The Shameless Hour (The Ivy Years #4)
Page 48“Running,” he repeated. “That’s when you put shoes on and move your feet real fast, transporting yourself from one spot to another.”
“I don’t run,” I said, turning back to the wall.
“Today you do,” I said. “Or else.”
“Or else what?”
“I’m going to Dean Darling to tell him you’re having a breakdown and won’t get out of bed.”
My chin whipped around at this latest indignity. “No you will not.”
He pushed a limp curl out of my eyes. “Yeah, I will. Try me.”
I shoved his hand away. I’d had enough of his bullshit. “Get out of my face, Rafe. None of this has anything to do with you.”
“That’s not the point,” he said, those big chocolate eyes watching me closely.
“What is the point?”
“You’re not okay. And I’m the one who noticed.”
Great. Rafe was some kind of do-gooder. I sure knew how to pick ’em. “It’s none of your business,” I whispered.
“I’ll get right on that,” I lied.
He left. When he was on his way out of my room, I heard the telltale click the lock makes when it’s toggled from locked to unlocked.
I got off the bed for the first time in hours and flipped it locked again. My stomach made an angry growl when I crawled back onto the bed. I hadn’t eaten because that required leaving my room.
Whatever. I lay down again. When the knock came five minutes later, I ignored it. When Rafe tried to turn the knob, it did not budge.
“Fine,” he said from the hallway. “I’m going to knock on the house dean’s door next.”
I leapt off the bed and yanked the door open. “You can’t just order me!”
He raised one dark eyebrow. “When I’m in a major funk, exercise helps.”
“Thanks for the tip.” There was no way to stop the bitchy things that fell from my mouth. But I wasn’t sure I cared.
“Come running,” he demanded.
“Fuck no! I can’t even do that.”
“Sure you can.” He stared me down. “Either we run or we have lunch together in the dining hall.”
“Put your running shoes on,” said the most bull-headed neighbor that ever was.
For a few seconds, I wavered. But Rafe was exactly the sort of guy who would go to the dean, imagining he’d done me a favor. I did not have time for that.
Damn. It.
“I don’t even own running shoes,” I said as a last ditch effort to avoid this.
“You can borrow mine!” Lianne’s voice piped up.
I yelled toward the bathroom. “Your feet are probably a size five.”
“Nope!” she said cheerfully. “Seven and a half. Same as you.”
Fuck.
A few minutes later, I found myself stepping outside into a crisp October day. I kept my head down as I grudgingly followed Rafe out of the Beaumont courtyard.
He pointed up the street. “Come on. You set the pace.”
“I don’t run.”
“No, Rafe, they really don’t.”
“Really? If they were giving out free cones at Scoops to the first hundred takers, you’d just mosey over there?”
I rolled my eyes at the flagstone pathway.
“Then follow me.” He began to jog at an easy pace down the block.
This was ridiculous, but I still jogged after him. At least at this hour, most everyone was in class. I only had to swerve around a few students on the sidewalk.
The people around me were oblivious — tapping on their phones or talking to friends. What I wouldn’t give to go back in time just a few days. I wanted to be oblivious too — to walk around campus like I owned the place. But now I didn’t know what to do with my eyes whenever we approached someone. Harkness was a small school, and even the people I didn’t know looked familiar.
Every time we passed someone, I looked down at my shoes. And I couldn’t help but wonder, Have you seen the picture? Have you read the caption?
Harkness College had turned on me, and I was never going to feel the same way about it again.