Page 32 of Into Ruin

“Hey!” Lucas jogs over. He slaps my hand. “Some guys are gonna go to the pizza place for dinner tonight. You in?”

My attention is dragged across the quad, toward the student center. To the girl walking at an angle away from me. Backpack on, hands in her pockets. Head bent against the relentless wind.

Harper Shay, at long last.

I straighten, glancing from Lucas to her. It’s really no contest when I compare the two. Continue with him or go follow her?

I’ve been waiting for some blowup. Some reaction to the note I left on the mirror.

Nothing.

Did she find the page?

“I gotta run, man,” I say to my teammate. “Catch you at dinner.”

He nods, and I jog off in Harper’s direction. She’s just disappearing inside the student center, and it takes me another minute to reach the doors. Ahead is the entrance to the dining hall, but it’s closed while they change over from breakfast to lunch.

To my left is a gym and the staircase that goes up to the lounges on the second floor.

Perhaps that’s where she went.

I take the stairs two at a time and pause at the top. I give the open area a quick sweep, and just when I’m about to give up, I find her. Rather, the back of her head.

She’s tucked in a corner all alone, facing the huge windows that overlook the quad.

Well, she’s not alone anymore.

I approach, pausing to look over her shoulder at the textbook open in her lap. A notebook is balanced on her knee, and she’s taking notes by hand.

In a world where students highlight right in the book, or take notes in the margins—or, perhaps worse, type everything into their laptops—this seems like an old-school method.

So I do the natural thing and squeeze between her and the next chair, and I snatch the notebook from her leg. Her pen skates across the bottom of the page, a word cut off.

She lets out a squeak, but she’s not fast enough to stop me. I fall into the seat beside her, ignoring her fully while I thumb through the pages.

Lots of notes that don’t really make sense.

“What is this?” I glance over to find Harperglaringat me.

I smile. I didn’t really know what I was going to get from her. Shame or embarrassment, maybe? But anger is a whole lot better. It matches mine.

“Math,” she snips at me. “Give it back.”

I squint at the page and keep my façade. “There are no numbers.”

“I know.” She reaches for it. “It’s theoretical.”

I keep it away, leaning back in my chair. “Theoretical math? You’re a freshman, aren’t you? This seems like a high-level course for someone in their first semester.”

Strands of hair fall in her face. They flutter with her huff, and she’s practically hanging off her chair to swat at the notebook. I catch her hand and tug a bit more.

Her index finger has a little stain of pink on it. She smells good—floral. I haven’t noticed that scent on her before. Perhaps it’s a new perfume? Borrowed from whoever she’s crashing with?

Her legs leave the floor, and she squeaks.

“Hmm.” I run my finger along the inside of her wrist. “Feisty little thing, aren’t you?”

She yanks.

---