Unthinkable (Unstoppable 2)

LISS

Don’t do it.

I gnawed on my lower lip as my fingers slid back and forth over the laptop keyboard. Sitting cross-legged on the narrow twin bed in my dorm room at South Coral University with the computer perched on my lap, I wrestled with the urge to look at Leon’s Instagram.

A sharp trill blared from my cell and I startled—dropping the laptop like it was hot and snapping the lid down. I made a grab for the phone and squeezed my fingers around it for a beat, my heart racing. If ever there was a sign not to do something, that was it. Fuck.

A quick glimpse at the screen showed Riley’s smiling face, and I swiped the pad of my thumb across it to answer.

“Hey! Riley! How’s it going?” I grimaced at the high-pitched sound of my voice. Because that wouldn’t sound suspect at all.

Nothing to see here, Ri. No potential stalking of some guy from back home whom I shouldn’t even be thinking about, let alone stalking on social media.

“Uh, you’re chipper tonight. What’s going on?”

Goddammit. I swallowed. “What do I usually sound like?”

“A lot less peppy. What’s up? Is it a guy?”

My eyes skittered back to the closed lid of the laptop, and I slid my foot out along the bed and nudged it farther away from me. There wasn’t much I could hide from Ri, and vice versa, but Leon was a guilty pleasure I didn’t want to share with anyone. Including myself. If only that were possible. Thinking about him now and again, checking out his socials… those things were harmless. Sort of. Probably not, but at least only I knew how low I’d sunk. Talking about him and admitting it out loud, that was s

omething else entirely.

Even if I wanted to share, Riley had dealt with a mountain of crap this past year, real stuff, and I wouldn’t bog her down with my trivial can’t get some guy out of my head bullshit. Not to mention, I now knew the guy in question was likely still in love with her, which meant talking about Leon with Riley would be weird on so many levels.

“Can’t I just be happy to hear from my best friend?”

A quick laugh filtered into my ear. “Nice try. I know you better than that, Lissy. But I won’t push if you’re not ready to talk about it yet. I’m here, though, whenever you’re ready. That hasn’t changed because we’re in different states. You know that, right?”

“Course,” I said, squeezing the word out through thickened vocal cords. “If or when there’s anything to tell, you’ll hear it first.”

“I should think so. I’ve put in ten years of leg work and, like I said, you’re not always pep rally material. It’s been hard freaking work.” I heard the smile in her voice and mellowed a little.

“Wow. Tell it like it is, Wiley Riley.”

She gave a soft chuckle. “Wouldn’t have you any other way, babe.”

The hard lines across my face softened, and I settled back against the wall. “So, how are you, Ri? Really.”

There was a slight pause, followed by a quiet rustling, then, “I’m okay. College is good for me, it is. Getting away from it all. But…” She let the sentence trail off. She didn’t need to finish it. Some things she couldn’t run from.

I traced a fingernail over the skin peeping through the hole in my jeans. “I know, babe. It’ll get better, Ri. I promise it will.”

Her measured inhalation carried through the line. “Enough about me. I’m sick of me. The past two weeks, I’ve answered so many questions about myself, I’ve learned some new stuff.”

A low snort broke from me. “Just do what I do and tell them you’re in the witness protection program. Someone came up to me the other day with a cue card. An actual checklist of questions. What even is that? I’m pretty sure that chick left campus when I told her I was hiding from a violent crime family after witnessing a murder, and everyone I’d ever came into contact with had died with a bullet lodged in their skull.”

Riley groaned. “You didn’t, Liss?”

I sat up higher on the bed and laughed. “Course I did. Bunch of nosy bastards. Is there no mystery anymore? No, you little twerp, you don’t need to know the day I got my first period. Fuck off.”

“Jesus,” Riley muttered. “Making friends, then?”

“Sure. The best kind, the ones that don’t talk to me. Exactly how I like them.”

“Lissa!” I could almost hear her head shaking in despair. “What about your roommate? Do you at least talk to her?”

“I say hi. In my own way.” More of a grunt of acknowledgement.