there,” he says through the noise as we pick up our pace. “Just keep going.”
We burst through the double doors, and I gasp out a breath for the first time in what seems like forever. Then I fall. I expect to hit the ground at any moment, but I never do. Those same arms that tied the shirt around my waist are now wrapped around me as we slide against the wall to the floor, tears now streaming down my face.
When the hell did I start crying?
It doesn’t matter. I just stood up in front of the whole lunchroom with a giant blood stain on my pants, andeveryonesaw it. How could they not, with how loud Shawn yelled?
“Shh,” Callum whispers. “Try to breathe for me, all right? Breathe.”
His words have the desired effect, calming me enough that I can gulp in another breath. I do it again, over and over until I’m no longer struggling.
“That’s it,” he says. “Give me another one.”
I do, then another. Slowly, I come out of the haze, blinking hard against the bright white lights of the hallway, and the first thing I see is the most gorgeous shade of golden yellow.
“Callum.”
He grins, but it’s not his usual self-assured smile. It’s sweet. Soft, even. And perhaps a little worried.
“Hey, Clover.”
For the first time, I don’t completely hate the silly nickname he’s given me. I might even kind of love it.
Still, I find myself saying, “My name is Chloe.”
He chuckles lightly, and it sounds familiar, like he always does—arrogant.
“Sure it is.” He sweeps a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “Whatever you say, Clover.”
I want to be annoyed. I want to tell him to go away. But none of that happens. I just sit there, staring up at him like he’s not infuriating and I’m not still absolutely humiliated by what just happened.
He lets me. He doesn’t rush me or ask for his shirt back. He simply sits, holding my face in his hands, watching me closely, like he’s afraid I’m going to break.
I have no idea where Talia went. I assume back to our room after she saw me with Callum, but honestly, I’m in no hurry to find her right now. I’m still trying to get my bearings straight.
“Why did you do that?” I ask when I trust myself enough to speak.
He tips his head to the side. “Do what?”
“Come to my rescue. Give me your shirt.” I laugh quietly, the whooshing in my ears finally subsiding. “Ugh, I don’t know. Why are you sitting on the dirty floor with me? Why are you beingnice? And why are you looking at me like that?”
