Strength (Mark of Nexus #1) (10 page)

His lips twisted back. “Yeah? Better be careful.”

I gave a taunting little finger-wave as the doors began to close, cutting us off from each other. “Always am.”

And with that, I practically flew down the hall. Scrunchie or no scrunchie, I was going back to my room. I unlocked the door and rushed inside, caught up in my own momentum.

“What on earth are you wearing?” Gabby lounged across her bed, having already sent her partner on his merry way. That would’ve been nice to know a few hours ago.

I threw my coat over the back of my chair and reached inside to grab my phone.

“Funny.” I scanned the screen. “I don’t see any missed calls from you. Not even a text.” I set the phone down on my desk, giving her a pointed stare.

“Aww, you’re not going to be like that, are you?” She sat up, protruding her bottom lip. “We were all drinking. It’s not like I did it on purpose.”

“Uh huh.” I unzipped my boots, set them aside, and crawled onto my bed. “What happened to bros before hoes?”

She scrunched her nose. “Only applies to guys, Ree.” Her eyes flicked back to my outfit. “So, seriously, what’s with the baggy man-clothes? Whose are they?”

I shrugged. “Who says they aren’t mine?” Oh, she would suffer through this. She would suffer, and I would enjoy it.

“You’re swimming in them! They’re not yours. Besides, you didn’t even come home last night.” She rubbed her head. “At least, I don’t think you did.”

“If you must know,” I said. “I ended up stripping down to my panties and running through Foster last night.”

“What?” Her voice cracked, and I flinched at the earsplitting tone.

Heh.
“I ended up running into this guy on the second floor. Thor.”

Her eyes widened. “Thor?”

I nodded, luring her in. “He’s studying abroad and barely speaks a word of English.” I pulled my lips back into a suggestive smirk. “I saw him and immediately knew that I would have him, right there in the stairwell.”

“Omigosh, Ree!” she practically spat. “No, you didn’t! Please tell me you didn’t. You were saving that, weren’t you?” A second ticked by. “Ugh, you did! You did, didn’t you?”

“Actually.” I leaned back, never tearing my gaze from hers. “I wandered outside and stranded myself in the icy tundra.”

“Huh?”

“The quad. Wallace found me and carried me inside.” I fingered the stitching on my comforter. “He took me to his room.”

Her jaw dropped. “You went back to his lair? What were you thinking? Did he hurt you?”

“He killed me,” I replied in a sarcastic tone. “This is my disembodied spirit.”

Her eyes turned to slits, and she pursed her lips. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Ree!”

I let out a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll level with you. Now that I’ve spent some time with him, I feel kinda bad about everything.” I smiled despite myself, remembering how he’d teased me in the elevator. “He’s a nice guy.”

“Wait, wait. You spent the entire night with Wallace?” The color drained from her face. “You’re wearing
his
clothes?”

My cheeks grew warm. “Well, it sounds weird, when you say it like that.”

“Details!” She scrambled off of her bed and lunged for mine, making the mattress bounce us both with impact. “Tell me everything that happened.”

Oh for crying out loud.
“You know me. What do you think happened?” I sat up and hugged a pillow to my chest. “He carried me upstairs and let me take a shower, because I was soaked from wandering around outside.” I pinched the thin, white material of his t-shirt, holding it out in front of me. “He let me borrow some clothes, obviously.”

“Uh huh.” She leaned forward, frantically waving her hands for me to continue. “Then what happened?”

“Gabby, chill. Nothing like you’re thinking.” I gently pushed back on her shoulders, trying to get a little space. “We sat up talking, and he let me in on his secret.”

“You mean how he bruised you?”

I blinked. “Well, no, not that one.”

Why didn’t he explain that one?

“Okay? What was it?”

“He isn’t crazy. The reason he’s always screaming and banging into things is a medical condition.” I tapped my head, smug in my newfound knowledge. “He’s got clusters.”

She jerked her head back. “What the hell are clusters?”

“That’s what I said. Well, almost.” I waved it off. “Apparently, they’re these wicked headaches that push him to his breaking point every night. That’s why he makes so much noise.”

It took her a moment to process the information. “So, he’s not dangerous?”

I grinned. “Nope.”

“Well, shit.” She ran a hand back over her forehead. “Aren’t we a bunch of jerks, then?”

“Pretty much.”

“So…” Her gaze slid back to mine. “That’s all that happened?”

I fluffed the pillow, smacking both sides of the worn cotton. “Of course it is. I mean, I passed out while we were talking. The poor guy carried me to his bed and slept in his desk chair.”

“Are you serious?” Her voice raised an octave and decibel at the same time. “He’s, like, a foot taller than you. How the hell did he sleep in a chair?”

Like I knew. “He had his legs up on the desk. It looked really uncomfortable.”

“Girl, you snagged a real life, honest to goodness, chivalry knight.” She fanned herself, and I didn’t even want to know what she was imagining.

“Okay, first off, way to go 180° on the guy.” I rolled my eyes. “Second, I did not
snag
anything. Third, are you lusting after him now or what?” My tone came across a little sharper than I’d intended. The hangover had me on edge.

I peered at Gabby. She drank more than I did. How could she even stand to hear herself talk?

“Um, hello! The hottest guy in the building is suddenly sane? Yeah, I’d hit that.” She laughed, and I resisted the urge to punch her. “I mean, unless you’ve called dibs or something.”

“I haven’t called anything,” I said crossly. “He and I are just friends—go ahead and make another notch on your bedpost.”

She gasped, her mouth agape with shock. “Rena Elizabeth Collins!”

“What? The bed isn’t even cold from Maverick, and you’re already scheming.” It was a cheap shot, but I was starting to fume. Wallace deserved a hell of a lot more than a stupid one night stand.

