Page 70 of Don't Be in Love

“Why are you stand—”

Her eyes lit with the same rage she had when I pulled her from the balcony on Halloween. It was both terrifying and surprisingly invigorating.

Maybe even more terrifying now as she latched onto my wrist and yanked, pulling me into the tight space and slapping her other hand over my mouth.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” I pulled her hand off my mouth, thinking of when we were stuck behind the couch in the bookshop.

“Be quiet,”she whispered, reaching past me to shut the door.

I got a strong whiff of the sweet coconut-scented lip gloss she wore. It gave me a headache that would reappear once my head hit my pillow tonight.

We were uncomfortably close. My hands itched to pull her closer. I could even count the number of gems in her pendant at this proximity.

“Why?”I asked.

“Because I’m investigating.”

“Investigating? Investigating what?”

“If people know about us.”

“So you’re snooping.”

“I am not snooping,”she argued

“Says the one hidden in a closet with her ear pressed against the wall like a retired detective.”

“I don’t even know what that means.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “And it’s a reading nook. We’re in a reading nook.”

“You’re not helping yourself here.”

“Says the one stalking me.”

“Stalking you?You sit in the same spotevery day. I walked about three feet to find you.”

She looked me up and down. It made the muscles in my hand flinch. My brain was having trouble dissecting that the look was not to actuallylookat me but to analyze me.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I told her.

“Like what?”

“Like I followed you in here when you’re the one up to something. If anything, it’d seem like you were luring me here. If you wanted to be locked in a room with me so badly you could’ve just—”

“Sorry, that was my aunt. She texted me the picture.” Some girl’s voice came out of nowhere and Adelaide’s hand was back over my mouth.

Listen, her eyes said. She removed her hand and pressed her ear against the wall. I followed.

“What did you hear?” another girl said.

The original voice responded. “My aunt was there, and she swore she saw Dorian dancing with someone else and—”

“Not Victoria?”

My heart thudded. Adelaide looked at me with wide eyes.

“Definitely not Victoria,” the girl confirmed.

It’s fine, I responded, trying to relax the curve of stress between her brows. Students gossiped all the time.