A full minute of lip smacking silence ensued, with her pausing only to chug milk or shovel grapes down her throat. Bit by bit, the unrelenting shakes that accompanied her hunger began to retreat, until at last ease weaseled its way in.
“What happened with your money?” Wyatt said. He reached for his milk and tore the carton open, making Edy realize that he hadn’t even begun to eat.
“I don’t have any, that’s what. My credit cards have been cancelled and financial aid is waiting on some documentation from my mother.”
Wyatt stared at her. “So, call them. I’m sure they don’t know your situation. They wouldn’t have you wanting for food or anything else.”
Edy almost smiled. In a topsy-turvy world, they’d pivoted positions. He’d become the naively optimistic one with casual designer wear, while she looked on in hunger.
Life, it seemed, stayed fueled by ironies.
“Listen,” Wyatt said and shoved a hunk of chicken in his mouth. “I meant to grab food to go because my friends are expecting me.”
Edy followed his gesture to a clustering group of guys smattered with two girls. One girl, with platinum streaked in her hair, stared intently.
“I saw you,” Wyatt said, “and I had to speak. I had to help.”
Speak. Speaking! Oh shit, he was a guy and Edy was so not supposed to be talking to guys right now. Not after Tamela tore her a new one for letting Hassan run his hands all over her.
But she couldn’t escape this conversation if she wanted to. And she didn’t want to. There was so much to say. So many questions. Edy would ask at least one. “What are you doing here, Wyatt? Here in Louisiana?”
How did you find me?
Wyatt picked at his grapes with a fork.
“That’s a fair question,” he said finally.
Edy waited.
“I finished treatment,” he admitted. “And when I did, I knew I couldn’t go back to living with my dad. I couldn’t live with my grandfather for long, either. We weren’t getting along and neither place felt like home. Boston wasn’t home for me anymore. It was all misery.” He hesitated, stealing a glimpse at Edy. “Eventually, I realized that all my good memories were with you or of you. They were memories of our friendship, a friendship that I spoiled. So I decided that I had to be near you, if only for that reason. Even if we never spoke or ran into each other again. Our friendship felt like home to me.
“When I saw you in line, I decided not to speak. I figured that things were probably best that way. But when I saw you couldn’t get your meal,” he shook his head, “I couldn’t stay away. You know I could never not be there for you, Edy.”
Edy dropped her gaze, unsettled by the warmth in her belly and the certainty that Wyatt put it there.
He swallowed the last of his milk. In the silence, she stole a look at him, only to find him appraising her frankly. “I have to go. There’s so much I want to tell you. About how I’ve changed, about the work I’ve done on myself.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the platinum blonde and her friends. “I have friends, Edy. Me. And they’re waiting. But if you need me, need anything at all… Please find me. You know I’d do anything for you.”
He reached over and brushed a thumb against her cheek, causing Edy to flinch. Before she could form an answer—a sensible, intelligent answer—Wyatt had swept his tray away and gone.
Not long after, Edy lifted her milk for a sip and found two damp twenties had been wedged underneath.
Chapter Eighteen
Edy didn’t keep Wyatt’s money. Instead, she slipped it in the Red Cross box sitting in her dorm lobby. For the rest of the evening and as she got ready for class the next morning, she wondered why Wyatt was at LSU and for how long he’d be there. Had he really come just to be near her? And if he had, why hadn’t he tried to contact her? Would she have talked to him if he’d called? She really had no idea. It all felt so bizarre—she felt bizarre just seeing him.
She would have to tell Hassan that Wyatt was in town. He’d lose his shit, of course, but what choice did they have? America, and Baton Rouge within it, remained a free country. The boy could come and go as he pleased, even if it made others uncomfortable.
Edy really had nothing she could complain about. He had only spoken to her in a moment and at a time of obvious distress. Maybe he had been in Baton Rouge for as long as her. Maybe he had arrived before. So long as he didn’t make a point of being in contact with her, what could she object to?
