Not that he wouldn’t deserve it.
I sit up abruptly at the knock on my door and hate myself a little for the sudden surge of hope rising in me. I stare at it—or at my reflection in the mirror against it—and hate myself a little more when I notice the puffy eyes, a clear sign of my pathetic disappointment. I didn’t even notice that I might have been crying.
Someone knocks again, a little louder, and I jump to my feet. Have I been staring for long? It only takes a couple of steps before I reach the door and pull it open just enough to peer outside.
Hm… Wait, what?
“Nate?” I ask, frowning in confusion. “What—what are you doing here?”
I pull open the door a little bit more and look around the hallway. Girls are standing outside their rooms, talking to each other, their eyes fixed on him.
Vultures.
“Are you going to let me in?” He asks back with an annoyed grunt,casting quick glances around to the adoring female population staring at him.
“Hum… Are you here to see Sonja? Because she left early this morning for the winter break and…”
“Prudence, can you please let me in? I’ll explain, but not in this damn hallway while everyone is staring at us.”
He looks uncomfortable. I would have thought he’d be happy being the center of attention, surrounded by a whole hallway of women he probably hasn’t seduced yet.
I step aside to let him in and close the door after him, catching another glimpse of my reflection on that stupid mirror—definitely going to take it off the door, I can’t stand to look at my face anymore.
He stands in the middle of the room, hands in his pocket, taking in the space around him, and I feel suddenly vulnerable. A lot of my drawings are hung haphazardly on the wall above my desk and my bed, and my side, even though it’s clean, is filled with my creative clutter and opened artbooks.
“As I told you, Sonja is not here and—”
“Where should I stand?”
“Excuse me?” I frown.
He turns abruptly to stare at me with his impossibly blue eyes, his hands reaching the hem of his shirt, and before I know it, he’s standing shirtless in front of me, his tee-shirt a ball in his fist.
And I’m gaping. Like a schoolgirl.
“So you can draw. Where do you want me to stand?”
“I’m sorry but—wait, what? What are you doing?” I ask, shaking my head in disbelief.
He rolls his eyes with an annoyed sigh. “I’m stepping in. Weren’t you supposed to meet with Jerkwood? So you could practice drawing? Or was it like an excuse to—”
“No, no, I was, but—”
“He’s not coming,” he interrupts. “Don’t ask me how I know, and just accept the replacement.”
But how does he know?
Has Jason told people about that gullible first year he stood up? About how she believed him and he probably had a blast making fun of all of that?
Is Nate here out ofpityfor his best friend’s little sister?
How. Fucking. Amazing.
“Come on, let’s get to work,” Nate says, clapping his hands once before locking them together in front of him. “Where do I stand? Do you need me to do something or… I don’t know, just stand here? Sit somewhere? Prudence, you’re gonna have to lead me through this, I have no idea what I’m doing here and you’re just—frozen… Prudence?”
“I—I don’t,” I stutter, finally taking him in. He’s shirtless. In my room. If someone comes in, they are going to assume that… “It’s alright, Nate. You really don’t have to do this.” I sigh, turning around to go back to the door. If he leaves now, maybe the vultures won’t come after me.
His hand wraps around my wrist before I can reach the handle and I freeze again, turning my face just enough to stare at it.
