Chapter Seven

I spend two hours being questioned at the campus police department. It should have taken about thirty minutes, but at some point the cop has to leave the room, and I end up sitting by myself for a long time.

It's only in the last ten minutes of my interview that I learn why I'm here.

"Have you ever bought stimulants from anyone on campus?" the cop asks when he returns. I've finished the bottle of water and two cups of coffee they gave me, and now I have to pee, like, really badly. It makes it a little hard to focus.

"No. I don't even know what that is."

After that I get a lengthy explanation, and—plot twist—he just meant Adderall.

"Have you ever sold any drugs to anyone you know—your friends, your classmates, or people you've met on campus?" the cop asks. "Marijuana, ecstasy, cocaine?"

"Cocaine?"I bleat. "What is this, the eighties? No—seriously—I've never even done drugs! Not even pot! I know that sounds like a lie, but like, it's kind of embarrassing, so—no, I'm not selling drugs. Did someone name me?" I stop, going slack with understanding. "Oh my god. Did Three do this? Did he tell you I had drugs?"

The cop makes a note. "Three? Who's that?"

"He's—he's just a guy I've been…"

"Dating? Bad breakup?"

"No, oh my god. I shouldn't have even mentioned him."

The cop looks up from his notepad. "Why's that?"

"I'm just—I'm confused why I'm here. Because I'm not doing or selling drugs. I wouldn't even know where to find drugs. Where are you getting this from?"

"Were you aware that your roommate, Elizabeth Huffman, has been selling MDMA, Adderall, and cocaine on campus?"

"Ellie… what?"

They must decide after the big reveal that I couldn't possibly be a good enough actress to pull off that kind of lie.

Or at least that's what I think, until I arrive back at my dorm and find it ransacked. My drawers have been pulled open, my closet emptied, clothes piled on my floor and bed. My desk is trashed, the drawers removed completely.

I should have expected it, especially when the resident director accompanied me in to pack a bag. I'll be staying on a cot in Dara and Madison's room for the night while they get Ellie moved out, and the RD is adamant that we are not allowed to speak to her when she returns.

"My parents are freaking out," Madison says as she, Dara, and I make our way to a table in the dining hall that evening. I've barely eaten all day, and I'm irritable and hazy from lack of food.

"Mine too," says Dara. I feel her hesitant look. "Have you talked to yours?"

"Not yet." I twirl an unappetizing bite of pasta on my fork. "They're at work."

But even knowing my parents won't see any of my messages until late this evening, when the Renaissance Faire is over for the day, I check my texts again just in case.

Nothing from them, but I do have a notification from Buckonnect.

hayes6834:am I the only person in the world who didn't read the outsiders in middle school?

hayes6834:anyway I looked him up and idk if I want to be compared to rob lowe. that's my mom's celebrity crush.

I can't help my sigh of relief. Ellie is going to be all anyone asks me about for at least the next week. It's nice to know I have someone I can turn to if I need to talk about nothing at all.

pomerene1765:she sounds like a woman of taste

pomerene1765:we probably shouldn't share our costumes anyway. flying a little too close to the sun.

hayes6834:you mean you aren't dying to know who I am?

pomerene1765:no I am. but I think I like it better this way

"We can help you clean up tomorrow," Dara says, drawing my attention back to her and Madison. "When they let you back in your room."

I exhale, finally finding a smile of my own. "Thanks. It was a total war zone in there."

Madison leans in, lowering her voice. "So, neither of you knew about Ellie? I knew she smoked weed, but I had no idea she was selling anything."

"Nope," Dara says. "But I will be holding a grudge that she never offered me any."

I nearly choke. Smacking my hand against my chest, I croak, "She was selling hard drugs!"

The table next to ours goes quiet, a few of them looking in our direction.

Madison flushes, shoveling a bite of her salad into her mouth.

Dara shrugs. "I'm just saying it would've been nice of her to offer. I didn't mean I wanted to try anything. But for real, she thought the three of us were such dorks, she never even asked? So rude."

That evening, our RA stops by Dara and Madison's room to let me know I'll be allowed back into mine by tomorrow afternoon. Dara is in the middle of a lengthy explanation about Proper Southern Ladies: Baton Rouge as we watch on her laptop, while Madison is on a video call with her parents, discussing her father's sermon for tomorrow morning's worship service.

