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the day.” Wallace stepped back and started to close the door. “You’ll sleep well tonight.”
    “Wait! That’s not what I—”
    “Goodnight.” He shut the door with a soft click. vzyl
    That was it. The discussion was over, and so was my visit to the seventh floor.
    I stumbled back to my room in a daze of frustration, not caring about the orange scrunchie on the doorknob or Gabby’s extracurricular activities. All I wanted to do was crash in my own bed and figure out what happened. My face was still burning. I could feel it.
    I jerked the key in the lock and kicked the door back. With what little balance I could muster, I grabbed all of the bags and made my way inside. “Don’t mind me.”
    The room was dark, but I could see silhouetted forms from the window’s glow. Worse, I could hear the rustle of sheets off to the left. I groaned and charged ahead, avoiding eye contact. “Seriously?”
    “Yeah,” a male voice muttered, followed by a distinct zipping sound. “I’m out.”
    I nearly snorted, tossing my bags beside what felt like my bedpost.
    “Jinx, wait!” Gabby called, her voice rough with desperation. Something hit the floor, and I heard the pad of hurried footsteps. A second later, the light flicked on.
    I recoiled, throwing an arm up to block the light.
    There, standing two feet from the door, was a man who could’ve easily passed for some celebrity stunt double. His skin was smooth umber poured over hardened muscle, a delectable treat for the eyes. As he bent to shove his socked feet into boots, he snatched his shirt off the floor. “I’ll call you.”
    He wasn’t going to call her.
    With that, he swept out the door, leaving the two of us alone. I slid my gaze back to her, raising one eyebrow. She was clutching a sheet around her body, and her dark hair was mussed, sticking every direction. Smudges of mascara circled her eyes, where it’d rubbed off like a raccoon. The girl was a mess.
    “Rena!” Her eyes lit with Latin fire. “Didn’t you see the scrunchie?”
    “Saw it, left, came back.” I bent to paw through my gym bag, sorting out things to toss in the hamper. “And did you seriously just sleep with someone named Jinx ?”
    She huffed, smoothing her hair back. “His name is André Jenkins. Jinx is his stage name.”
    “God help us all.” I turned away from her, sorting through my supplies. “Stage name for what?”
    “He’s a dancer,” she replied. “I’m dressed.”
    I couldn’t stifle a snicker as I straightened, moving to stuff a load of packaging into the bin. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
    She rolled her eyes and flopped back on her bed. “Whatever. So, why’d you come back early?”
    I carefully blanked my expression. “I just didn’t feel like hanging around Aiden’s place anymore. Sorry.”
    “Why?”
    “What do you mean? I was tired, Gabby. I’ve been running around all day.” I opened my dresser and rooted around for something to wear as pajamas. It wasn’t like I was lying. I really was tired.
    “Did something happen?” She walked over and threw the deadbolt on the door. “Did you guys get into a fight?”
    “How often does Aiden fight?”
    She considered it for a moment. “Good point.”
    I couldn’t tell her about Wallace—that he was every bit the nightmare we’d imagined him to be. The shock was still fresh. I hadn’t processed it yet. The only thing I did know was that I’d been wrong. Again.

Chapter Seven
     
    I sat in Social Policy Analysis, chin resting in one hand, pencil poised in the other. My eyes were closing of their own accord, and every few seconds, I jolted in alarm. It wasn’t the most exciting class I’d ever taken.
    We’d spent the first hour going over the syllabus and the second hour digging into a PowerPoint. Bleh. The material was dry, and the textbook smelled like binding glue. It was a wonder I didn’t pass out sooner. Why couldn’t I substitute the class for field work?
    Just when I’d given up all