Page 41 of Jump on Three

I hadn’t given him this. It wasn’t even under my name, so he couldn’t have found it on his own.

I checked my Spotify account. I still had one follower. The squatter. The only person I’d given this link to.

My stomach plunged like an out-of-control elevator. This couldn’t be a coincidence.

Which meant…

Well, there was no sense in wondering. I tapped out a quick text that could answer my question in one swoop.

Me: I hope you haven’t wrecked room 3 in my absence.

Send.

Ivan’s screen lit up a second later, and there was my text. My contact on his phone was “Angel.” I didn’t know how to feel about that—or any of this. My stomach was a mess, and my heart was lodged in my throat.

I slipped his phone into his hoodie pocket and pressed myself against the window, creating as much room between us as possible.

Ivan Sokolov was the squatter, but that didn’t mean he knew I was “Angel.” He might have thought he was texting some random SA girl, perhaps hopeful it was someone like Layla or Clarice.

Not that Layla ever studied.

This was no good. I’d have to give him room three. I could never go back and run the risk of him figuring out it was me all along.

Delilah’s logical voice whispered in my head, saying he might’ve already known. That the reason he’d been texting me was because he knew me in real life and wanted to tease me a little. He had never been mean to me…outside of stealing my study room. Then again, Ivan wasn’t a mean person.

Oh, my head. It was bound to explode with all the thoughts and theories bouncing around inside it. The only way to find out answers was to ask Ivan, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to do that.

Besides, it wasn’t like I could shake him awake and demand explanations. I had to let it go and survive the rest of the bus ride.

Turning on my Russian lessons, I picked up my needles. Once we were back at school, I would solve all the mysteries of Ivan Sokolov. For now, I had a scarf to finish and a language to master.

Chapter Fourteen

Ivan

Dear Room 3 Thief,

I want you to know I’m allowing you to have room 3 today—you did not win it. Please try not to leave a big mess like you usually do. Books should be respected, as should the place that is their home.

-e

The note was cute, but I was disappointed at not battling with Evelyn for the room today. I got the studying done I needed to, though, without the satisfaction of playing around with her through text.

I expected to hear from her tomorrow, knowing she wouldn’t be able to ignore the crumbs and crumpled water bottle I left for her.

Freddie slapped my arm. “It’s creepy when you smile to yourself like that, you know?”

We met up after I finished studying and were on our way to the dining hall for dinner. Despite the crumbs I’d created in the library, my stomach was empty and growling.

“It’s creepy to be in a good mood?”

“Yes.” He gestured toward the campus around us. “Do you see where we are? A pretty prison, on our way to another pretty prison, where we’ll spend four years cramming useless information into our overtaxed minds for the privilege of being chained to a desk until we die. What have you got to be in a good mood about?”

His dark outlook on our futures amused me. “Freddie, get it the fuck together. I’d rather be in a pretty prison than behind real bars, and I have no intention of spending much time at a desk.”

He rolled his eyes. “Lucky bastard. Not every person has a family business to go into.”

My father expecting me to work for him for the rest of my life often did not make me feel lucky. I was on that ride now and already wanted off. He’d sent me to California to oversee his investments, and these past months had hammered home more than ever that working for him long term was unsustainable. It wasn’t due to the line of work but having him as my boss. Giving him more power over me wasn’t an option.

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