Hassan wouldn’t see it that way. He had always seen Wyatt as creepy. Eventually, through deliberate purpose, Wyatt set out to prove him right. Edy hadn’t been the best friend for him, yet he hadn’t been the best friend for her. Neither had been honest with the other about their true intentions. Maybe neither could have or even knew how.
The more Edy puzzled over the best way to tell Hassan that Wyatt was in town, the more her brows drew together and her heart pounded. He would not be civil about this. He would not accept it at face value. Even face value sucked, because Wyatt’s story of lurking nearby because Edy felt like home just wouldn’t play for Hassan. Edy worried that he’d do something stupid and drastic. He’d lash out as he did whenever he got super pissed. Except there wouldn’t be a wall, but a Wyatt.
Maybe she shouldn’t say a word. If she kept silent and Hassan never ran into him, then they could go on with their lives uninterrupted. With more than thirty thousand students at LSU, it seemed possible that Wyatt could slip by. And was he even a student? It seemed unlikely. How could he have completed an application, been accepted, and enrolled all over the course of a few months? Then there was the issue of him in a psychiatric facility. Surely, he wasn’t tracking her down while getting treatment for…
What was he getting treatment for anyway?
It didn’t matter. They were no longer friends. Edy wished him well; she wished him great health and tons of happiness, but a friendship with him proved too problematic.
It was exactly this thought she’d had when she cavorted quickly around a parked motorcycle only to trip over the sidewalk instead. Edy slammed into the worst possible person she could think of at that moment.
“Idiot,” Silas said. He had her in his arms as if he’d caught a baby, but he’d snarled the insult just the same.
Edy righted herself in an instant. “Asshole,” she snapped.
They were just outside History of Dance and glaring as if a knife fight would follow.
“You have a serious problem with walking, don’t you?” He looked more than a little amused. “First you trip in class, now you trip out here. Are you sure you can even dance?”
“I can dance better than you, I’m sure!” she cried, halfway past appalled and thinking that knife fight might be possible after all.
Silas rolled his eyes. “You’re a Lady Tiger. I’m sure half of what you do is shaking that massive rack of yours.” He pointed at her breast with a finger, nearly close enough to touch one. Edy slapped his hand away and thought of slapping him too for good measure.
“You’re a nasty little thing, aren’t you?” she said.
Silas jerked a brow, then leaned forward from his bike. “There is nothing little about me, Edith Phelps. Get to know me and you’d find that out for yourself.”
She blushed like Vegas lights. “I don’t want to get to know you!”
His lips curled in disbelief. She supposed with his height and powerful frame, plus those ice gray eyes, plenty of girls wanted to get to know him. But not her. She didn’t even want to be near him.
“I have class,” Edy announced when he kept right on looking her over. She swept past him, knowing he’d be headed the same way.
At the door, she realized that everyone had fallen into the habit of taking their seats from the first day. With a sigh, she reluctantly slid into hers, knowing that meant Silas would sit before her.
“Miss me?” he said intimately and dropped into his seat.
Edy had been watching for him, but only because she dreaded him. H
e couldn’t possibly know she’d been on the lookout, could he? She looked away, breathless with embarrassment and anger.
Once class began, they went into a discussion about dance in ceremonies and rituals. The discussion was based, in part, on their assigned readings. Edy hadn’t done the assigned reading yet.
She’d spent too much time in the den.
Still, she was able to ad-lib a bit when she was called on, as she knew a bit about Shastriya Nritya, a type of Hindu classical dance done in the temples. After that, they were told that part of their semester end project would be to perform a short piece from some point in history. The professor paired partners up and down the class lazily. With dawning horror, Edy realized what was happening.
“Swain and Phelps,” their professor said as if she’d done nothing of consequence. “Adams and… Nesme, is it?”
Silas turned to Edy and scowled. “Try not to fall, if you can.”
“Try not to be an asshole, if you can,” Edy snapped back. She realized she was asking too much.
