CRAIG
CRAIG
“So, this is where you’ve been hiding.” Naz’s voice at my back very nearly topples the precariously piled folders from my arms. “I’ve started to think you’re avoiding us.”
“Shit, man! Sneak attack much?” I stall for a moment to readjust my load, working up a smile before turning. “What —”
“Hey, Princess.”
My smile never gets the chance to take. “The hell are you doing here?”
“Yeah, I know, right?” Behind Naz, Gary grins at me. He’s idling by the Local History shelves along the far end of the aisle, and his languid gaze pricks my skin. “What are the odds?”
Small.
Infinitesimally small.
Or so I’d thought. And the smug look on his vexing face says he knows it.
“You were missed at the pit last night,” Naz fails to distract my attention, continuing to close in on me.
I’m stepping backwards, not realising it until my hip collides with the corner of a desk behind me.
Evading Gary hasn’t been easy, considering he’s infiltrated the majority of my classes. Still, I’ve succeeded for almost an entire week, and it’s mostly thanks to this quiet spot I sought out in the deepest depths of the college library.
Three of my five tutors have consented to my absence from their classrooms, for the short-term, on the condition my submitted work at each day’s end reflects the merit of my private studies. I get time-stamped in by the Librarian first thing and time-stamped out whenever I leave, barely needing to speak to a single soul, and honestly, I’ve never felt so content anywhere else on these grounds.
Of course, it was too good to last.
Catching my elbow, Naz attempts to steady me. “Whoa there, you feeling alright?”
“Peachy,” I say, shirking him off.
Casual good humour shapes his expression as he pulls back just barely clear of my personal space. “What’s your excuse, then?”
“What?”
“Scotty’s New Ride celebration. Seriously, dude,” a hand slaps my shoulder, “he was mighty damn pissed you didn’t show.”
I don’t know Naz well enough to determine whether he’s genuinely oblivious to the tension thickening the air here or he simply couldn’t care less about it.
But, either way, I don’t have the patience to spare him. “Oh, right. That.” I turn aside, off-loading my stack of work onto the desk and shaking out my arms. The severity of my grip had become painful. “As if he won’t be hosting another inside of six months.”
“Shame, though, Lawton,” Gary refuses to be snubbed. “It was epic!” And my stomach sours as I realise that yet another of my safe zones has been breached. “Your boy, Scotty, is a fucking maniac.”
Naz laughs. “The speed he hit Deadman’s Hook, I swear, I’ve never come so close to shitting myself!”
“Pussy.”
“Fuck off. You looked ready to cry.”
Pulling a thick-spined book from the shelf beside him, Gary torpedoes it our way. “Wait until it’s my turn to take the wheel,” he taunts, snorting appreciatively as his missile completely bypasses Naz and strikes my upper thigh—too close on the bullseye to be a misfire.
With my tongue firmly clamped behind pressed lips, I am careful not to react. My eyes flick beyond his bulk to the stairs and my sole route of escape. The invasion of this secluded den is one thing; it was only ever purposed as a temporary refuge. But a little shy of turning seventeen, Gary has no license, never mind a car, and I had counted on the Pit being mine for some while longer.
I jolt when Naz clips my shoulder again. “Come on, dude, brighten up, wouldya? Like you said, there’ll be plenty other nights,” he misreads me.
And my head shakes because no, there definitely won’t—not now. “I better shoot. I’ve got Mr Porter in ten.”
“Skip. Not like it would be a first.”
“What, and take a drive off a precipice for shits and giggles?” I scoff.
His dark gaze instantly loses its glint. “Ouch,” he says, looking at Gary. “Sounds like a certain someone’s feeling bitter.”
Not in any mood to linger and prolong my torment, I brusquely reclaim my folders and skirt past him. “I’ll see you around.”
Naz doesn’t stop me.
Gary, however, does.
Straightening from his prop against the bookcase, he steps directly into my path and throws out his arm as I attempt to swerve. “Whoa, where’s the fire, twinkle-toes?” His meaty fist grasps my shirt. “You’ve got ten minutes to spare, right? And I have a small favour to ask.”
“Not now.” Not ever. I hold myself very still in his grip, my hands clenched around the binders. “Seriously, I’ve got to go.”
He yanks me around. “Let’s walk, then.”
“Am I missing something here?” Naz starts toward us, finally seeming to pick up the ugly vibe.
