3. Julian
JULIAN
I ’m trying to stay as calm as I can. I watch as she opens her contacts, her fingers shaking as she types in the first name. “Lucy” flashes on the screen. It rings a few times, but no answer. Someone named Maddie is next, but she doesn’t answer either. Spencer is next, and while his call goes directly to voicemail, he texts her back immediately.
“He’s okay,” she breathes. “He is locked in the arts building with his graphic design class. They’ve been in there for three hours,” she reads. “He’s talked to a few of my other friends too.”
I see her scroll back through her texts, sending some off to the people who didn’t answer. She stares down at the screen for a few moments, willing it to light up, but it doesn’t. Finally, I put my hand on top of the phone.
“Hey,” I say, and she looks up at me. “It doesn’t mean they’re not alive. Phones could be dead, cell towers down…there are no answers yet.”
I’m trying like hell to sound convincing. Statistically, her friends are most likely alive. Carrington University is a tiny little school in Connecticut that has gotten the reputation over the last few years of being almost as hard to get into as the Ivy Leagues. It’s small, but out of twenty thousand kids, statistically, her friends are hopefully okay.
“Hungry?” I ask. She’s been with me for hours, and she hasn’t even mentioned food. She shrugs.
“Not really,” she says. I know I should encourage her to eat, but I’m letting her set the pace right now. I want to ask her questions: figure out how she ended up on the East Coast, figure out why she ended up at Carrington, learn more about her. She’s a tiny little thing, her short black hair tied up in a knot on her head, her dark-green eyes streaked and bloodshot. “Is there any news on flights yet?”
I shake my head.
“Not yet,” I say. “But my people are on it. Checking in on the hour, every hour, until we can get her on a plane.”
She nods.
“Thank you, Julian,” she says, biting her bottom lip. “For all of this.”
I lean forward, putting my hand on hers again.
“Thank you , Sawyer,” I say. “Did you decide where you want to stay?”
She clears her throat and tucks a stray curl behind her ear.
“If it’s okay with you, I’ll just stay here,” she says. I nod, fighting a smile. I was hoping she’d say that. I want to keep an eye on her, although I don’t really know why.
“Of course,” I say. “The suite is yours.” She smiles and nods.
“I think I’m going to try to sleep,” she says, standing slowly from the couch. I stand with her.
“Of course,” I say again. “If you need anything at all, I’m the door down the hall. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen you want, anytime you want. And Sawyer?”
Her big eyes look up to me.
“I’m right here, okay? You’re not alone.”
She smiles slightly and nods then heads for the stairs.
I’ve been lying in my bed for about two hours now, staring out at the city. I haven’t had much time to do my own processing because I’ve been so distracted by Sawyer’s. The adrenaline has kicked in again, making me wired and jumpy. If I had stepped onto that campus just a few moments earlier or a few moments later…who knows. That might have been it for me. I check my phone every few minutes, seeing if Tierra was able to make Emily’s reservation, but nothing.
And then I hear a loud crash from down the hall, and I’m on my feet in a moment, heart racing. I knock on her door and wait a beat, but there’s no response. I turn the handle and find that she didn’t lock it. When I open it, I see her crouching down on the ground, picking up pieces of a broken vase. The light from the hallway hits her perfectly, and I see the tears in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks.
“I’m so sorry if I woke you,” she says, trying to steady her voice. “I was trying to get to the bathroom, but I ran into the dresser and knocked the vase off. I’m sorry. I’ll get this cleaned up—” she says, looking down at the mess. I walk across the room slowly so I don’t scare her, and when I reach her, I bend down and grab her wrists. I pull her gently to her feet and lead her a few steps away from the glass. I look down at her for a moment, and then I pull her into my chest. I cradle her head against my bare skin, and I feel her arms snake around my body as she finally gives in. She sobs into me, her tears streaming down my stomach. We stand like this for what feels like hours but, in reality, is only a few minutes. When she’s calmed down some, I get her some tissues from the bathroom and lead her to the bed. I pat it for her to sit down, and then I clean up the glass and flowers and blot the water up with a towel.
She’s still sitting as still as a statue when I walk over to the bedside and grab the remote from the nightstand. I turn on the TV and look at her.
“When I was a kid, this is what I’d watch with my grandfather when I couldn’t sleep,” I tell her. I turn on episode one of Cheers, and I let the bright colors and warming theme song fill the room. Then I pull the armchair next to the bed closer to it. “Is it okay if I stay in here and watch with you for a bit?”
She nods, looking up at me through puffy eyes, the tears still gleaming on her face. I scoot closer to her then turn the volume up some and put my feet up on the ottoman. She slides her hand farther across the bed in my direction, leaving it at the edge, and without saying anything, I put mine on hers. As soon as I do, I feel her clutch onto me. She doesn’t need words right now. She just needs to know someone is there. And that’s going to be me. After a few minutes, she finally drifts off to sleep. I lean forward, careful not to move our hands and disturb her, getting slightly closer to her. I stroke her hair gently, staring at her, wondering all there is to know about this beautiful young woman in front of me.
I don’t know anything about her, but I do know that I’d do anything to take away the stain that this day will leave on the rest of her life.