He lifted a shoulder and in that gesture said that she shouldn’t hope for much and Edy couldn’t help but roll her eyes.
The second class ended, and Edy gave him a reluctant stare. They’d have to communicate now and civilly would be best. Otherwise, this project would turn into a nightmare for both. Still, she couldn’t believe she’d actually have to tolerate this jerk.
“So,” she said, in an attempt to push the negative thoughts away, “I’m thinking we could get away with ballet. It’s about six centuries old and we both have tons of experience with it. Or even—”
“We’re not doing ballet,” Silas said, mocking her as he slung his backpack on. “Or whatever else you dream up. I know you’re used to guys falling at your feet and doing what you say, but you’re crazy if you think I’ll do the same.”
Edy’s eyes flew wide before she exhaled in disbelief. She was not used to guys falling at her feet. Though she had the arsenal of boys she’d grown up with, who were all but sworn to protect her. Then there was Wyatt who, she realized, in hindsight, had strong feelings for her and could fawn. And she’d always been a daddy’s girl—she made no apologies for that. She’d always been her father’s girl, and Ali’s too.
Wait. Did that mean there was some merit in what Silas was saying?
He smirked at her as if having read her mind before starting off for the hall.
This was ridiculous. They had a project to do and it had nothing to do with her personal life. She told him as much when she caught up.
Silas sighed. “Fine. Then give me a call when your social calendar frees up. I’m sure it’s chock full of admirers.”
It wasn’t, of course, because she was an ordinary girl with ordinary looks who just happened to be talented in a more obvious way. There were girls prettier than her in that hall at that moment, girls prettier than her on her team. But again, none of this had a thing to do with their assignment and Edy had tired of Silas running off course.
She took down his number, gave him hers, and exhaled in relief when he disappeared. The guy was intense, she’d give him that.
With Silas out of the way, Edy’s thoughts turned to Wyatt as she headed over to English class. His presence felt… forced. He had disappeared from school after the shooting, going through hospitalization and an extended recovery period. He had disappeared from life after that. Word was that he’d been forced into a treatment facility to deal with outstanding mental health issues. His grandfather, who turned out to be a well-known benefactor of five Harvard degree programs and known to both Edy and Ali, was said to have insisted on Wyatt’s treatment before recognizing him as an heir. While others at South End High could only speculate as to what mental health concerns Wyatt had—and speculate they did—only Edy and Hassan knew about Wyatt attacking his cousin. But what had her old friend done to his cousin exactly? What was he capable of doing? Whatever it was—however complete the attack—Edy knew that he could have done the same to her. Maybe Hassan and the Dyson boys’ overprotective streak had worked in her favor, after all.
And now he was there at LSU.
Back when he was hospitalized, Wyatt had told her, had convinced her, that he had nothing but hatred for Edy. She’d ruined him in ways she couldn’t understand. Loving her had ruined him. Now he was back in their midst. She only wished she knew why.
Edy made it to class first and slipped into her seat. Hardly a minute passed before Hassan dropped into the seat next to her. When he looked at her, his glare made her recoil.
He had nerve. Especially after screwing her and hopping off to do better, more important things. She’d done just what he asked. She’d shoved aside her obligations for him and oh, how she’d paid for it. Other people paid for it too. What in the world did he have to be mad about?
She decided she didn’t care. After all the stress of figuring out how to spend time with him, only to have him not appreciate her efforts, she couldn’t give a ripe damn about whatever had him pissed. She was pissed. He didn’t have a monopoly on temper tantrums.
“Well?” Hassan snapped. “Have you got anything to say to me?”
Oh, she could smack him just now.
When she didn’t answer, Hassan’s mouth pressed to a crease and the bits of his ears that peeked out from overflowing hair turned red around the edges. “Cool,” he said as if absolutely nothing was cool. “I’ll remember this.”
It sounded like a threat.
“You’ll remember what?” Edy snapped and turned to face him. Her blood practically gushed through her veins, boiling and burning and threatening to rupture her fury.