“Why does it concern you?”

“It doesn’t,” I snapped.

“You’re damn right, it doesn’t!”

The ensuing silence was painful. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d argued so openly. Usually, we’d just play our snarky comments off as jokes, but this time was different.

I didn’t like it.

We weren’t those unfortunate kids who got stuck together in a random housing assignment; we were the roomies everyone considered biracial twins. Hell, by the end of our first week, we were finishing each other’s sentences. Was this
Wallace thing
worth fighting over?

I took a deep breath, tucking my arms beneath my breasts. “Sorry.”

Gabby leaned back against the wall and blew a rogue strand out of her face. “Same.”

A moment ticked by before our half-assed apologies sank in. “Well, I guess it’s time to break it to Aiden,” I muttered, holding my phone up. “He’s the crazy one.”

Her mouth curled back into full-blown smile. “Ya know, I like that idea.”

Chapter Eleven

Aiden didn’t take the news well. It’d been over half an hour, and he was still struggling to make sense of it all. He sat hunched over my laptop, tapping away at the keys in denial. “Clussster,” he sounded the word out slowly, typing it into a search engine. “Headaches.”

A myriad of results flashed across the screen, listed in blue underlined links. I chewed my bottom lip, watching as he skipped the Wikipedia articles and self-diagnosis websites. It was better this way. If I wanted to understand Wallace—and sadly, I seemed to be the only one at this point who did—I’d have to understand his condition.

“Hmm…” Aiden squinted at the screen and strummed his fingers, clicking on a support group.

“What is it?” I walked to the other side of the room, a little more anxious than I cared to let on. “Did you find something?”

“Cluster headaches, also known as suicide headaches,” he read quietly, “are one of the worst pains known to man.”

“What does it say about screaming and stuff?” Gabby cut in, impatient as always.

“Hold on.” He looked like he was skimming the page. “It says the attacks can last anywhere from fifteen minutes to over three hours at a time, and they can happen a few times a day. Maybe more.”

“And you said Wallace’s attack lasts around, what, forty minutes?” I asked before I could stop myself. “Does he have any other attacks during the day?”

It was all I could do to keep from shoving Aiden out of the way to look for myself. Maybe Gabby’s impatience was contagious. In fact, the only thing stopping me was the assumption they’d jump to. My interest would become a
thing.
Once those two got a notion stuck in their heads, they tended to go overboard with the torment. Most subjects I could handle, but dating was another story. A story with a past I’d rather not get into.

“He usually quiets down a little after nine o’clock. I don’t know of any other times. That’s all we hear.” Aiden scrolled down through some other information. “Ah, here we go. Posts from sufferers and caretakers.”

Gabby gestured a fill-in-the-blank at his back. “And?”

“And it sounds like everyone tends to Hulk-out during these things, not that I can blame them.” He winced, sparing us the details.

“Well, there you have it.” I crossed my arms and fixed them both with a look. “No more crazy business.”

“That’s fine.” He scooted his chair back and stood up. “But I’m still not clear on when you two became so close.”

For the love of all that was right in the world, why did it matter to either one of them? “What’s there to get? We met by accident and happen to get along. End of story.”

“Except for this.” Aiden crossed the room and pulled my sleeve up, revealing the faint marks around my shoulder.

I swatted his hand away. “I just said it was an accident.”

“How do you
accidentally
bruise someone by grabbing them?” He popped his jaw, unable to mask his aggravation.

“I’m fair skinned. Everything marks me.”

“Does it?” Gabby grabbed my wrist and squeezed hard before letting go.

What was this? An interrogation? “Okay, seriously, the next person to touch me dies. I’m not even kidding.” I glanced down at my wrist, where the red marks from her fingers were already starting to fade. “This proves nothing.”

Aiden backed down at my threat, lowering his gaze. “We’re just worried about you.”

“I get that. I do. Thank you for that.” I clasped my hands together, practically pleading. “But you’ve got to believe me when I say that’s all that happened. It was a fluke.”

He eyed me for a moment and sighed. “All right.”

I turned to Gabby, and she put her hands up in surrender. “If you say so.”

“I do say so.” I put my hands on my hips. “And that’s it.”

That wasn’t it.

When I showered the next morning, I found bruises along the side of my leg—bruises I had no choice but to ignore, unless I wanted to hear more conspiracy theories. Maybe I had thin blood.

Or maybe not. But damn those things were sore.

Over the next few days, the bruises faded, and as they did, so did their implications. School was in full gear, and my professors weren’t pulling any punches. Apparently, meeting once or twice a week, for fifteen weeks, wasn’t enough time to get the gist of an overpriced textbook. My workload doubled.

Thursday night found me seated at my desk, warmed by the unnatural heat of my lamp, and sifting through a mound of assignments.
Blech.
Why did social work always seem so boring on paper?

I glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even seven yet, and Gabby was already starting to lose her attention span. Her nails tapped against her desk as she waited for something to load on her laptop. After a minute, she started rocking back and forth.

“Problem?” I didn’t bother looking up. If I did, we’d get derailed, and the whole night would be lost. All it took was a few shared looks of exasperation for us to indulge in a little distraction. Hell, all I’d done was ask about dinner last night, and we ended up absorbed in some marathon on Bravo.

“I have to look up boring stuff for this paper.”

I shot her a sideways glance. “Boring
medical
stuff?”

She nodded.

“The stuff you’ve chosen to spend your life studying?”

Again, she nodded.

I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before I turned to look at her. “Three years in. It’s not too late to jump ship.”

She scoffed. We’d had this discussion before. In fact, we had this discussion every time she commented on the bland nature of her work. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why she kept going through the charade.