Page 35 of Corrupt Me

“Hmm,” she said, pursing her lips like she didn’t believe a word out of my mouth.

Hell, I didn’t believe me. I wanted it to be a case where it would make it real if I spoke the words into existence. Manifesting or whatever, but the problem was, I’d been manifesting kissing Tristan for years, and it would probably take me twice as long to get over a single kiss.

Sam took a deep breath, her winter-gray eyes humorless. “My gut is telling me you should stay away from him, but I know you won’t listen.” Her tone softened as she added, “Not even after what happened tonight.”

It was true. I should be scared after what we went through and what could have happened if Tristan hadn’t shown up. I could be sitting in the ER getting my face stitched instead of nearly physically unscathed at home. I’d have one hell of a headache and some bruises and scratches, but it was the damage you couldn’t see I worried more about. My mental state was still fragile from what happened with my mother. I didn’t want anything to trigger the darkness I barely crawled out of. “I’m not looking to start anything with him. I’m here to study.”

Sam gave me an I-don’t-believe-you glare.

I wasn’t sureIbelieved me. I had the best intentions—high standards—or at least I used to think I did.

“Like studying Tristan’s lips, his abs, or his ass? Or how good he is in bed?” Sam suggested.

I snorted. “I am taking an anatomy class this semester.”

She grinned, loving a good comeback. “You dirty dog.”

“Enough talk about my neighbor. Are you okay?” I asked, getting serious and confronting the topic I’d been skirting around. We were both calmer now.

“I still want to choke the shit out of Tristan but a little less than five minutes ago,” she admitted.

“Progress, but honestly, he probably deserves your wrath.”

Sam kicked off her shoes, tucking her feet behind her on the couch. “I wanted a killer night, but this turned out to be a little too literal for my liking.”

I touched the side of my face, wishing a bottle of aspirin and water would levitate from the kitchen. “I can’t believe Tristan would get mixed up with criminals. I mean, he’s always lived on the edge and pushed the boundaries, but this seems too far even for him.”

“Do I need to worry about you?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I never thought Tristan would put me in harm’s way before, but I also never thought he would blackmail me either. I’m starting to think I don’t know him as well as I thought I did.”

“That makes two of us,” she mumbled, glancing at the doorway. “Should we be concerned he hasn’t come home yet?” Sam asked, glancing at the doorway.

My gaze followed briefly before I shrugged. “I’m done worrying about him.”

My first weekof school went by in a blessed whirlwind. It gave me little time to think of Preston, Tristan, and the thugs who mistakenly thought I was a bargaining chip. And regardless that Tristan and I lived in the same building, we hadn’t encountered each other once. It made me wonder if he was staying at Thorn Hall. Had he gotten in trouble for fighting on campus? What if he had gotten hurt after Sam and I left? Or he could just be sleeping in several different beds that weren’t his.

By the weekend, I couldn’t stop thinking of him. I had to know he was alive at least. I could stop by his room on my way to the coffee shop, see he wasn’t dead, and go about my day.

Grabbing my bag, I shoved my laptop inside and opened my bedroom door, intending to bang on Tristan’s until he answered, but my phone buzzed in my back pocket.

Preston’s picture flashed over the screen, a photo I’d captured of him last year at the beach, one of our rare dates that had been just the two of us.

Preston preferred group outings. The only time he wanted to be alone with me was when he was horny. Another red flag I failed to let myself see—one of many I was realizing.

Seeing his face caused a conflicting pang of sadness and regret. He’d been silent for days, andnowhe decided to blow up my phone.

I declined the first, second, and third calls as they came through back-to-back.

At some point, I’d have to talk to him, but I could only deal with one Malone at a time.

I stood at the top of the stairs, chewing at my lip as I glanced at the third room down the hall from mine. It hit me then. I didn’t know which room on the three floors was Tristan’s. He could be living in the one right next to us.

Shit.

I made a mental note to ask Sam when I saw her if she knew which room was his, and until then, I sent the asshole a text.

Did my wish come true? Have you been expelled?

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