“I may have made a few extra demands, and luckily, this room had just opened up. Someone called Cynthia Farndon justtransferred out. Her father is CEO for a big pharmaceutical chain that has recently taken a financial nosedive. He is really not having a good year,” Thiago pulls an exaggerated ‘yikes’ face. I frown, looking at the room in another light.
“Cynthia has gone? But she was head of the cheer squad,” I mutter to myself. My thoughts are derailed as Thiago starts to unpack, pulling out stacks of hard drives and devices that I couldn’t even name. From the looks of it, he has more tech than clothes, and I find myself smiling again.
Sinking onto the sofa, I curl my legs up and lie my head back on the cushions, content to simply watch him. It’s surreal to see him in person, more than just a head and shoulders, more than just a smirk and a compliment. He sheds his hoodie, revealing a tightly fitted T-shirt above his sweatpants. His biceps shift every time he leans down to lift another piece of equipment, his abs pushing against the fabric. A computer nerd has absolutely no right to be this hot.
“Speak for yourself,” Thiago replies without looking my way. My cheeks set on fire, realizing I said that last part out loud. “You’re becoming quite the nerd yourself, and you’re fucking beautiful.” I’m thankful that Thiago doesn’t see the way I melt into the cushions, swooning amongst the embarrassment. In my newfound relaxed position, my eyes gently close. I’m content to simply listen to him bustling around, the scrape of cables and tugging of zips slicing through the air.
I was dreading tonight. Dreading facing the guilt of standing in Laura’s vigil, knowing I’m the one who failed her. Dreading the stares and whispers and flashing cameras. I managed to avoid it completely, but stumbled into another emotional weight I wasn’t prepared for. Now that chaos has faded and the quiet of the room wraps around me, the exhaustion crashes in. My muscles ache, my head throbs faintly, and my lids become heavier.
“Na ah, come on. You need to get comfortable first.” One of Thiago’s hands rests on my thigh, the other holding a folded T-shirt of his. I smile lazily, accepting the clothing. Pressing a kiss to my forehead, he stands and heads into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar as the shower turns on. Maybe that’s an invitation, but I barely have the energy to peel off the expensive pantsuit, tossing the fabric into a heap on the floor and replacing it with Thiago’s shirt. It smells of laundry soap and something distinctly Thiago.
This time when my lids close, it’s intentional. There’s no returning to my room tonight, not when I have the option to simply be in Thi’s presence. My breathing evens out, my limbs becoming weightless. The shower pounds a steady rhythm, images forming within my mind. Sinful images of flawless brown skin, tight muscles, water droplets, long dexterous fingers that will be skilled with more than just a keyboard. I get carried away, imagining those hands washing his body, soap suds drifting south…
Suddenly, I’m airborne, being carried by strong arms. Lowered onto the bed, I barely stir as the mattress dips behind me. Instinctively, I gravitate toward the warmth of him, the weight of Thiago’s arm settling over my waist and gently pulling me back against his chest. The steady rhythm of his breathing hums beneath my ear, calm and reassuring in a way that loosens the last of the tension in my body.
My mind goes quiet. Blissfully, wonderfully silent, except for one word that slips through my fog.Safe. I’m safe, protected, and secure as the world finally fades to black.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Morning slithers into the room slowly, pale light filtering through the curtains and stretching across the carpet until it starts to creep over the bed. For a moment, I stay still, staring at the unfamiliar walls while my brain reboots. The quiet here is different from my bedroom back home. There’s no faint hum from the servers which were constantly running, no ceiling fan spiraling overhead. It’s a wonder I managed to sleep so well, but I’ll attribute that to the warm body curled into my side.
At some point in the night, Meg rolled over to face me. She’s now sprawled halfway across my chest, one arm hooked across my ribs. Her hair is a complete mess, strands spread across the pillow and my shoulder, my T-shirt twisted around her waist.Yet it’s her face I openly stare at. Dark lashes against her cheeks, her brows relaxed and lips slightly parted. She’s so peaceful, a state I’m desperate not to disturb.
Easing myself out from beneath her as carefully as possible, I slide a pillow into the vacated space. Meg shifts, taking the offered pillow and hugging it to her chest. Once free, I cross the room and wake the monitors sitting on my desk. The IT department did a good job at fulfilling my requests, providing a coffee machine, dual screen computer, a network booster and the promise of equipment upgrades every six months.
The screens flicker to life, bathing the suite in cool blue light, and Hollowbrook’s student portal pops up immediately. I type in the login details I was provided, poking around out of curiosity, scanning schedules and message boards while my brain slowly comes online. I open the student forum, my hand twitching to power up that coffee machine but not wanting to wake Meg prematurely. Leaning on my fist instead, I click the top pinned thread.
Vigil for Laura Hopkins
I frown slightly, leaning closer to the screen.Laura Hopkins?The thread opens to a wall of photos from a ceremony that apparently happened last night. A floral archway, candles, a crowd of students gathered beneath strings of lights. My stomach tightens as I scroll further, glancing over the comments listed underneath.
She was an idiot for going to the Calloway party. Nothing good ever happens there.
Another girl missing from this campus??? Are we cursed or just stupid?
First Meg O’Connor, now this?
My fingers pause on the keyboard, confusion sinking in. I’ve clearly missed something. Grabbing my phone, I do a quicksearch on Laura whilst simultaneously scrolling through more comments on the monitor.
Didn’t Meg take her to the party? Great girl code – not.
Convenient she’s back and someone else gets grabbed. #PreplannedSwap
Maybe Meg finished what he started. She’s clearly not in her right mind.
A slow, cold realization of what Meg has been facing here spreads through my chest. I sit back in the chair, reading through the article on my phone more carefully. Meg told me she’s been through hell, but I figured it was from usual campus bullshit.
Fuck, this is why I don’t switch off my screens. This is why I can’t step out of surveillance mode. I shifted my focus instead of checking in on Meg, following the advice of a stupid fucking cat. Miss Lola worked her feline psychic mind powers on me and said Meg needed time, that she would be okay while I sorted myself out. Yet, this all happened while I was busy crossing three states and hacking admissions.
Leaning back, I rub a hand over my face. “Jesus, Meg,” I mutter quietly. Behind me, the bed rustles. I glance over my shoulder, watching the shift beneath the blankets, an arm blindly reaching across the mattress before she realizes the space beside her is empty. Meg’s eyes blink open, still hazy with sleep as they land on me across the room.
“You’re up early,” she murmurs. Her voice is rough with sleep, her bones cracking as she stretches. I swivel slightly in the chair.
“You didn’t tell me about Laura,” I say softly. I don’t mean to ambush her, and the blame is also on me. I should have checkedin sooner. Either way, Meg freezes mid-stretch, then she sighs and drops her arms.
“I know. I think…I just wanted a single night with you, selfishly, before it all came crashing down again.”
For a moment I don’t say anything. The tired honesty in her voice brings me out of my thoughts, and I push back from the desk, the chair rolling quietly across the floor. Meg watches me approach, her shoulders already slumping like she’s bracing herself for judgment she expects.
