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“I know this sick sushi place.” Big T grins. “Sushi’s healthy, you feel me? It’s just rice and raw fish.”
“Um…”
How do I get out of this conversation in a way that will make Big T still lug my rice pots down the stairs on Saturday?
While I’m contemplating how to turn him down, Big T’s attention zips past me to something in the shadows. I turn too and gasp in shock when I see Cullen backing away from us like a parent who just put their crying toddler to sleep.
“Who the hell are you?” Big T demands.
“I…” Cullen’s eyes dart to me, to Big T and then land back on me.
“Were you listening to us the entire time?” Big T takes a threatening step forward.
His reaction to Cullen seems excessive. He must have sensed that I was about to turn him down and is insecure that he had an audience.
“Cullen!” I yell brightly.
Both Cullen and Big T stop in their tracks and stare at me.
“You’re late.” I spring forward and grab ahold of Cullen’s arm.
He blinks, licks his lips and awkwardly answers me. “S-sorry. I just got your message.”
Big T arches an eyebrow. “You know this…” He searches for a word and finally settles on, “hippie?”
The way Big T is staring at Cullen’s beanie, I’m pretty sure he meant ‘hipster’. But I don’t correct him.
“Big T, this is Cullen. He’s…” The lie bangs in my brain like a crash of lightning and thunder. “Josiah’s tutor.”
“Tutor?” Big T scrunches his nose as if the word or the concept is foreign.
“This way Mr. Cullen.” I grab Cullen’s hand and shoot inside, dragging him all the way up the stairs.
I’m so determined to get away from Big T that I don’t realize Cullen is moving slower and slower behind me.
Heavy panting fills the air. I spin around and find Cullen far behind. He’s bent over, clutching his knees.
“Mr. Cullen?”
My feet slam noisily against the steps as I close the distance between us. Cullen grips the railing for dear life. Sweat beads on his forehead and dots the fabric of his polo.
The man is about to pass out.
I panic. “Mr. Cullen! Mr. Cullen! Do you want me to call an ambulance?”
“Stop… yelling…please,” he rasps.
I’ve never noticed until he actually raised his voice, but Ronan Cullen always speaks quietly. This is the loudest I’ve ever heard him and it’s only because his voice is echoing against the walls.
“Are you sure you don’t need an ambulance?” I ask, chewing on my bottom lip.
Cullen shakes his head weakly and then sinks onto the nearest step. I stoop down beside him, feeling absolutely helpless.
What if this man dies right here in front of me?
Josiah will for sure think I had something to do with it.
“It’s just vertigo,” he whispers, his head hanging low and his entire body crouched over.