Is he closer? I think he’s closer. OramI closer?
He has a faint scar below his left eye.
His bottom lip is also fuller than his top one, I wonder if someone’s told him that before.
“Will you come?”
My eyes snap up to meet his, confusion filtering my whole body before I realize. “Well, there’ll be free food and music and good vibes, so you can count me in!” I cringe back at my excessive cheeriness and mentally scold myself for it.
Dean—Mr. Vuk,dammit—clenches his jaw. Oh god, he’s mad. He’s pissed. He hates me.
“I appreciate it,” he gruffs out thickly.
Neither of us move or say goodbye.
Physical chemistry sizzles, hyphenates the exhaustion of our individual selves and turns it into something tangible.
It’s only when we hear a knock that we stamper apart.
I’m silently gasping for air because what the hell iswrongwith me?
I mutter a quick goodbye, dragging my body out the door and when Gregory says something about the computer hating him, I don’t listen because I’m too busy pressing a hand over my chest and waiting for the uneven breaths to pass.
CHAPTER 4
It smells like dog piss.
I push open the manual doors of the elevator and walk on the dingy orange carpet.
In the middle of the hallway, there’s an orange overhead light that flickers on and off.
Sunny and Azar keep telling me to move but that’s easier to say when you don’t make over the average annual income in Canada. I am below it. So below that you can’t see me under the surface. I am in the pits of the ocean, making friends with unidentifiable creatures and calling them my forever andever’s.
Note, the unidentifiable creatures are about to make a quick cameo (permanent actors in my life).
Seven boxes tower next to myOnly Fictional MenAllowedmat.
My usual excitement’s thrown out the window since Ms. Cartwright decided she was going to sue me for thievery.
The back of my head pounds.
I dig my back pocket for my keys, all while hiking up the large basket under my left arm.
The door next to mine opens the second I insert the key.
The hippie walks out—Dylan, I’ve learned his name—with that weird dog of his that always has his tongue sticking out. His pants run low on his legs, showing grey boxers and…okaayyy. Looking back up, looking away, and pretending I never saw—what? What did I see?You didn’t see anything.
He stops next to me, his body abhorrently too close to me, but that’s okay because at least he’s not actually touching me. I turn my head subtly and give him my famous Nova smiles. “Hi?”
He nods like he approves then points at the boxes, “Sick.”
Did he mean sick as in cool or sick as in I need help?
I’m left staring as he walks away, and I honestly wish I didn’t because his butt crack is on full display.
Unlocking my door with flash speed—big mistake—the door stumbles open and down goes the thunderous towers of books on the other side. The domino starting behind my door and all the way around my living room couch, all come to a crashing thump.
I do the most logical thing I can think of.
