His rushed yet elegant script reminds me that he uses a fountain pen rather than a ballpoint like a normal person. There’s only one line, but it’s enough to incense me.
Looking good in green.
“He did it again, huh?” Olivia remarks, studying my expression.
I must look like I’m sucking on a lemon.
“How the hell does he do it?” I grunt.
It doesn’t matter how far we go, Crossalwaysknows what cosplay I wear.
The only people supposedly aware of the fact that I went as Gamora are Olivia, Jack, and my ex-roommate. None would betray me to bloody Hector Cross.
Claire might be shacked up with one of the legacies, but she’s one of us—a scholarship kid, and a geek to boot. She knows better than to take their side. Besides, Cross has held my cosplays over my head for ages. She only arrived three weeks ago. Cross has known about my cosplays since last year.
As for Liv and Jack, they would rather set themselves on fire than voluntarily speak to the jocks about anything. So how the hell does he know?
“Maybe he follows your socials?” Liv guesses.
I shake my head. “It’s set to private. And I would have noticed if Hector Cross followed me.”
“Not under a fake account,” she retorts.
“He’d have tofindmy cosplay account in the first place,” I point out. “I don’t use my actual name for that, you know.”
It’s not linked to my regular socials in any way I can think of.
I’m dying to confront him about it, but that would mean speaking to him, and I’ve actively attempted not to since the beginning of our acquaintance.Doublyso after the bullshit of last week.
“Come on. You know he only has to cross the street to bug one of the nerds in the Web House, and he can have your entire digital footprint,” Liv reasons just as the bell rings, signaling the end of the torture.
Finally.
And of course this lecture was completely useless: everything Powell said was in the textbook. I could have gone for a two-hour nap instead.
“It’s not like he’s going to actually go to the effort of stalking me,” I retort, gathering my stuff as quickly as I could. “He likes to torture me, sure, but not that much.”
Olivia snorts, with a secretive smile that reminds me she was there last year when I received that text summoning me to his house.
I blushed, rushing out of doors.
I need coffee.
16
LILY
Somehow, I survive Monday, but I stay tired all week—not to mention on my guard, simultaneously dreading and anticipating the next time I’ll see Cross.
We don’t interact for the rest of the week. I see him of course—his stupid double-majoring ass shares many classes with me—but he stays at a distance. Part of me thinks he’ll continue that forever, content to let me squirm, knowing I owe him that kiss, those blowjobs he could demand at any point.
By mid-October, I’m exhausted and cranky.
“I think I love you,” I confess to the beautiful human in front of me.
Not only because she’s gorgeous, with her bright pink hair and the baby-blue eyes, dressed in a slightly punk version of college chic, but because Daisy Morton combines all those attributes with stellar coffee making skills, an out-of-this-world baking talent, and the benevolence of a saint. She never fails to scan her discount code, regardless of how many extra coffee shots I require. I’ve seen her scan it for other students, too. I’m fairly certain the main reason why the faculty hasn’t fired her is because they’re scared her boyfriend will stab them.
Though Dez’s fully capable of stabbing too, if the rumors are true.