Chapter One — Everybody Loves Elliot #2
“Because Hannibal Lecter is more interesting than diagnostic criteria.”
The room laughed. Professor Adler smiled despite himself.
“Essentially.”
Claire leaned toward Elliot.
“Freak.”
Elliot whispered, “You asked for my notes last week.”
“I can exploit your freakishness while judging it.”
Professor Adler continued. Elliot finally checked his phone beneath the desk. Two messages.
RONAN: Don't forget dinner tonight.
Then:
RONAN: Mom said 7. Which means 6:45 unless you want to hear about punctuality for forty minutes.
Elliot typed:
ELLIOT: thought you weren't bringing my charger
The response arrived almost instantly.
RONAN: I'm not.
ELLIOT: then I'll probably die before dinner
RONAN: Fingers crossed.
Elliot stared at the message. Warmth settled somewhere low in his chest. He typed:
ELLIOT: love you too
Three dots appeared. Elliot waited. They disappeared.
He smiled. Typical. Professor Adler continued talking.
Claire was taking notes now. Elliot set his phone facedown.
Forty-three minutes later, class ended. The hallway filled immediately.
Elliot and Claire joined the stream heading toward the stairs.
“Lunch?” she asked.
“Can't.”
“Why?”
“Meeting.”
“With?”
“Professor Langley.”
Claire groaned.
“You're such a fucking teacher's pet.”
“He asked me.”
“Because you're a teacher's pet.”
They reached the first floor. Someone opened the exterior doors ahead of them. Cold air rushed inside. Claire pulled her sleeves over her hands.
“Coffee later?”
“You already bought me one.”
“That wasn't the question.”
“Text me.”
She pointed at him.
“That means no.”
“It means text me.”
“It means you'll ignore me.”
“Probably.”
“Asshole.”
“Love you.”
“Unfortunately.”
Elliot stopped. Claire kept walking for several steps before realizing he wasn't beside her. She turned.
“What?”
Elliot stared at her.
“Nothing.”
She frowned.
“You're weird.”
“I've been told.”
Claire walked backward toward the quad.
“Text me.”
“I will.”
“You're lying.”
“Bye, Claire.”
She flipped him off and turned around. Elliot smiled.
Then he saw Ronan. Everything else disappeared.
He was standing across Hawthorne Quad beside a black motorcycle, one boot planted on the curb and his arms folded across his chest. At six-three, Ronan rarely disappeared into crowds anyway, but he seemed particularly out of place among Bellweather students.
Black jeans. Black boots. Dark charcoal shirt beneath a worn leather jacket.
His hair was nearly black and slightly too long on top, pushed backward as though he'd repeatedly dragged his fingers through it.
Tattoos disappeared beneath both sleeves and reappeared along the fingers of his left hand.
A helmet hung from one hand. Elliot's charger dangled from the other. Elliot smiled. Ronan saw him.
His expression did not change. That was Ronan's version of smiling in public. Elliot crossed the quad.
“Thought you weren't bringing it.”
Ronan held out the charger.
“I got tired of imagining you bitching about three percent battery.”
“How thoughtful.”
“Don't make it weird.”
Elliot took the cable. Their fingers brushed. Nothing unusual. Nothing anybody watching would notice. Elliot noticed. He always noticed.
“You came all the way here for this?”
“I was nearby.”
“You weren't.”
Ronan's eyes narrowed.
“How do you know?”
“Your studio is fourteen minutes west.”
“You're creepy.”
“You love me.”
“Debatable.”
Elliot stepped closer. Ronan smelled like cold air, leather, and the cedar soap he used because Elliot had bought it once and Ronan had apparently decided purchasing another kind would require too much emotional vulnerability.
Elliot wanted to touch him. Couldn't. Not here.
Instead he reached up and adjusted the collar of Ronan's jacket.
The gesture was innocent. Brotherly. Ronan's eyes dropped to Elliot's hand. That wasn't.
“Don't,” Ronan said quietly.
Elliot smiled.
“Your collar was folded.”
“You don't give a shit about my collar.”
“No.”
