Page 53 of Blood Queen

I glance around. “At least you don’t have a roommate.”

He shoots me a look. “Because Irequesteda single.”

I raise a brow. “Why did you do that?”

He leans against the dresser, arms crossed. “I need quiet to study and do homework. I don’t test well.”

I flop back on the bed. “So, what now? Do I just… lurk around campus like some ghost with no identity?”

He chuckles. “Not exactly.” He grabs his wallet and slips back into his sneakers. “First, we’re getting you a cell phone.”

I blink. “Acell phone?”

“Yeah, you need one. I need to be able to text you, let you know when I’ll be around to let you in and out.”

I sigh. “Oh right.”

I don’t know what I expected from a cell phone store, but it’s a little overwhelming. Bright lights, walls lined with screens,a dozen salespeople bouncing between customers like they’ve downed a pot of coffee.

I stick close to Truman as he guides me toward a display. “Anything look good?”

I glance over the options. “They all look the same.”

He huffs a laugh. “That’s fair.” He picks one up, flipping it over in his hand. “This one’s solid. Easy to use, good camera, won’t die on you every five seconds.”

I take it from him, feeling the weight of it in my palm. My very own phone. It’s weird. Foreign. But kind of thrilling.

The salesman appears like a shark scenting blood. “Looking to start a new plan?”

Truman nods. “Yeah, just calls, texts, data.”

The guy grins. “Great! Can I see your ID?”

I stiffen. I have no birth certificate, no social security card, no id. Just a wad of cash and some clothes and toiletries. Truman’s expression doesn’t change, but I feel the way his whole body tenses beside me.

“She’s on my plan,” he says smoothly, pulling out his wallet. “I’ll handle the paperwork.”

The salesman shrugs. “No problem.”

I exhale slowly as Truman starts filling out forms, listing me as some extension of himself.

I pull out cash for him. Truman glances at me while the guy runs over the setup options. His fingers brush mine, grounding me.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs.

I nod, because if I speak, I mightfeeltoo much.

The walk back to his dorm is quiet, but not uncomfortable. He swings the bag with my new phone inside it, hands tucked in his pockets.

“This is weird,” I admit.

Truman smirks. “Which part?”

“All of it.” I gesture at the campus around us. “You. Me.Here.I feel a little unmoored.”

He stops walking, turning to face me. The streetlight above us casts a glow over his face, making his eyes look impossibly deep.

“You’re here because you belong with me,” he says.