Chapter 7

Nikolai

I didn’t know why I was fucking around texting Hannah. I could practically feel her anxious pauses after each one I sent, particularly after the last one. In all honesty, I didn’t want anything from her. I told her I would help because she got me to feel bad for her, and I always did what I said I was going to do.

When I got her texts, I rolled my eyes at her questions. I kept texting her because it was kind of humorous, and it’s not like she was going to get the wrong idea, like another girl might, if I kept responding to her. I already agreed to be her fake boyfriend, and I made it clear in about a thousand different ways that it would never become real. It seemed harmless to indulge her texting and questions, to even be a little bit flirtatious with her.

I saw her walking down the hall as she left her last class and was shocked at how different she seemed. When she approached me this morning, her body was as tightly wound as a newly coiled spring, and her expression only wavered between two expressions: high anxiety and deep distress. But as I watched her in the hall after I’d handled Connors, I noticed all the differences. Her posture was more relaxed, her body language appeared calm and open, and her facial expression, which was previously pinched, looked soft, even happy.

Giving her that peace of mind made me feel an uncomfortable tightening in my chest. My head was slammed with feelings that I had never experienced. I’d never acted on behalf of another person before, usually focusing on my needs exclusively. I’d had to take care of myself one way or another since childhood, so there never seemed to be any room to concern myself with someone else’s issues. I’d been reluctantly drawn into this situation with Hannah, but there was a disturbing sense of satisfaction and pride in having removed the threat that Connors presented for her, if even for a day. There was something about taking responsibility for her problems and then solving them for her. Watching her walk freely, feeling safe and protected that made my chest feel full in a way that was simultaneously gratifying and deeply unsettling.

I needed to meet with her and ask her some more questions about Connors but decided to not text about it right away. Even though I knew she was probably going to sweat after sending me that last text, I didn’t want to get carried away with this shit.

Her harmless, flirty text was probably the most suggestive thing she’d ever said to a guy. For some reason, I liked that, her lack of experience and awkward innocence. I thought I’d find it annoying and juvenile, but it was kind of endearing. As I acknowledged that to myself, the unsettled feeling returned. I decided to avoid answering her last question. What do you want? Nope, I wasn’t going to touch that with a ten-foot pole.