Page 24 of Cruel Abandon (Fallen Royals 5)
“I apologized,” I say in a low voice. “Remember?”
“You know what remembers everything to ever happen? The fucking internet.”
Oh, how I’d love to hit him.
The professor—and Mitch—may frown on that, though. Although no one blinks an eye at Liam’s violence. He wasn’t even asked to leave school. Or, if they did, he didn’t listen. He went home at the height of craziness, but he returned a month later like nothing happened.
Except…
Things weren’t bad while he was gone. I kept my head down, ignored the whispers, and did my work. Classes, meals, and back to my room. I was the definition of low profile.
Everything changed when Liam came back. The hate grew.
Maybe it just took a month for students to realize Howl wasn’t coming back, and that’s when they directed their anger at the person who had managed to silence it.
Me.
I slide into my seat and ignore Mitch and Liam.
Because you know what? Fuck them.
8
Sky
I slip into my apartment and lock the door. I only have about an hour before I have to go back to campus, but the temperature is dropping. By the time my long class gets out later tonight, I’ll be frozen.
My finger hovers over the alarm keycode.
It’s off…
“Whitney?” I call, dropping my bag by the door. I toe off my shoes, too. I’m not exactly sure what I would do if an intruder was in my apartment, but sneaking up on them seems like a better idea than announcing myself.
She doesn’t answer… probably because she’s not here. She has three classes back-to-back today, and I’ve never known her to willingly miss one just to sit at home.
The kitchen is dark and empty, and the living room is likewise silent.
Goosebumps crawl up my arms. I turn down the hall to our bedrooms. Her door is shut. I creep past it and crack my door open.
Someone stands at my desk, their back to me.
The door creaks on opening, and I suppress a groan.
Liam sets down my notebook and turns around, sticking his hands in his pockets.
We regard each other.
Finally, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
My gaze jumps to the window. Maybe I can shove him out of it—the three-story drop wouldn’t kill him, but it would send the right sort of message. That message being: stay out of my damn apartment.
“I came to see if you were okay,” he says.
I almost believe it.
Instead, I move away from the door. The room is a mess, clothes draped over the cushioned chair I had bought on a whim for reading. Plants are squashed together on my windowsill… I guess Liam’s fall would take them out, and I can’t have that.
I resist the urge to pick up. Who knows how long he’s even been here, anyway.