He watches me, which only makes me more uncomfortable.
I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, sweat glistening on my skin, and the elevator is suddenly ten degrees warmer. My stomach roils for no reason other than my discomfort.
It’s definitely me.
I’m the only one feeling the heat. Liam appears calm and cool.
Another reason to hate him.
I shuffle my feet, my legs feeling a bit like jelly, the railing at my back the only comfort that surrounds me as my vision goes dark.
Eleven
Liam
While the ride up to Sophia’s room in the elevator is a bit tense, just watching Bristol is entertaining.
Until it’s not.
She sweats profusely.
I assumed it was because she’s thinking about me in some carnal way, fantasizing about the two of us together.
I’ve had my fair share of Bristol fantasies, but it usually gets cut short when she’s chasing me with a dagger, an axe, any type of weapon, really, wearing a bikini, or nothing at all.
But when I watch her eyes roll back in her head, I dash across the small space and catch her on her descent before she can hit the floor.
The girl fainted.
“Bristol.” I can feel her breathing as I scoop her up into my arms.
The elevator dings, and we reach the sixth floor. I step out, carrying Bristol, and stalk down to my sister’s room.
Sophia had better be home.
This is going to be one hell of a surprise, and not the good kind.
Bristol’s eyes open, they’re heavy, and she’s gasping for air, like she’s been competing in a triathlon. “What?—”
“You passed out in the elevator.” I hurriedly make my way to Sophia’s door.
If she’s not home, I’ll have to carry her across campus to her dorm.
She’s really going to hate me, more than she already does.
“Put me down,” Bristol says, but her voice doesn’t hold the normal conviction.
I ignore Bristol and knock on the door with my left foot, trying to get my sister’s attention if she’s home. “Sophia. Open up!” My shout is louder than my knock-kick.
There is rustling and movement. The dorm room door opens, and her eyes widen.
“Bristol passed out in the elevator.” I brush past Sophia, letting myself into the room and place Bristol on the bed, not asking my sister’s permission. I know she’d understand.
“Should we call an ambulance?” Sophia glances from me to Bristol.
“I’m fine. Really, there’s no reason to overreact.” She forces a smile, but her body trembles as she brings her knees toward her chest and bends them but continues lying flat on her back.
“This isn’t an overreaction.” I’m truly worried about her. I never thought I’d see the day where I’d care what happened to Bristol Greyson.