Unfiltered & Unsaved (3 page)

He wasn’t even looking toward her. And she thought he looked a little sad, but that might have just been her imagination.

She let herself feel a little safer, just a little, although now it felt as if a spotlight was shining directly on her, and every stray glance from strangers meant they
knew
something, or at least
suspected
something
.
She heard a siren out on the street, beyond the ASU Rio Verde campus, and her heart hammered into high gear, sending painful prickles of adrenaline up and down her arms. She froze in the shadow of a building and listened as the sound dopplered higher, then lower and slower as it passed.

Not for her, then.

Yet.

She walked quickly back to her dorm. The lobby held the usual mix of students making out and students studying, nodding along to their headphones; she hurried past all of them, ducked into the elevator, and headed up to her floor.

It was quiet. Blessedly quiet. All the doors were shut, and as she walked toward hers, she heard nothing … no moaning, no bed squeaking, no sign of Brittany’s presence at all.

Hope sucked in a deep breath and put the key in the lock … the wrong one, of course; she had three that looked alike and she never could pick the right one under stress. Once again, she reminded herself to mark it with nail polish or something, but she knew she’d forget as soon as she made it into the room. Especially today, when she could hardly pull herself together at all. Her hands shook, and she bit her lip on a sudden, unexpected sob.

Come on, Hope. Hold it together. You can cry once you’re inside.
Provided Brittany wasn’t there, of course; she couldn’t cry in front of her roommate. That would mean exposing herself to far too much ridicule, and she couldn’t shrug it off right now the way she’d been able to before. Hope felt like a balloon full of misery in a world full of sharp edges. It would only take a tiny cut for all that black despair to just come pouring out. Again. Elijah had seen it in her, bubbling under the surface. She had to learn to hide it better.

The lip-biting thing wasn’t working. Her hands continued to shake, and she took in a deep, exasperated breath to try to steady herself.

The door to the stairs behind her opened with a slow wheeze, and she cast a glance over her shoulder as she tried the next key.

Somehow, she’d known it would be Elijah. That was both creepy and comforting in equal measure.

As soon as he saw her, the young man stopped and held up both hands in an
I surrender
gesture. “I know, I know, it looks bad,” he said. “I’m sorry, honest. I’m not stalking you. Look, I can’t take all this cash. The magazine’s actually just twenty, but I told you forty because—yeah, because I’m a scumbag sometimes, and I’m trying to save some money to get the hell out of this gig. I was going to slip the rest under your door. That’s the truth, I swear to God. I didn’t even know you were here. You said you were going to class.”

He looked so worried that she might scream that she lost any desire to, and instead felt a surge of guilt. She
had
lied to him, after all. And without much of a qualm, either, because all she’d thought about was getting out of there, both for safety and to cry in peace.

The urge to cry seemed to have receded , thankfully, but her paranoia was once again trying to surge. She took a deep breath. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” she said. “You were being perfectly nice and I flaked out. I … haven’t been sleeping really well. I think I’m not myself.”

“I understand that,” he said. “Lack of sleep, I mean. Seems like I never really get enough.” He laughed a little, but it didn’t sound amused. He did seem tired, she realized. There were subtle signs of it, shadows around his eyes that she recognized in herself. “Can I give this back …?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out folded bills, which he offered.

“Keep it,” she said. “It’s okay. Honest. I’d rather you have it.”

His arm sagged down a little, but he didn’t put the cash away. “Are you sure? I don’t want to rip you off if you need it.”

She knew how she looked. She always tried to dress neatly, and today she was wearing a khaki skirt that ended at her knees and a plain white button-down, but the skirt was old and well-washed, and her walking shoes were scuffed and clearly in need of replacement. The shirt’s cuffs were fraying. She looked like what she had been a couple of days ago: a poor, struggling college student working hard to pay for her education.

She also looked like she’d slept in these clothes, and in fact, she had. More than once.

A (probably) sketchy guy selling magazines was feeling sorry for her and trying to give
her
money. What would be next? The homeless offering to spot her a meal?

