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I scribbled my last paragraph, not really caring if I was right or wrong. Somehow, Bennett’s philosophy on angels and demons didn’t matter so much anymore. I knew a hell of a lot more than he did, regardless of what grade he gave me.
I threw my paper on his desk and ran after Malcolm. He had just passed through the double doors opening to the commons area. I sprinted, punching through the door and hurrying across the leaf-littered walkway.
“Malcolm! Wait!”
His shoulders hunched as he stopped, turning slowly. I was panting by the time I caught him.
“Hey.”
Awkward pause. “Hey.”
Damn. He was pissed.
“Listen. I’m sorry I didn’t call this weekend. There was just so much going on.”
You seriously have no idea. Likesomuch going on.
“Sure. I understand.”
But he didn’t.
“I’m sorry if I was rude the other night. I wasn’t ditching you, but I didn’t want my dad to worry.”
When did I become such an amazing liar? We started walking again, making our way to the far end of the commons toward a side street.
I glanced down, thankful again to Jude for allowing me (yes, fucking allowing me) to stop by my apartment so I could change before he dropped me off at school. It would be even more awkward having this conversation in an oversize T-shirt that obviously belonged to a large male. I didn’t think I could explain that away so easily. Besides, I needed this high-necked hoodie sweatshirt to hide the ghastly bite mark purpled and tender at the base of my throat.
“No biggie.” Malcolm shrugged. “It would’ve been nice to know what that was all about, though.”
“Yeah. I know I owe you an explanation. It’s kind of complicated.”
Malcolm took hold of my forearm gently and stopped us both. He faced me, speaking low and even. “Try me.”
The expression on his face made my heart hurt. He really liked me, and I wasn’t so sure I couldn’t like him. We’d been friends for nearly two years, and he was fun to hang out with. I mean, this was the kind of guy I needed to date—funny, good-looking, a gentleman, and completely lacking in the dark-secrets-and-rage-issues department. I sighed.
“I can’t tell you exactly, but my dad gambles a bit on the side.” Not completely a lie. He gambles, but not at a casino, just with his buddies on poker night twice a month. “And, there were some guys who thought maybe my dad had cheated, and they were pretty upset about it.”
Well, the guys did accuse dad of cheating like every week because he always won. They were so upset, they demanded he bring a case of beer if he beat them more than five rounds.
I stopped talking because anything else I might say would be a complete and total fabrication. I made this sort of and-that-was-that shrug of the shoulders, hoping he’d fill in the rest with his imagination.
“So, that guy was like a bodyguard or something, to watch for any sort of retaliation?”
I gave a sharp nod. A breeze caught a stray lock of hair that had fallen from my messy bun. “Something like that.”
Malcolm’s eyes followed the strand whispering across my lips. I tucked it back into place. His winning smile was back where it belonged.
“You don’t have to tell me anymore. I can see it’s personal.”
“Good. Thank you.”
The sudden rumble of a motorcycle engine pulled our eyes across the street. Jude had been so curt and quiet this morning, dropping me off without a word, I’d thought he might give me a reprieve from the babysitting routine. No dice, apparently.
“Are you kidding me?” Malcolm grumbled, not even trying to hide his disgust. “Genevieve, does your dad think there are mobsters who are going to attack you on campus?”
The biting sarcasm was so unlike Malcolm. It didn’t suit him at all.
“He can be really overprotective sometimes. Silly, I know.”
