Page 57 of Challenge Me

Apparently taking Roman at his word, rather than my cringey ass, Avery dipped her head, then turned to exit the aisle.

“Travis would make a joke that you just struck out,” Roman noted.

“Thanks, dickhole. That’s nice of you.”

“I’m not Travis. What I want to say is less . . . kind.”

“I’m impossible to offend, so take your swing.”

“You might not be trying hard enough. Your face can’t make up for your lack of a personality, you know.”

I snorted. “Yeah, yeah, base bunny. I hope Amir cracks that ball right into your boyfriend’s noggin. Might jumpstart his last few brain cells so he can get a real career.”

“Like a bartender?”

“Even your boyfriend’s eleven million couldn’t get me to sell out on my passion.”

One side of his mouth lifted. “You should stop Googling people. It’s creepy.”

“Gotta have a leg up when I’m throwing myself in among men who are leagues above me.”

With a wink, I slid past him. He said my name, and I evaded him when he tried to stop me. I plopped myself right beside Mal, then angled my head, mockingly inconspicuous.

I was surprised to find that she wasn’t drawing anymore. Instead, she was writing—in cursive, which was both dope and weird. She’d filled almost the entire page, and even though I wanted to read it, I refrained.

“Hey, Mal. I’m Remi.”

Roman watched us with his lips pulled to the side. Sure, I was pushing some boundaries here, but I thought it was more rude for me to act like she didn’t exist. Then again, that was exactly what she was doing.

“I’m a friend of your dad’s,” I went on, playing it as casual as I could manage.

When she remained silent, I glanced at Roman again. This time, he seemed amused.

“You’ve got some hella cool hobbies,” I said. “I used to carry a notebook everywhere, too, you know.” Silence, the evil bastard. “Although, I wasn’t writing stories as much as I was imagining it was a Death Note. Maybe you’re doing that too. Should I start calling you Kira?”

Roman snorted when Mal refused to say anything. She’d been pretty quiet since getting here, but I’d heard her exchange words with him enough to surmise that I was dropping the ball off the peak of Mt. Everest. Might as well take the damn thing to orbit.

“Do you like poetry? Ahem. Okay, uh, let’s see . . . I once met a girl who could draw any car, with wheels so round they could roll clear to Mars. I’d draw, too, you know, but my stick men are tragic, so I stick to bad poems and, uh, emotional . . . magic?” I breathed a laugh and ran a hand through my hair. “Anyway, you’re probably way cooler than me, like a little Valkyrie or something.”

Gazing out at Amir, I questioned, not for the first time, what right I had to be here. It was temporary, sure, but the details were getting muddled along the way. We’d pretty steadily barreled into the complicated zone. Now, I was in a situation I was never meant to be in—a situation that, by his own admission, he didn’t want me in.

“Boyfriend.”

I blinked, letting the world come back into focus as I looked down at Mal. “What?”

She flipped to a fresh page and started to draw. It wasn’t as smooth or quick as Roman’s hand, but things began to take shape. There were two simple figures, one of them with chin-length hair and the other with a ball cap on his head. I glanced at Amir, then back at the paper.

“Is that, uh, me? And your dad?” I felt dread rise in my stomach as I pointed to something my figure was holding. It looked like an upside-down flag perched on the ground. “What’s that?”

Silently, she made a half-circle, like a mound in front of me. She wrote the letters Au inside it, then tore out the paper and set it on my lap before she pulled away quickly. I stared at the picture, not entirely sure what I was looking at. She hadn’t said more than a word to me, but it felt like she’d communicated a hell of a lot more.

When I saw Avery coming down the aisle, I returned to my seat, still holding the paper. I looked at Roman, but he shrugged. So much for his artistic eye or whatever.

He leaned forward and angled himself so he could see Avery better. “So, how long are you guys staying in Florida?”

“Only through tomorrow,” she replied. “I have class on Monday.”

I tried to recall what she taught at the college. Some sort of science.