Page 31 of Cruel Devotion

I furrowed my brow, watching him enter the big, open space of the main floor. After his weird attempt of sitting by me at the food court earlier, I felt like it’d be wise to maintain more space from him. A bigger buffer to protect myself from any more of his dumb pranks or jokes or proclamations of caring about my being made fun of or bullied.

Watching from this corner, and glad that he likely wouldn’t see me right away because of a single potted tree next to my table that gave me slight shelter, I wondered what the hell he was doing here.

What, no party tonight?

No ladies to take to bed?

Done with the fun and games and bored?

Seeing him in the library didn’t add up. He didn’t belong here with the other nerds and introverts like me.

Yet, he was there, dressed in an unzipped coat, his thick brown hair mussed like he’d been walking all night without a hat.

Wait a second…

He didn’t approach my table, not seeing me, but he seemed too random and lost anyway. With his gaze lowered as he seemed to amble mindlessly through the open room of the library, I wondered if he was cold. The tips of his ears seemed red. His cheeks were pink, too, like he’d suffered from wind burn.

I squinted, leaning over to try to see him clearer across the big space.

Is that blood?

Curiosity tugged at me, and I hated how it turned so swiftly into downright intrigue, then something that seemed a lot like concern.

In the process of slanting over to peer at him, I brushed my shoulder against my water bottle and it tipped over. With the lid closed, water didn’t spill, but the narrow shape of the insulated metal bottle smacked down on the table with that loud clang. Teachers always complained that they sounded like a bomb when they fell to the floor, and despite this table being polished wood, the audio effects remained the same.

Loud. Disrupting. Annoying.

Many students and fellow visitors at the library turned to glower at me, damning me for making a ruckus in a building meant to be silent.

But worst of all, as I righted my bottle, Eli followed the source of the loud sound. He pivoted, almost in slow motion, and faced me directly.

It was blood.

On his brow, his lip. I bet there were several other places, too. That had to be why he was shuffling, not because he was cold from the outdoors but because he was hurt.

And before I could rationalize why I had to keep my guard up, I was impatient to help.

He walked toward me, his lean face not smirking or smiling for once. A dull, passive blankness showed in his tired gaze and frowning mouth.

Before he got to my table, I pushed my books aside and set my water bottle further over.

“What happened to you?” I asked, blunt and to the point.

I didn’t ever make a habit of initiating a conversation with him. I hadn’t since fourth grade, when he seemed to be too cool for me. But tonight was an exception. He looked like he’d gotten in a terrible fight.

He shrugged, idly looking down at my books and notepads.

“Are you… mad?”

He cleared his throat. “Are you asking that as in am I crazy?”

“Are you angry?” I asked. I couldn’t get a good read on him, not with that sullen face. He looked like he was one inch away from committing murder but also just as near the chance that he could slump down and be dejected about the sad state of the world, like Aunt Cindy was doing at home.

“Never mind.” I shook my head. “None of my business.” Besides, what difference would it make if he was mad or sad or anything else? It wasn’t as though I could help him with any of those.

“I was mad,” he admitted, sitting in the chair next to me.

Crap.This was like déjà vu, his just inviting himself to sit with me. Unlike that little stunt at the food court, though, I couldn’t guess why he was voluntarily being in my presence now. None of his friends were around. No one was around, really. The library was mostly vacant in this corner.

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