Page 18 of Tell Me Why
Leaning back on my heels, I cross my arms over my chest and pin him down with a stare. “You wanna take this over? I’ll hand this circus back over to youright now.”
He runs his tongue over his teeth, considering. Then his gaze flicks to Wyn sitting on the couch. Finally, he says, “Nah, man. I trust you. Just…be careful with Eve. Webarelyescaped a shitstorm with the police recently. No need to bring any more unwanted attention on us.”
“Right,” I say. Idiot. The only reason we “barelyescaped a shitstorm with the police” was becausehewent against protocol. He let his obsession with Wyn get to his head, and he acted without thinking.
That’s not me. That’s not my vibe.
He turns and flicks his chin at Wyn. “Hey, babe. Let’s go. I’ll walk you to class.”
As they leave, he claps his hand down on my shoulder. “I know these last few weeks have been tough. Just be careful,” he tells me for the millionth time.
Once Lucas and Wyn are gone, I call Austin over.
“What’s up?” Austin asks eagerly. It’s why I like him. He’s always ready and willing to do whatever I ask.
“I have some invites ready that need to go out before tonight.”
“Yeah, no problem,” he says. “I’ll do it now.”
“Sara has the envelopes and the list,” I say.
Eve’s presence has infected Rush House like a virus, turning the guys against each other. Now it’s time to administer the cure...
CHAPTEREIGHT
Eve
Later that night,I’m sitting in bed, my textbooks sprawled out in front of me, studying for next week’s midterms, when there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I say distractedly, pencil eraser pressed against my cheek. Closing my eyes, I recite the definition I’m currently working on—Retrieval is the process of pulling stored memories from long-term memory into immediate, working memory…
The door swings open, and I glance up from my textbook to see the devil himself leaning against the frame. “What do you want?” I ask on a sigh.
He holds up a black envelope. “For you.”
I pause, waiting for him to explain further, but he doesn’t.
He’s baiting me. He wants me to ask what it is. Instead, I shake my head and go back to reading my textbook. “I’m busy.”
With a laugh, he pushes off the doorframe and wanders over to me. His gaze falls to the tray of food sitting on the nightstand. Someone brought it up earlier. I ate the banana, but nothing else.
“Why aren’t you eating?” he asks in his usual bossy tone.
“Why are you worried about my eating habits?”
“Well…” He leans back and rakes a suggestive gaze over my body. “I’d hate for you to lose those delicious curves.”
“I’m fine,” I bite out, my skin itching under his scrutiny.
He’s not wrong, though. I haven’t been eating super well. Lately, I’ve been going down to the kitchen to get something to eat, and the kitchenhasbeen stocked, but 90% of it is stuff I can’t eat. I haven’t been brave enough to mention why.
So, yeah, I’ve basically been living off Ramen for the past two weeks.
“What’s the last thing you ate?” he asks, eyeing me skeptically.
“Ramen,” I say, annoyed with his line of questioning. But answering him is the quickest way to end this conversation. My brother is stubborn and controlling, too, so I know exactly how to deal with guys like him.
“And before that?”
