Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 84026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Another tear slipped down my cheek. I smelled Claire’s flowery perfume as she put her hands on my shoulders, leaning close. “Come inside, Karys.”
I swiped at my tears and then followed them both back upstairs where I went to my bedroom and climbed into bed. He’d promised he would see me in class on Monday. So why did I feel so panicked and unsettled? And why did I fear the look on his face I hadn’t known how to interpret was some form of goodbye?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
My heart dropped as I took my seat near the front, glancing back every few minutes to see if he’d slunk in quietly through the door at the back and might be sitting in his usual assigned seat, watching me with those dark eyes and that brooding look he wore continuously these days. But I didn’t feel the weight of his gaze. I knew he wasn’t there even as I continued to hope.
Zakai didn’t show up at all that week, and though I went to the coffee shop where I’d found him before, there was no sign of him there. I had nowhere else to look and no one to call. I kept myself busy by attending the study sessions I was invited to, my mood buoyed by the group’s enthusiastic chatter and their kind inclusion. Several times I swore I felt his eyes on me from somewhere nearby, that familiar rush of warmth flooding my limbs and making my skin tingle. But when I looked around, he was nowhere to be seen and what I’d thought was the weight of his stare, melted into melancholy that seemed to come both from outside myself and from within. I’d thought us twin souls once and wondered if though I couldn’t see him, he was somewhere near and I was feeling his pain in addition to my own.
I dragged myself into class on Friday, giving a hopeless glance back at Zakai’s usual seat, empty as I’d suspected.
“Darn,” I heard from my left and looked over at the boy sitting next to me looking dejectedly down at the pencil in his hand, the point broken off on the paper in front of him. He gave me a crooked smile. “Do you by chance have another pencil?”
I bent, digging in the front pocket of my backpack and grabbing a pen. I handed it over to him. “I don’t use pencils,” I said.
He took it, turning it in his fingers. “Ah. Not afraid of commitment then?” he whispered, glancing at our professor who was turned toward the chalkboard. “Impressive.”
Despite the heaviness in my chest at Zakai’s week of no-show, and the growing chasm between us that I could not understand, I smiled. “I guess I’m not. You however,” I said, nodding to the broken pencil on the desk in front of him, “might question yourself too much.”
He looked down, chuckling at the empty metal band at the top of the pencil, the eraser having been used to the very nub. He winked at me, picking up the pen. “That ends today,” he said, grinning.
I smiled back and our eyes held for a beat before the professor turned around, beginning her lecture.
An hour later, I stood, gathering my things. “Thank you for this,” the boy next to me said, holding the pen toward me.
I waved it away. “Keep it as a symbol of the new more-confident you.”
He laughed. “All right then,” he said, slipping the pen into his backpack and holding out his hand. “Dawson Enders, by the way.”
I took his hand in mine. “Karys Grant.”
He smiled again and I took him in more fully. He was attractive with the same sandy-brown hair as Cody Rutland, but with eyes the color of the deep green leaves that swayed on the trees outside my new bedroom window. I’d seen him around the campus before, always flanked by pretty women. “Nice to meet you, Karys.”
I smiled at him and turned to leave. “So, ah,” he said, stepping forward to catch up with me as I began walking, “can I buy you a cup of coffee for your generosity?”
“It’s not necessary. I have plenty of pens.”
“Still, you helped me in a desperate time of need, and I’d like to repay you.”
I squinted at him, noting the teasing expression in his gaze. “Okay,” I said. “I’d love a cup of coffee. I know a shop close by.”
I led Dawson to the shop where I’d found Zakai the week before but not since, chatting easily as we walked. He was a first-year student as well, but unlike me, he’d already declared a major in finance.
“Do you have any idea what you want to do yet?” he asked.
“Not really. There are so many choices. I haven’t been in the United States very long. I’m still learning about all the careers there are to choose from here. It’s . . . overwhelming.”