Page 342 of Mad Girl

It wasn’t until later, as I lay in bed all alone, replaying Sienna’s visit, that the most glaring question of all hit me, and I couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been for failing to ask.

What the hell did Sienna plan on doing with that picture of me?

A few days later, Hal accompanied me to the park. We drank hot chocolate, fed the squirrels, and bemoaned the lack of sunlight all week. He asked if I wanted to talk about it—whatever had caused me to be grumpier than usual—and I said no. When he dropped me off at the house, I found Michael walking from his parents’ place to mine.

“What are you doing here?”

Michael tossed his arm around my shoulders. “Casey asked me to come over.”

“Really? Why?”

Michael shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

Inside, I expected to find you at the kitchen island working on your homework—or prepping your kettle for tea—but when we walked through the back door, you were nowhere to be seen.

Instead, we found some strange guy leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone. Extremely handsome. Black hair cropped close to his scalp. Warm brown skin. Dark eyes. Full lips.

This stranger bore a striking resemblance to the actor who played the duke in some historical romance series Tinsley loved. If she’d been there to see this guy for herself, she would’ve freaked—and probably asked for a selfie.

Michael walked directly up to the stranger and gave him one of those slap-handshakes you guys give each other. “Hey, man,” he said, prompting the guy to reveal a set of perfect white teeth. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Hot Guy had an English accent. Just like yours.

“Hi, there,” I said, walking up to him with a faux smile. “I’m Elliot. This is my house. Can I help you with something?”

Hot Guy blinked at me. “I take it you aren’t the sister, then?” When I didn’t say anything, he added, “Forgive me. Casey mentioned a sister, and I just—I assumed you’d be English, too.”

“Definitely not his sister,” I said. “Who the hell are you?”

“You have to excuse her,” Michael said. “She’s a little, um”—he laughed, rubbing a hand over his chin—“she doesn’t take well to strangers.”

Hot Guy dragged his gaze away from Michael and looked at me. “That’s…quite alright. I’m Nate. I’ve got a class with Casey, and we’re heading to a party off campus. I’m just waiting on him to finish freshening up. Didn’t mean to intrude…”

“You’re not intruding on anything, man,” Michael said. “She’s just like this.”

That’s when you breezed in, Casey, looking fresh alright. Freshly shaved. Freshly showered, hair still damp at the nape of your neck. You wore a snug cream sweater with a pair of black pants that were snug, too, in all the right places.

You glanced at me. “Oh, hey. You’re home.” To Michael, you said, “Listen, Nic had to take a last-minute trip out of town. Do you mind staying with Elliot until I get back? Unless you’ve made other plans…?”

“No plans,” Michael said. “I’ll stay with her. It’s no problem.”

You looked my way again as you slipped into a camel coat. “Shall I make your tea before I go?”

“I can make my own tea, Casey. I’m not a child.”

As Nate glanced between the three of us with his dark eyes narrowed, I could see him trying to work it out: the mysterious living arrangement, the strange nature of our relationship, why anyone should have to stay with me.

“Right,” you said, draping a brown houndstooth scarf around your neck. “Well, dinner’s in the fridge. I’ll see you two later.”

You strolled over to the back door while Nate hung back to give Michael one final handshake. “Nice seeing you, mate.” Little nod at me. “Elliot, pleasure to meet you.”

I shot this hot Nate character a death glare. Michael nudged me in the arm. “Sure,” I said. “Bye now.”

Nate chuckled to himself as he backed toward the door, which you held open for him.

When you were gone, I turned to Michael. “You know that guy?”

“Yeah. We had a class together last year. Why were you being a bitch to him?”