I should call my own parents, but when they tried me earlier, I texted them and asked to talk tomorrow instead, feigning exhaustion. So far today, I've spoken to the police, my suitemates, my RA, and the resident director. I'm all talked out for now. And nothing I tell my parents will change anything. It's not like they'd pull me out of school or demand a new room. They aren't those types of parents, and anyway, Ellie is gone. The damage is already done.

With nothing else to do, and seeking a little reprieve from Dara and Madison's company, I leave to wander campus, hoping to clear my head.

As I exit the elevator, Lincoln steps through the front door, grinning when he sees me.

"Oh, hey," I say at the same time he blurts, "Hi!"

He adjusts his bag on his shoulder as he crosses the lobby to me. "How're you doing? I heard you can go back in your room soon."

I swallow. Of course Lincoln knows about Ellie. He probably knew before I did. "Yeah, I think tomorrow morning. I'm waiting for someone to give me the okay."

"Whenever she moves her stuff out, the RD will do one last inspection, and then you should be good."

I knew Ellie would be back in the room soon, but the thought of her moving out tomorrow, clearing away every trace of her presence, sends a pang through me like I've lost something.

"Hey, if you want something to do while you wait tomorrow, the library in the geological building opens early. I'm usually there in the morning."

I've worked in the main library since school started, but I've never been to the one in the geological museum. It's smaller, tailored more for the earth science majors.

"Do you go to that library a lot?" I ask.

Lincoln's mouth pulls up in a half smile. "Yeah. I'm in the major." At my stunned silence, he laughs. "Let me guess. You thought I was doing agriculture." He shakes his head, still smiling. "Farm Boy Lincoln strikes again."

"Farm Boy Lincoln?"

"I'm from Cleveland," he says. "My parents are teachers. But there's something about me that makes people think of—"

"Nebraska?"

He stops, gaping at me. "Yeah. It's the name, isn't it? My brother's name is Jason. I can't believe my parents did this to me."

I laugh. "My parents named me éowyn. At least yours just gives a vibe. Mine is actually a character from Lord of the Rings."

I don't know why I volunteered this information. Even if someone guesses, I don't normally admit it. It's like saying, yeah, my parents are obsessed super-freaks.

"Hey, she's pretty cool, though," Lincoln says, as though he can sense my instant regret. "éowyn. Not that it's a competition or anything, but if I had to pick a favorite female character from that series, she'd probably be it."

This is why it's nice talking to Lincoln. He's the type of person who makes it easy to volunteer information about yourself, and he wants you to feel comfortable doing it. My defenses are no match for him.

It helps that it feels like he wants to be talking to me too. That this could be something like flirting. It reminds me of the feeling I get talking to Hayes.

"Well, Tolkien doesn't give many options for favorite female characters," I say.

Lincoln winces. "I guess that's true."

"But most people would say Arwen, so I'll accept your answer." I duck my head to hide my smile, busying myself with a quick glance at my phone.

"Hey, I have to head up," he says. "I'm on duty tonight. But I'll see you later?"

I nod, moving to step around him. "See you later." It feels sweet, like a promise.

"Hey, Wyn?"

I pause, turning back. "Hmm?"

He shifts from foot to foot. "I should apologize. About… Well, I'm the one who turned your roommate in."

"Oh." I hesitate, then shrug. "I mean, that's your job, right? You're an RA."

"Yeah, but I…" He bites his lip, fidgeting. "I told them they should check you too. Because of that girl that came by. We're kind of on high alert for drugs around here—there's been a lot of stuff circulating, and it's not weed. Someone had already reported your room for suspicious activity, and the RAs were supposed to keep an eye out. I thought it was a red flag, but I might have overreacted."

It takes me a minute to figure out what he's talking about. "The girl who tried to get in the building that one night? I only let her in because I'd seen her with Ellie."

He nods. "Yeah. Sorry. I got caught up in the whole thing once we found out she was dealing."

So this whole time he's been standing here talking to me, he's been feeling guilty. That's why he's being so nice. What I might have mistaken as the tiniest bit of flirting was actually his conscience looking for the right time to apologize.

