Page 35 of Endless Anger (Monsters Within #1)

“Look,” I tell her, spinning around and grabbing the hem of my sweater.

I pull it off in one motion, goose bumps prickling where the cool air meets my damp skin.

“I don’t know what sort of conspiracy theories you’re consuming, but I wouldn’t put myself through the hell of higher education just to fuck with you.

Can we accept the reality that maybe I just wanted to finish my degree in person? ”

She huffs, averting her gaze as I turn back around, still shirtless.

I don’t miss the light pink stain of her cheeks or how my chest tightens, my lungs clamoring for oxygen at the sight.

The sleeves of her thin black sweater are longer than her arms, and she pulls the ends over her hands, cradling them in her lap. She scrubs the fabric together, fidgeting. Always fidgeting, like her brain just can’t shut off. I wonder if she remembered to take her Vyvanse this morning .

“You’re…finishing a degree? How? Avernia doesn’t transfer credits.”

“Not to other places, but they do make exceptions for incoming students.”

“What are you majoring in?”

“Visual arts. I’ve been doing online courses between gigs. If all I could ever do was listen to Foxe write shitty music, I’d have lost my mind. Figured I should try something .”

“I didn’t know,” she murmurs.

Shrugging, I wipe a hand down my face. “Yeah, well, you didn’t ask.”

Her mouth forms a thin line. “It’s hard to believe when you were so adamant about not wanting to attend school here ever.”

Foxe sits up a little, sliding Keats off him. The cat growls for a split second, then resituates himself on my pillow.

Irritation boils hot in my bones, and I slide my feet in her direction again, letting it pulse through me.

“Why do you keep fixating on that?—”

“Because it’s the only explanation that doesn’t mean you ditched me!” Lucy shouts. Her voice, thick and choked, echoes in the small dorm room, ricocheting off my eardrums.

I blink, my body feeling like it’s been swallowed by flames. Foxe’s eyebrows disappear beneath his hair, but he remains silent.

She clenches her jaw and squeezes her fingers, not looking at me.

Foxe props his arms behind his head, letting out a low whistle. That seems to break the stagnant air around us, and Lucy slips from the bed, grabbing her bag and throwing it over her shoulder.

“Coming here was clearly a mistake.” She heads for the door. “Forget I said anything. You just make me?—”

My hand lashes out, latching on to her elbow. Keeping her from leaving. “What, Luce? What do I make you?”

She stares at me with wide eyes, a strand of dyed-scarlet hair falling into her face. “I said forget it . Let me go. I have to get to class.”

But I don’t want to let her go.

I never did .

Red rims her eyes, which I see are bloodshot now that I’m looking at her more thoroughly.

I’d taken notes for her knowing that she’s practically useless when tired. There’s no telling when the last time she got any rest was. Her sleep schedule before college wasn’t regular, and I imagine the stress of the last three years—and especially since my return—has taken its toll.

I bet she has fucking nightmares. That’s probably why she holes up in the library instead of finding alternate accommodations: to stave off sleep entirely.

My heart beats so loud that it drowns out the low patter of rain against the window. Biting down on my tongue, I swallow and let my arm drop, then reach for a T-shirt.

“Stay,” I tell her as I tug the fabric on, then shrug into a black corduroy jacket.

Her hand finds the doorknob. “Stop telling me what to do.”

She sounds so fucking defeated , but more than that, there’s a stiffness to her that I recognize. She can’t focus on any one thing, her eyes darting around aimlessly, and her hand grips the doorknob so tight, her knuckles bleach.

This has all been too much. Her mind is revolting—shutting down.

“I’ll go.”

Lucy freezes. Looks over her shoulder at me. Narrows her eyes into little slits. “Don’t be stupid, pretty boy. This is your room.”

“And you slept where last night?” She doesn’t answer, and I nod in affirmation. “That’s what I thought. So stay here and do whatever you need to. I know you don’t have another class until later this afternoon.”

“You’re so fucking creepy.”

“Hear, hear.” Foxe gets up, stretching and cracking his neck. He slings one arm over my shoulder, leaning against me. His breath smells like alcohol, but I don’t say so. “Want some company, Lulu?”

“That depends,” she says, releasing the knob. “Do you want to be murdered today? ”

He touches a hand to his bare chest. “You’re so mean , Lulu. What happened to you?”

Shoving him off me, I move toward the door, pulling it open and tossing a hoodie in his direction. “Get dressed and let’s go.”

“Where to?”

I glare at him silently, and he snorts, putting on the jacket. Lucy stares at her feet, unmoving when the door bumps into her.

Even when Foxe strides out and Keats slinks over, rubbing his slightly overweight self against her legs, she doesn’t move.

Maybe I should be more concerned about how traumatized she seems and how locked within her body all her emotions are when she used to wear them on her sleeve.

But right now, all I care about is that she’s here, in my room, staying .