Page 86 of Obsession

I feign ignorance.

“Anyway, I know it’s petty, but she looked crushed. I heard that she went to the dean’s office to talk to him about it but he wouldn’t even let her in. Also, the dean refuses to reveal who the new evaluator is.”

My lips quirk at the glee in Megan’s eyes.

“Sorry,” she says, giving me a sheepish smile. “I know you don’t care about stuff like this.”

“Who said I didn’t care?”

“I’m just happy because it means I may have another chance to be included in the gallery showing, which is a really high honor in my school.”

“So, how did you hear about all of this good news?”

I literally just left that idiot’s office.

“Oh, it’s all anyone can talk about at school. I was in a workshop class, but as soon as I got out, a friend was waiting at the door. He couldn’t wait to tell me all the gossip.”

“You said he.”

“Uh-huh.”

“A male friend was waiting for you?”

She stares up at me with those gorgeous doe eyes of hers and waits a moment to answer.

“Yes... I have male friends.”

I stare her down with a look of disapproval. Now that I’ve had a taste of Megan, I don’t feel comfortable with some kid waiting on her after class like they’re a part of an after-school special.

But I let it go.

She’s not my woman.

And this moment of joy she’s having isn’t about me. I don’t want to ruin it for her by bringing up things that are none of my concern.

“It’s good to know that you’re getting a fair chance,” I tell her. “I hope they select you.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, beaming at me before leaning down to pick up her three bags as the elevator doors open. “I hope so, too. Oh, Naomi is also coming home today, so I won’t be alone any longer. Which reminds me–” She tucks two of the bags under her arms, struggling with the third one. “I didn’t get a chance to say this before, but thanks for letting Naomi move in with me. It was a really generous offer.”

I take all three bags out of her hands. “I’ll carry these for you.”

“Wait, no.” She tries to take the bags from me, alarmed. “I can carry them!”

“Not before falling and cracking your head open or damaging any of your precious supplies,” I tell her. “Come on. Let’s go.”

She looks reluctant but follows my lead, grumbling the entire way to her front door. “I can carry my own things. I didn’t need help.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course you could.”

Unfortunately, she catches the gesture and scowls. “I could totally carry those bags. You just snatched them from me before I could adjust myself.”

“Yes, yes,” I say soothingly. “It’s my fault.”

“You can be really patronizing, you know?” She gives me a dark look, and I press my lips together to keep from smiling.

“Open the door, Megan.”

The bags are surprisingly heavy, and I frown at their weight. Did she just carry all this stuff by herself to the apartment? Why doesn’t she have a car or, at the very least, take an Uber?

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