He flipped to Punjabi. “That I tried to talk this over with you and you…” He shook his head, trailing off.
“We’re in class!” Edy cried. Now she couldn’t ignore the eyes turned in their direction. Sure, they couldn’t understand what was being said, but they felt the fury vaulting between the two.
“Fine,” Hassan said. “After class, then? I’ve got an hour to spare.”
Edy looked away. “Well, I don’t. I had more than an hour to spare when me and my teammates went to the trouble of sneaking you into my room. Had I known it was all for you to get off, I wouldn’t have bothered.”
His face blotched red. “What? You weren’t into that? If not, you should have told your body.”
“You left!”
“And you’re busy!”
“Like you aren’t!”
“And where the hell do you even sleep? In some new boyfriend’s room?”
Edy’s fist curled around her pen as if she might use it to gouge something. “Be serious.”
“As much as we’re enjoying this passionate Bollywood cinema, you’ve forgotten to provide us with subtitles. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to start class,” their professor said from the front of the room.
“I have an hour after class,” Hassan said in English.
“I can’t.” And she really had no business talking to him. There was still the Iowa game to look forward to. If she could get through that without issue, then the den would be a thing of the past and she could really spend time with Hassan. Just a little more time, she wanted to tell him. Couldn’t he make that sacrifice for her?
Then low, so low she nearly didn’t hear it, Hassan said, “You play games. You’d better believe that I’m getting tired of it.”
She shot him a look of puzzled disbelief, then made a point of ignoring Hassan for the rest of class. Afterwards, she swept past him without a word.
Iowa came. Hassan managed to start and put up impressive numbers. Edy put in a flawless appearance that Saturday, and afterwards she and her teammates were rewarded with Tamela’s declaration that they were full-fledged members of the team and would no longer be submitted to the den. It was Faye who screamed first, followed by Cassie, then Naomi, and eventually they were shrieking and clinging to each other and falling in a single tumble to the stadium parking lot’s pavement. Older dancers who Edy had never met w
andered up to them with congratulations; they had been in attendance at the game. Strange girls and familiar ones hugged Edy and, for the first time in her life, she not only didn’t care—she welcomed it.
She had done it. She was part of something. Truly, part of something. There was no one she wanted to tell more than Hassan.
And this meant that she’d have more time for him. Briefly, she thought of the argument they’d had in English class. But that had been nothing. They were Hassan and Edy, after all. They forgave each other endlessly.
“We’re celebrating tonight, girls!” London cried and threw an arm around Edy and Naomi. “Get cute and ready to party!”
“Too late on both counts!” a middle-aged guy cupped his mouth and called as he passed. More than a few of Edy’s teammates giggled. Cassie waved until Edy reached around Naomi and smacked her arm down.
They had two hours to get dressed for some off campus party that promised to be stellar. London swore a guy with a ton of cash to blow and way too many friends had invited them. She’d promised they’d make an appearance. And so they did.
Chapter Nineteen
The dance music flowed tonight, courtesy of a DJ who had become Wyatt’s friend. Already his bit of living room had turned into a dance floor, crowded though it was as more and more poured in. He’d relied on liquor more so than beer for this all-nighter, though he hadn’t been able to toss the kegs because, well, there were girls who did keg stands. Their shirts would fly up as they got plastered, and hell, Wyatt couldn’t have been the only guy who ogled them desperately.
He was a modest guy and didn’t always feel comfortable in the crowds he created with night after night of parties. These days, he kept company round the clock, and someone was always plastered—himself included. There were his constant friends: Solomon, Mateo, Lincoln, Tristan, and of course, Kennedy. Wyatt hadn’t gotten any further with the tallish, copper-haired girl, but she had thrown hints that she might be interested in rounding the bases with him. So far, Wyatt had feigned ignorance after every brush of the hand and flirt that came this way.
Wrecked (Love Edy Book Three) Page 14