But Gary waves him off, flashing a genial smile as deceptive as my dad’s. “It's just a bit of family business he can’t bail on,” he says. “I’ll catch you at lunch.”
I’m not released until he’s got me to the top of the stairs, onto the library’s main floor. Naz hasn’t followed. It’s a whole lot busier up here, with plenty of witnesses milling around the shelves and the desks and the reading cubbies. He doesn’t leave me be for long, though, slugging an arm across my shoulders before I can even think of bolting. Then, I’m manoeuvred leisurely across the broad room.
My skin crawls beneath his touch, and I squirm. “We’ve sod all to talk about, Tinwell!”
Snagging a couple of folders from my hold, he tucks them under his free arm and chuckles as he feels me stiffen. “You’re never more than a wrong breath away from cuffing me, are you?”
“What do you want?”
“I told you. A favour. A you-scratch-my-back-and-I’ll-scratch-yours type of deal.”
“Oh, sure, yeah,” I snarl. “Not interested.”
“Just a little bit of help here, Lawton, that’s all I’m asking. The workload is insane, and it’s really starting to interfere with my downtime, you know?” He swings the hostage binders up as if presenting his case in point. “Of course, you know.”
I gesture behind me, back toward the stairs and my lost sanctuary, countering: “You already have someone to help there.” Someone who is a model student, top of our class, who chose Law for himself and has a passion for his studies. “Why on earth would you need me?”
“Ah, now there’s the question!”
We reach the grand, glass-fronted doors. Gary holds off until I push one open and he steers me through it.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he says as we descend the stone steps to the courtyard. “Naz is great. A truly invaluable friend. But the thing is, I have no dirt on him. And see, without the leverage of any nasty, shameful filth, there’s only so much I can convince him to —”
I stop abruptly, twisting and ducking, but he seizes my shirt again before I take more than a step away, hauling me straight back into his side.
“At least hear me out, for fuck’s sake!” A drop of spittle flies from his lips.
A few passing students look our way as he cuts off the walkway to drive me over the lawn, and belatedly, I realise I didn’t get my timestamp out of the library. Damn!
“Except, I’ve been keeping squeaky clean lately, Tinwell. Unlucky.”
“Oh, really?” The smirk he slides across makes me feel far less sure of myself. “Guess your parents are fully aware of the truck parts you bought from Scotty, then, huh? For your farmer, right?”
Incredulity triggers a humourless bark from me because if that is all he’s got, he’s dredging. “So? So, I sorted some parts for a friend. Big whoop.”
“ Friend , is it? Okay, totally. But this friend of yours sure as shit doesn’t have six-hundred quid to his name, does he?” His fingertips are gouging into my collarbone. “So, that’s a mighty fine chunk of gift you’ve given him, Cupcake. Bet he was real appreciative when you went that extra mile and fitted it, too.”
“Whatever.” It doesn’t matter. He still doesn’t have enough for what he’s asking. “This isn’t going to work,” I disabuse him. “I can barely stand my own studies. There’s no threat you can make that’ll have me agreeing to take on yours as well.”
We cross back onto the pavement, moving away from the courtyard. The Gregory building looms ahead. I breathe a little easier, my destination in sight.
“No, no,” Gary chuckles. “You misunderstand! All I’m expecting of you is a seat beside you in class and open access to your notes. And in return,” he bends his head in discomfortingly close, “I’m willing to proofread your essays before you submit them.”
Turning my face from him, I crane my neck in a desperate bid for distance. “I fail to see anything in that deal for me.”
“I’ll also keep my mouth shut,” he goes on, lowering his tone to a menacing thrum. “Gotta give you credit, Lawton. It was a ballsy move, bringing your lover home to meet the family. Stupid, though, even with the tag-along.”
“Screw you,” I brilliantly object, beyond done. “Bastian’s not…”
My mistake hits too late for recovery. “Bastian’s not what?” His grin is that of the fox who duped the gingerbread man. “Your immediate thought at the word lover ? Because, blatantly, that’s untrue.” I’m set free, and I stagger as my folders are flung back to me. “But then, as if I’d ever buy into something going on between you and Cray-Shay.”
“You’re so full of bull!”
He walks backwards away from me, pinning me with his deranged leer. “Let’s see how long you can hold my silence, should we?”