Page 48 of Say It Slowly

“Oh, cool,” I answer awkwardly. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” he says, and we start walking toward the dining hall. “So, um, how are things with your friend?”

It’s so sweet, he always asks for an update on Bree, when everyone else has just completely forgotten she’s missing.

“No news.” Then I suck in a breath when I remember his dad works at the hospital. “Did you ask your dad if any Jane Does have come into the hospital?”

He shakes his head. “There haven’t been any unidentified patients. But he promised to keep an eye out.”

I push out a sigh of frustration. It’s not what I wanted to hear, but having more eyes out there looking issomething, at least. “Thank you for checking.”

We lapse into silence for a second before I remember something. Holding up a finger, I stop walking, and pull my backpack around, so I can dig into the front pocket. I pull out the scrap of paper Jackson gave me, and hand it to Nathan.

“What’s this?” he asks as I zip my backpack back up. “A drawing?”

I tap the paper. “Someone saw this tattoo on the guy Bree was talking to,” I say excitedly. “It was on his forearm, and the witness said it was new. I guess it was still scabbing.”

Nathan stares down at it. His eyes are wide, like he’s seen this tattoo before, and he’s surprised it has any connection to Bree. Am I just imagining that reaction? Just seeing what Iwantto see? He doesn’t immediately say anything, though, and that’s probably the most suspicious part.

“Have you seen someone with this tattoo?” I ask, hopeful. My eyes are locked on him, breath held.

That question seems to pull him out of his daze, and he blinks, looking up at me. “Um, uh, no. But do you mind if I take a picture of this? I could ask around.”

I deflate a little, but I smile so he doesn’t see it. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

He pulls out his phone and takes a picture, then hands it back to me. I shove it into my pocket.

“Have you checked with the police?” he asks, though I can hear the hesitation in his voice. Everyone here seems to have a thing about the police around here.

“No, not really. I’ve updated them on everything, but honestly, they're not even worried. Every time I call them, they remind me it’s not unusual for college kids to go missing, then turn up later completely fine.”

I know it’s meant to set me at ease, but it doesn’t. It makes me feel dismissed, like no one is even listening. I mean, finding her phone on the beach, the argument with a stranger, and that weird text…how doesno oneelse findanyof that concerning?

Nathan nods as we continue to walk, glancing over at me. “Well, I’m always around if you need to talk,” he says. “I know you’re dealing with a lot.”

I laugh, remembering he was present for the Ramen episode yesterday. “What makes you say that?”

We reach the dining hall and he opens the door for me. He laughs, a low chuckle that makes me feel at ease. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe your new art installation at Rush House, ‘noodles on plaster.’”

I walk through the door, and head straight for the pizza station. “You like it? I call it, ‘unhinged.’”

Nathan grabs a large slice of Hawiian pizza. “I can’t really blame you for losing it. Some of the girls in the Burning Crown are in it for the wrong reasons. They want the prestige, the power, and Nicole is one of the worst offenders. She needed to be put in her place.”

I grab a slice of plain pepperoni. “I don’t really care about all that,” I admit. “Nicole just pushed me too far.”

Nathan turns to face me. “Youshouldcare,” he says in all seriousness. “You’re Roman’s consort.”

“Yeah, you know what, people keep saying that, but I don’t know…” I turn and head toward the drinks. Nathan follows. I grab a large cup, and start filling it with root beer. “Roman just kind of chose me on a whim, and I don’t even really know why. So, honestly, I’m not really involved in any of this.” I motion to the dining hall, and the university at large. “Ruling as the campus queen really isn’t my thing.”

Nathan hands me a plastic top for my cup. “Do you know how many girls wouldkillto be in your position right now?”

“Yeah, I have a vague idea,” I say as we head over to an empty table. But as we move through the dining area, I feel everyone’s eyes on us. They’re probably anticipating another show down. That seems to happen whenever I’m alone with a guy. Shit inevitably goes sideways, and drama erupts. “You sure no one is going to talk shit because we’re sitting together?” I say, looking around.

Sitting down, Nathan leans back and bites into his pizza. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Everyone knows I’m loyal to the Sacred Sons.”

My eyes narrow. “You make the Sacred Sons sound like a cult.”

He shrugs one shoulder in response, but doesn’t say anything, so I know I’ve offended him. There’s an awkward silence, and I should probably just apologize, but instead, I change the subject. “Thank you for sitting with me,” I say. “It’s nice not being alone.”

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