Student Affairs takes up part of the basement level of the student center, along with a gallery and some other offices. It’s a bright white labyrinth down here, and I’m always getting lost in it, but I’m pretty sure we came in on the other end from where West is leading me.
“Okay, I think. I told them a bunch of stuff, and they asked some questions. Then I gave them all my log printouts. They’re supposed to talk to Nate next, and then we’ll see.”
West’s expression darkens. “That’s it? ‘We’ll see’?”
He’s been like this since we left my dad’s. Keyed up, bitter, a little sarcastic. I think he must have been under the illusion that just because I’m right, everyone will take my side. As if that’s the way the world works.
For my part, I’ve moved beyond thinking anything is going to be handed to me without a fight.
“Well, yeah. What did you think, they’d tie him to the back of a horse and drag him around campus?”
He doesn’t find the joke funny. I reach up and feel the deep worry line between his eyebrows. “Hey. What’s this for?”
“Nothing. You hungry? You should eat something. Get some rest. I want you to sleep while I’m on at the bakery tonight.”
I stop walking. “West.”
“What?”
“What’s the matter?”
Because there’s something more going on with him than can be explained by disappointment with how my interview went. There’s this energy coming off him, a gathering storm cloud, dark and dangerous. I can feel it when I stand close, and it reminds me of that day when I found him at the library after he’d punched Nate—a physical violence, vibrating atoms, primitive chemicals.
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
I take his upper arms in a firm grip, pull him closer, go up on my tiptoes to kiss him. He just stands there like a block of wood, and when I come down he tries on a smile that’s so pathetically not a smile, I want to wipe it off his face.
“Yeah, you totally feel fine,” I say. “That was such a great kiss, I’m about to rip off my panties and do you in the hallway.”
No smile. No humor in him at all. He tugs at my hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Not until you talk to me.”
“Not here.”
“Why not? There’s no one around.”
His eyes dart past my shoulder to the other end of the hall.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
I figure out why he’s swearing—the only likely reason for him to be so tense—as I’m turning around. The sight of Nate standing where there was no one a few seconds ago is more confirmation than surprise.
“You knew he was coming?”
West doesn’t answer. Maybe he overheard something, maybe the secretary told him, but somehow he knew.
“It’s fine, West. I mean, it’s sweet that you’re so worried, but I was going to have to see him sooner or later, I just—”
One glance tells me he isn’t listening to me.
One look at his eyes informs me that West’s attempt to railroad me out of the building wasn’t for my protection. At least, not in the way I assume.
He’s flushed. Focused.
Homicidal.
“Don’t you dare,” I tell him. “Don’t even think about it.”
“You should go,” he says.
Nate has spotted us. He’s about thirty feet away—close enough that I see him go still.
I think if I were closer, I’d see fear in his eyes.
“You’ll get expelled.”
My hand is over West’s galloping heart. I’m not sure he can even hear me, and I’ve already had enough of not being heard today. My dad, the dean of students, the residence-life supervisor who sat in on the meeting—none of them really listened. And now West.
“Get out of here, Caroline.”
He’s pushing past me, moving steadily down the hall toward his prey, and I’m certain— certain that West isn’t going to hit Nate. No, he’s going to beat him until someone pulls him off. He’s going to put Nate in the hospital. Maybe even kill him.
I guess I should be worried for West, or for Nate even, but I’m not. Figuring out what’s about to happen doesn’t scare me. It ticks me off.
West has peed on this particular tree already. Twice.
I grab a fistful of the back of his T-shirt and yank on it. Fabric rips. West whirls around.
“This is my fight,” I tell him. “Mine. Not yours.”
“Get out of here if you don’t want to see this.”
“Do you hear yourself? This isn’t an action movie. Knock it off.”
“Let go of my shirt.”
“It won’t help anything, West. You’ll just get in trouble, maybe go to jail, and then I won’t have you and I’ll still have to deal with this. It won’t help.”
He tries to get my hand off his shirt, but I’ve got a good grip. So he just takes his shirt off. Right there in the basement of the student center, he whips off his shirt and stalks down the hallway toward Nate.
I drop my bag and run.
I never got very good at rugby, but I learned a few things about tackling before the season ended. None of them has anything to do with this graceless tumble into West. I collide with the backs of his thighs, get my hands around his knees, slide down to his ankles.
I’m tenacious, though. I don’t let go. If he wants to fight Nate, he’ll have to drag me along behind him. I’ll cling to his back like a baby monkey. It won’t be dignified, but I don’t care.
“Caroline, for Christ’s sake.”
“I’m not letting go.”
Hands on his hips, he glares at Nate, who’s smirking now. He really does deserve to get punched in the nose.
But that’s neither here nor there. I made my feelings about violence clear when I puked in West’s toilet. I don’t like it. I don’t want it. I didn’t ask for it.
“Get off me,” West says. “This is between me and him.”
“No, it’s not.”
“He called the cops on me.”
“And that was one move in a longer war, and the war is about me, and I say no. No fighting. I hate it. It doesn’t fix anything. It just gives you an excuse to let off steam, which isn’t fair, anyway. I mean, I’ve got steam, too, and I don’t get to punch people.” I look up at West, arms around his ankles, pleading with him. “I get that you’re frustrated, okay? I get it. You’re mad. You want to fix this for me. But you can’t fix this for me. All you can do is make it worse.”
I can see the moment when it sinks in. Maybe not what I’m saying so much as the fact that I’m practically laid out on the floor, tangled up in his legs. He’s not going to accomplish anything this way.
Nate sees it, too. He walks in to Student Affairs without another glance.
The breath explodes out of West in a loud, frustrated sigh.
After a few seconds, when I’ve started to feel silly—I mean, how is it, exactly, that I ended up wrapped around the legs of a shirtless man in such a short span of time?—he gives me his hand. “Come here.”
His palm is hot and damp, his grip strong. When I’m on my feet, he frames my face between his hands. “You’re mine. He hurt you. I want to hurt him.”
“I know.”
“It’s the only thing I can do for you.”
“It’s not, though. It’s not what I need from you. You have to trust that I can do this. It’s my fight.”
“Feels like my fight, too.”
I turn my face into his palm. Kiss him there, where I can feel his pulse in his hand. “That’s because we’re a team.” I smile against his skin. “But I’m the leader.”
He snorts. “You’re not the leader.”
“I am, too. You should’ve seen me in that meeting. I kicked ass.”