Hope couldn’t help it: she laughed. It started out as a burst of uncontrolled, wild amusement—bitter and black, but still there—and then she couldn’t stop, even when she covered her mouth with one hand. She felt out of control and shaky, and even though she was standing on the solid floor of the dorm, she felt as if it was ice, cracking under her feet. Slick, treacherous ice and a bottomless drop into the cold, cold deep.

She just … grayed out. She wasn’t aware of falling, but suddenly she came back to herself with her back against the door of her room, the keys swaying gently in the lock above her head, and Elijah was crouched in front of her.

Oh. She was sitting down now. He looked worried, and his palm was so warm where it cupped her face. His lips were moving. She couldn’t really put together what he was saying, but it was nice to watch. He had full lips, and she wondered if he would taste of tea. That would be interesting. She wanted to reach out and touch those lips, see if they were as soft and smooth as they looked. She really liked his mouth.

After a few seconds, the soft edges around things hardened, and she became aware of her heart hammering hard inside her chest, and the rigid surface of the door behind her, and a dull ache at the back of her head. She’d smacked herself silly on the way down, she guessed.

She was aware of the sheer animal heat of Elijah’s body just inches away, his knees brushing hers, but she still couldn’t make sense of what he was saying, only that he was trying to help her up. She didn’t have the energy to manage it, but he was strong; she felt herself being lifted without any conscious effort at all, and then she was leaning against his chest, soaking in his warmth, and she couldn’t think of anything else at all except how
good
that felt. How
safe
, to be looked after and cared for.

He must have found the right key, because the door at her back suddenly opened, and she started to sag backward until he grabbed her tight around the waist and balanced her. He walked her inside, and for the first time a little bolt of panic went through her.
Did he spike my water somehow? Did he drug me?
It was a constant, low-level hum around campus, that a lot of the guys, frat guys in particular, carried Special K around for parties, but Elijah hadn’t seemed like that kind of guy, and she didn’t
feel
drugged, exactly. Just weak and shaky. He wasn’t groping her, either; he carefully eased her onto her neatly made bed with his hands in entirely respectful places, then went back in the hall to retrieve her backpack, which he leaned against the dresser.

He left the door open, which it took her long seconds to realize was a deliberate effort to make her feel comfortable with him being in her room. Or maybe just to avoid being caught in a situation that might look pretty bad, though that was the cynical way to look at it, and she didn’t feel particularly cynical at the moment. Her head still felt stuffed with hazy clouds.

“Hope?” It took her a while to realize he was saying her name, but then the world snapped into hard focus again. Too bad, because she’d liked it better when it was a softer, kinder place. “Hope, do you need a doctor? Should I call 911?”

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry. That was dumb.”

“For what, collapsing? Scaring the crap out of me?” He grabbed a blanket and covered her with it, and only then did she realize how cold she felt. “What the hell was that?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just felt really weak. I haven’t been feeling very well.”

“Maybe it’s low blood sugar. When’s the last time you had something to eat?”

She couldn’t remember. She remembered a mouthful of something like sawdust back in the distant past. Probably one of her energy bars from the go bag, and it seemed like at least a day ago. She hadn’t felt hungry, but now that he said something about it, her stomach clenched, and she realized that the faintness and weakness had something to do with that after all. No wonder she felt so dizzy and distant.

Elijah was shaking his head. He bent down, unzipped his own backpack, and pressed an energy bar into her hands. When she stared at it without real comprehension, he took it back and unwrapped it. “Eat,” he said. “Come on, Hope. Small bites, and chew it slowly.”

He sounded like he knew what he was talking about, and she supposed she ought to have known, too, but it felt as if her body and brain were severely disconnected just now. She took a tentative bite of the bar and chewed—slowly at first, then more enthusiastically as the first tingles of proteins, carbs, and sugars began to make their way into her system. She let out a little moan of relief, closed her eyes, and savored the sensation of life coming back into her. She hadn’t realized how much of her body had shut down until it started roaring back to life.

