Delilah, on the other hand? She’s never had anyone. No wonder she took it personally when she thought my relationship with Aspen was sexual. That would put them in competition.
Have I been spending too much time with Lauren? I’m turning into a shrink.
“Have I shocked you?” I can’t help asking before going back to my food. It’s a little colder now, but at least there’s no hostility in the air.
“Yeah, obviously.” She shakes her head a little. “No wonder you took it so personally. I mean, what happened to her.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Of course.” She notices I’m eating and is quick to pick up her silverware to join me. Now that the truth is out, she’s back to her old self. “Anyway, I think it makes her happy to have somebody to talk books with. I doubt Quinton is much of a reader.”
There’s one more thing I feel needs to be said, even though it’s insulting that I should have to point it out. “I’ve never fucked any of the other students around here. In case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t.”
“That isn’t how it sounded earlier when you accused me of that very thing.”
“I didn’t think you actually did it, though.”
“Right.” I should’ve known better than to think I’d get a straight answer. I don’t know why it matters. It shouldn’t. She is the last person whose opinion I should give two shits about.
31
DELILAH
Preston: I’ll call you at noon. Have the phone on.
It’s three minutes to twelve, and I’m in the girls’ bathroom closest to the library, pacing tight circles inside one of the stalls. I’m glad I thought to power the phone up this morning, or else I might have missed Preston’s text. Now that I can’t see Marcel in class, there’s nobody to warn me that he wants to talk.
What could he want? Probably to get on my ass about the total lack of progress with Aspen. I mean, she’s slowly but surely warming up to me. That’s not difficult. It’s not easy to get time alone with her, is all.
How am I supposed to get her to trust me if we can only talk about things Quinton approves of? What am I even supposed to be looking for? I wish somebody would tell me. The sooner I can stop pretending to like this girl, the better my life will be.
By the time twelve o’clock rolls around, my stomach is in knots, and my hands are shaking so badly I almost drop the phone when it rings. I answer immediately, lowering the lid on the toilet so I won’t accidentally drop the phone in there. “Hi,” I whisper.
“Can you get her alone today to set up a meeting?” So much for a greeting.
It’s like he’s reading my mind, only not in any helpful kind of way. “I was just thinking about that. I honestly have no idea how I’m going to do it.” I’m chewing my lip hard enough to hurt, twirling hair around my finger, bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet. Please don’t let him hate me for this.
“Yeah, Marcel told me he keeps her on a short leash.” Preston snickers. “Pussy whipped. But that’s okay. He’ll be busy tonight.”
“How do you know that?” How many spies do they have? I wish they’d get one of them to go through with this because I’m regretting ever agreeing to help.
“Marcel is taking care of it. Let’s just say he’ll be distracted once he starts digesting his dinner.”
“So it’s definitely happening tonight?” Jesus, Marcel is going to poison him? Not that I’d mind seeing Q drop dead, but this all seems to be happening so fast. I can’t catch up.
“Yes, which means you need to figure something out, fast. Don’t worry, though. We did the thinking for you. You only have to get her alone long enough to float the idea.”
While I’m glad of that, I still feel like shit, thanks to the way he says it. He’s disappointed and upset with me.
“What did you have in mind?” I ask, ignoring the lump in my throat.
“There’s a sunroom there. Are you familiar with it?”
“I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard it exists.”
“Well, that’s another one of her favorite spots. Fucking nerd,” he mutters. “You need to get her up there tonight.”
“After the sun goes down?”
“Christ, you’re fucking dense, aren’t you? Yes, after the sun goes down. There’s some big meteor shower tonight. Make up an excuse, like you want to watch it, but you’re nervous about being alone. She’s so hard up for friends, I’m sure she’ll jump at the opportunity.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
“That’s your problem, isn’t it? The point is, get her there. Marcel will be waiting. He’ll take care of everything else.”
“What time?”
“Have her there at eleven o’clock.”
This means I have to sneak out of the apartment. Lucas is usually in bed before eleven, though. With my luck, he’ll decide to be a night owl tonight. What do I do then?