Bright. Dim.
Bright. Dim.
“We should go,” Sorren says.
I’m already moving. We make it to the door in a slow, staggering shuffle. Halfway there, his weight suddenly doubles and I nearly go down with him.
“Sorren,” I hiss, tightening my grip.
He doesn’t answer. His head lolls toward mine.
Fantastic. Love that for me.
I brace us both and crack open the door. The hallway is clear. Unfortunately, the real problem isn’t the hallway.
It’s the front office.
The front office that’s staffed by three women who know everything about everyone and have opinions about most of it. And I’m about to walk past them with a six-foot-five stranger wearing a child’s literacy hoodie and my ex-boyfriend’s sweatpants.
This is fine.
Everything is fine.
We round the corner, and Mrs. Delgado looks up from her computer. Her gaze lands on Sorren. Then slowly tracks down the length of him. Then back up again.
“Well,” she says.
Beside her, Linda’s eyes go wide. “Oh my.”
Margaret jerks upright to see what the commotion is about. Her mouth drops open, and a strangled sound escapes.
Sorren shifts against me, his grip tightening at my shoulder, his body going tense as if he’s bracing for attack.
Seth stands by the copy machine.
He turns and freezes.
His eyes land on me. Then on Sorren. Then on Sorren’s arm slung around my shoulders. Then on the READING IS FUN! hoodie stretched across approximately 4 percent of his torso. Then…on the sweatpants.
“Nora?” he says faintly.
He squints.
“Wait,” he says slowly. “Are those my pants?”
“Uh…” I clear my throat. “Hi, Seth.”
“Who’s this?” Seth asks, frowning, pointing at Sorren.
Sorren straightens beside me, drawing up to his full height, even as he sways.
“I am Sorren Valdren—”
“My friend,” I cut in quickly, before he can start talking about the White Warren and his murderous uncle.
“—her protector,” Sorren finishes anyway, sending Seth a glare so full of fire I can practically see it crackle across the room.
Seth pales.