I should've seen that coming. Historically, flirting with cute guys has not been in the cards for me. Normally I'm too intense. Today it's guilt and obligation. That tracks.

"It's fine. You were doing your job," I say at last, my voice flat. I fuss with my jacket as I head for the exit. "I'll see you later."

"Hey, Wyn, I really am—"

"It's fine!" My voice comes out too loud for the small lobby. My smile feels like a grimace as I push my back into the door. "It's all good."

I catch a glimpse of his pained expression before I twist away again, letting the door swing shut between us.

As I replay my conversation with Lincoln, feeling hot with embarrassment and incredibly stupid, my feet carry me across campus to the Torch office. I don't have anything to work on, but at least it'll be empty.

Or so I think, until I step inside and spot Three at the grunt desk.

"I can't believe you're allowed out of the frat house on a weekend." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I remember our last encounter—the haunted house, and the dream I had after.

My face burns. I pray he doesn't notice.

"Oh, it's easy. You just put on your fraternity-issued ankle monitor before you go," Three replies. "No big deal."

"That little slice of freedom, and you chose to be here, alone, when you could be shotgunning beers with your bros?" I drop into my seat, eyeing him. "Seems like an odd choice."

"Does it?" He turns his computer away from me before I can see what he's working on. "Doesn't look like you had anywhere better to be either. At least I have things to do. Let me guess, you just missed me?"

I wish I had a witty comeback for this, but I'm not exactly firing on all cylinders today, and all I can come up with is, "Mmmpf! Yeah, right!"

"Or maybe you're here to explain why the cops showed up at my door this afternoon saying you named me during a drug interrogation." When I jerk around to look at him, Three raises his eyebrows. "Talk about something I never thought I'd hear."

"That was an accident." I shouldn't even comment, but I'm so startled, I can't keep the words in.

He tilts his head. "Are you a drug dealer?"

"No! Of course not. Don't be ridiculous." I turn away from him, wishing I had my laptop. It looks highly suspicious that I have nothing to work on right now. I fiddle with my cup of pens, spilling them across my desk.

"You're seriously giving me nothing?" He shakes the arm of my chair. "Hello?"

"Stop that." I smack his hand lightly, not expecting the zing that shoots straight to my chest. I jerk my hand back, my gaze snapping up to his.

But it's not like an electric shock, where we both feel it. Three simply pulls away, his movements lazy as he shifts back in his seat.

It makes me angry. Why can't I hate him properly? Why don't I find him disgusting? His personality is terrible. He's smug and vindictive and bad at winning but worse at losing. So why do I want to kiss him so badly, I can barely see straight? It would take almost nothing to grab him by the front of his shirt and yank him toward me. The distance is so minimal, I can feel the warmth from his body even now.

My heart picks up speed as I imagine it—his brows jumping in surprise, eyes narrowing, gaze filling with heat as I pull him closer. The rough, frantic meeting of mouths. His gasp at the bite of my teeth on his lip.

"Why do you look like you're plotting my murder?"

It's like having reality grab me by the throat. Everything comes screaming back in twice as sharp—especially the smirk on Three's face.

"Or were you thinking about something else?" His mouth hitches up in a grin. "Hard to tell with you. Could be bloodlust or…" His lips twitch, and I get his meaning.

My frustration mounts. After my encounter with Lincoln, I'm already on edge. I came here to relax, but clearly that's off the table. I feel like I've been walking in circles, searching for silence. It figures that the first time all year I want to be truly alone, I can't seem to find an empty space.

I gather my pens, shoving them back into their mug. "My roommate got kicked out for selling drugs. I didn't know why I was being questioned—I thought you put them up to it somehow. Because you're sick and twisted and probably could blackmail campus police into making my life hell. That's why I mentioned your name."

"Sick and twisted," Three repeats, something changing in his expression—too quick to catch before he covers it with a smile. "I'm glad you think so highly of me. Hey, don't run off on my account."

"It's not on your account." I shove my chair back and stand. "I've already had a very long day. The last thing I need is to subject myself to the literal worst person I've ever met."

He lets out a halting laugh. "Not at all an overreaction. Perfectly reasonable, as always, Evans."

I don't look back as I leave the office, the door slamming shut behind me.