She ate the rest of the bar until all that was left was the crinkly metallic wrapper. She was tempted to lick it clean, but that seemed like it might give him the wrong impression, and now that the crisis was over she felt humiliated … it had been bad enough to freak out on him at the University Center, but collapsing in front of her own door and having to be dragged inside? Pathetic. She could hear what Brittany would have said about it, if Brittany had witnessed any of it. Which, thank God, she hadn’t.

“Is there somebody I should call for you?” Elijah asked her. “Friends, maybe? I just don’t want to leave you by yourself. You still don’t look too steady.”

She didn’t? Funny, she felt better now, stronger by the second. “I’ll be all right,” she told him, and smiled. This time, it felt more real to her, less like pasting an emoticon on her face. “Thank you for helping me. I guess I needed it.”

“Glad I was around,” he said. He was watching her with an unnerving amount of focus; she wondered if he was looking for signs of brain damage or just another unscheduled collapse. “Hope—look, about the money. You should be more careful carrying that kind of cash around.”

“I’m sorry. I thought they were twenties. It was just a mistake.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter,” he said. “I thought you were on something at first, the way you were jacked up nervous. But that isn’t it, is it? You’re just scared.”

Scared out of my mind,
she thought, but the words stuck in her throat. Once she admitted that, she was going to have to tell him why she was scared, and that would lead to talking about the backpack, and then The Coffee Cave, and the dead man, and she just … couldn’t. Better to say nothing than to say everything. At least, that was the theory.

In practice, the words battered at her insides so hard she wrapped her arms around her stomach, willing them to stop.

“Are you going to throw up?” Elijah asked. It sounded practical, like he’d dealt with it before. A lot, maybe. “I can get you a trash can.”

“No,” she said quickly with a shake of her head to reinforce it. “No, I’m fine.” As if a pale, fainting, scared girl wasn’t unattractive enough already, adding vomit would drive him away for sure, and she wasn’t ready for that. Wasn’t ready to be alone again with that hard black bubble of despair inside her, ready to burst. She had to admit, having someone here, someone caring, made a difference, even if he was a complete stranger. A stranger with a possible agenda, though if that was the case, wouldn’t he have closed the door? He could have ripped her off easily. He could have done anything he’d wanted.

“You don’t look fine,” E.J. said, and then his face took on an expression of pure chagrin. “I didn’t mean that. I mean, I don’t think you’re fully recovered yet. You look great, is what I mean. Just a little shaky. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“No,” she said. “I can’t. I swear, it’s okay, though. Really. I do appreciate what you did for me.”

“Hey, you did give me a hell of a good tip; it was the least I could do.” He hesitated for a second, then said, “I guess I should get going. It’s getting close to my time for pickup.”

“Pickup?”

From the flash of a frown, he wished he hadn’t said that. “I mean, my ride. I shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

“So that means no dinner?”

She’d surprised him, she saw that, though he covered it with a quick, dimpled grin. “You
are
feeling better, I guess. Look, can I rain check it? I really do have to get back. Sorry. Next time.”

“Okay,” she said. “Well, you’ve got the number. I mean, on the magazine sheet. So you can call if you feel like lunch or something.”

He was going to say something else, but right about then, the elevator dinged, and Hope turned to look out of the room and down the hall.

Well, crap.

Her roommate had arrived. She wasn’t a tall girl, but she was definitely striking … she worked damn hard at it, from the stiletto heels to the illegally short cutoffs to the not-quite-matching hair extensions. She headed for the room with (of course) a guy hot on her trail, and she walked like a runway model, full of fierce attitude.

At least until she staggered a little. So she was already somewhere on the drunk scale.

“What the hell is going on here, J.C.? Having a party without me?” Brittany breezed in the door and flung herself down on her unmade bed. Somehow, she made it look sexy and messy at the same time.

Elijah gave Brittany a long look, then said to Hope, “J.C.?”

“It’s short for Jesus Christ, which she thinks she is,” Brittany answered. She squirmed and then sat up on the bed, tanned long legs crossed. As she leaned forward, her full breasts almost spilled right out of the low-cut hot pink top. It had printing on it that read IF YOU CAN READ THIS, KEEP LOOKING. “Because she’s such a martyr, get it? What up, girl, you’re bringing man candy back to the room now? That’s my deal, not yours.”