Ronan caught his wrist. Only for a second. His thumb pressed against Elliot's pulse. Then released. Elliot's smile changed. Ronan noticed. Of course he did.
“You're being annoying.”
“You drove twenty minutes to bring me a charger.”
“I'm reconsidering it.”
“Too late.”
A voice called from behind them.
“Ronan!”
Ronan looked past Elliot. Elliot turned. A man was approaching across the quad. Tall. Athletic. Brown hair. Confident smile. Elliot knew the face but not the name. The stranger stopped beside them.
“Didn't know you came to Bellweather.”
“I don't,” Ronan said.
“Clearly.”
His attention shifted toward Elliot. Ronan spoke before Elliot could.
“My stepbrother. Elliot.”
Recognition immediately appeared.
“Oh. Elliot Mercer.”
Elliot smiled.
“Apparently.”
The guy laughed.
“Dylan.”
He held out his hand. Elliot shook it. Dylan Price.
Now Elliot remembered. He'd seen him twice at Merrick parties.
Maybe three times. Dylan's hand lingered slightly longer than necessary.
Not on Elliot. On Ronan. A casual touch to Ronan's arm as he turned back toward him. Tiny. Meaningless. Probably.
“You still coming Friday?” Dylan asked.
Ronan shrugged.
“Maybe.”
“You said yes.”
“I said maybe.”
“You absolutely said yes.”
Ronan almost smiled. Elliot watched him. Something small tightened beneath Elliot's ribs. Dylan looked at Elliot.
“You should come too.”
Elliot smiled pleasantly.
“Maybe.”
“See? Your brother gets it.”
Stepbrother. Elliot didn't correct him. Dylan's phone rang. He checked the screen.
“Fuck. I gotta take this.”
He backed away.
“Friday.”
Ronan lifted one shoulder. Dylan pointed at him.
“That's a yes.”
Then he disappeared toward the student center. Elliot watched until he was gone. Ronan watched Elliot.
“Don't.”
Elliot turned.
“Don't what?”
“That.”
“I didn't do anything.”
“You're doing it right now.”
Elliot smiled. Ronan sighed.
“Jesus Christ.”
“What?”
“He's a friend.”
“I didn't ask.”
“You were about to.”
“No, I wasn't.”
“You hate him.”
“I've spoken to him for approximately twenty seconds.”
“And you've hated him for nineteen.” Elliot looked toward the student center. Dylan had disappeared inside. “I don't hate him.” Ronan stared. Elliot looked back at him. “What?”
“You're such a fucking liar.” Elliot smiled. There it was.
The version of himself nobody else noticed. Nobody except Ronan. Ronan stepped closer. Not enough to attract attention. Enough that Elliot felt the heat of him against the cold morning.
“Behave.”
The word was quiet. Elliot's eyes dropped briefly to Ronan's mouth. Then returned to his. “I always behave.” Ronan's expression changed. Barely. But Elliot saw it.
“That's what worries me.” He put on his helmet.
Elliot stepped back. Ronan swung one leg over the motorcycle and started the engine.
The noise filled the quad. Several students looked over.
Elliot didn't. He was still thinking about Dylan's hand on Ronan's arm.
Ronan flipped the visor down. Elliot lifted the charger.
“Thanks.” Ronan raised two fingers in acknowledgment.
Then he pulled away from the curb. Elliot watched until the motorcycle disappeared beyond Whitmore Hall.
His phone vibrated. A university alert filled the screen.
BELLWEATHER UNIVERSITY CAMPUS SAFETY
The Bellweather Police Department is requesting information regarding missing student Mason Kerr, age twenty-two, last seen Saturday at approximately 1:40 A.M. near the 400 block of Bellweather Avenue.
Students with information are asked to contact Bellweather Police.
A photograph appeared beneath the message.
Mason smiling into a camera. Perfect teeth.
Perfect hair. Everybody's friend. Elliot studied the photograph for several seconds.
Then locked his phone. Across the quad, someone shouted his name.
Elliot turned. A group of students waved him over.
His smile returned effortlessly. He walked toward them. Everybody loved Elliot Mercer.