Page 92 of Drawn Together

“Professor Benet is a tight-ass, like you, but deep down he knows I’m right.”

I nodded, and we continued walking toward the exit, when a group of girls intercepted us.

“We’ve talked to everyone in all our classes, and you’d be surprised how many people want to participate,” one of them said.

“Excellent!” Marfil replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “The more people, the better. Did you tell them where we’re going to meet?”

“We’re going to meet on the stairs of the Met and start from there.”

“Great.” She nodded. “Don’t forget to dress warmly. If my personal weatherman is correct,” she said, glancing at me, “it’s going to get colder.”

I frowned as I listened to the conversation.

“What is it you’re planning to do, exactly?” I asked, ignoring the other girls.

“We’re going to pass out food and blankets. With the snowstorm coming, a lot of unhoused people are going to have a really awful time. Not everyone will have shelter…” she began as my frown deepened. “We’re trying to get as many people as possible to bring donations.”

This was unexpected. Even if Marfil Cortés had good intentions, however, I wasn’t going to let her walk around in those weather conditions. But I didn’t say anything, because I knew it would cause a conflict, and I didn’t want to make a scene on campus. As soon as we got in the car, I told her what I thought about it: “You’re not going.”

“Of course I’m going.”

“I said no.”

“Sebastian!” she argued, slapping her legs, frustrated. “I’m the one who organized it, I have to go. I have experience with this kind of thing through ST. It’s what I do, direct action andfundraising, like I was trying to do the morning my car was tampered with. I wasn’t able to help out there, but I can here.”

“You just gave the reason why you’re not: You were trying to help out when you were almost killed. We’re not going to repeat the experience,” I answered, remaining calm.

“Don’t you get tired of always having the same fight?” she said, looking at the road and then going on without waiting for my response. “I tell you I’m going to do something, you give some single-syllable negative response, I insist, you say no again, I end up sneaking out the window, and—”

“You’re not going,” I cut her off.

I felt her eyes on me.

“Can we at least try to come to a compromise?” she asked, exasperated.

I turned brusquely onto our street. “No.”

“We can go just for the first round. It’ll still be daylight. Tons of people are coming out; it’s basically going to be like a school field trip. You’ll be with me the whole time, and we can both help restore a bit of humanity to society.” She sighed. “I truly meant what I said the other night—I feel safe with you around, no fear. So, please?”

I parked the car, cut the engine, and faced her. “One hour,” I said, angry with myself for being incapable of saying no to her, and angry with her because she always insisted on getting her way. “One hour, Marfil, do you hear me? I don’t want you out of the house tonight in that storm. All hell’s going to break loose.”

She smiled sweetly. “That’s exactly why it’s so important to lend a hand, despite the risk.”

Two hours later, we were at Tami’s art studio surrounded by tons of people coming and going, dropping off blankets, food, gloves,umbrellas, and other warm clothing to be handed out that afternoon. Marfil hadn’t stopped moving since we arrived. The space was large and mostly empty, except for the artwork that lined the walls and the cans of paint stacked up in the corners. Tami had spent the last half hour trying to organize everyone into groups while Marfil mapped the areas they were going to cover.

I moved the boxes people had left, never losing sight of the main entrance or anyone present. A little while later, that asshole Liam arrived. He came in emptyhanded, and after pulling Marfil aside to tell her something, she jumped into his arms, overjoyed. He picked her up, spun her around, and then set her back down.

My entire body tensed, and an irrational rage forced me to look away, trying to control the jealousy I felt every time I saw her with him. My eyes then fell on Tami, who was staring at Liam and Marfil from the other end of the room. Based on her expression, I could tell she was also displeased by that public display of affection.

When she noticed that I was observing her, she immediately returned to folding blankets.

I’d had to look into Tami’s past—just like I’d checked up on everyone who was part of Marfil’s life—and I had to admit that reading the report about her had made me feel sorry for that angelic girl, seemingly so fragile.

She was now struggling with a box on a high shelf, and I decided to go over to give her a hand.

“Thanks, Sebastian,” she said, her cheeks red from the exertion. She was very small, no more than five feet tall, and I hated knowing everything she’d been through.

Was Marfil aware of her best friend’s past?