Page 22 of Cruel Hearts

“Oh.” She wiped a shaky hand through her brow. “Maybe I’m coming down with the flu.”

“Do you have low blood sugar?” I stood, remembering how one of the girls at my old school used to get the shakes because she was on insulin. The only thing that helped her was chocolate or a glucose tablet. “I can make you—”

“No.” She bolted up to her feet. “I’m fine.”

“If you say so.” I lowered myself onto the sofa and stared at her trembling fingers.

Maeve shoved her hands in the pockets of her blazer and sat back in the armchair. “What happened?”

I took a good look at my classmate. From the way she sweated and trembled, it was hard to tell if she was freezing cold or burning with a fever. Maeve shrank into her seat, looking as though she couldn’t bear my scrutiny, so I turned my head and viewed her from the corner of my eye.

“Some dickhead thought they’d be clever and sneak a large quantity of flour into my room wrapped up to look like drugs,” I said.

Her eyes bulged. “But the sniffer dogs—”

“They must have sprinkled trace amounts of cocaine on top of the bag, so the dogs knew where to look.”

Maeve straightened. “I knew you weren’t dealing.”

“Is that what they’re all saying?”

“Adewale’s telling everyone you’re the victim of a vicious prank, but they’re all saying he’s biased because you’re…” Clenching the arms of her chair, she lowered her gaze to her knees. “You know.”

“Giving him hand jobs?” I asked.

Maeve didn’t say anything for a several moments, letting the crack and pop of the fire fill the silence. “Blow jobs, actually.”

I snorted. “Right.”

“Is it true?”

“What are you talking about? I just told you—”

“No, I meant you and Adewale?”

“We’re best friends. That’s all.”

Maeve stiffened into one of those flinching shudders people usually blamed on others walking over their graves. She pulled her hands out of her pockets and rubbed the back of her neck.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

“It’s just a chill.” She stood and headed toward the door.

I followed her out. “Leaving already? I wanted to ask you about the last girl Elizabeth got expelled.”

“She won’t get rid of you. Mr. Burgh wouldn’t allow it.” After sprinting to the door, she fumbled over the latch and pulled it open. A gust of cold wind blew into the hallway, making her stagger back. “Oh!”

“What’s wrong?” My brows drew together. The flu made people lethargic, not jittery.

Maeve dipped her head and ducked around a large figure. Kendrick stood at the doorstep. The real one. And judging from the scowl marring his handsome features, he probably blamed me for what happened to his brother’s face.

My shoulders dropped. So much for getting Orlando on his knees sucking my clit.

“What do you want?” I snapped.

“You owe us.” He stepped through the threshold like he owned the place and pulled the door shut.

Despite the recent blast of cold air, the entrance hall suddenly became too warm, and the cotton fabric of my long nightgown too scratchy. I adjusted the neckline of my dressing gown and straightened.