“Enough to check on me and walk me to class but not enough to trust me. Isn’t that what this is about?” My voice sounded ridiculously acerbic, but I felt as if he’d just slapped me in the face.
“I’m sorry, Rory. It was absolutely not my intention to upset you. Sometimes, I just feel it’s better not to…we’re too…I feel too…” He sighed, clearly frustrated. “It’s Kazemde.”
I didn’t flinch. “It’s not that hard to pronounce.”
He smiled. “You should try to spell it.”
“What’s your favorite food?”
“I don’t really have a local favorite. The food here is…have you heard the adage, Eat to live, not live to eat?”
I shot him a look, and he shrugged.
“What’s your favorite food at home?”
“It’s hard to explain.” When he realized I was waiting for an answer, he continued, “It’s called mahallajharad. It’s similar to what you call seafood.”
“So, it’s a fish?”
“Similar to a fish.”
Good enough. “What do you do for fun?”
“My culture is different from yours, Rory.”
I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Are you saying Egyptians don’t have fun? Bullshit.”
“I’m saying our fun is studying, learning, and exploring. It’s just different, and I know your culture has a difficult time with different. You practice much…disbelief.”
“I disbelieve that you think I’m intimidating. You really have the angel-living-in-the-garden-of-evil thing down.”
Cy frowned and then returned to his desk. “I shouldn’t have eaten the pizza. Very stupid of me.”
“Yes, it was,” I said, settling back onto my stool.
He made a face. “You told me to.”
“I didn’t know you were allergic or whatever. That’s on you.”
“You’re not very nice tonight.”
“I never said I was.”
“That’s a lie. You can be very nice when you wish to be.”
“I don’t lie,” I said, mimicking his earlier statement.
“Yes, you do.”
“I liked you better when you didn’t talk.”
“The feeling is mutual!” he said, taking off his glasses.
Once again, I found myself hating him while lost in his weird and amazing golden eyes.
I grabbed my jacket.
Cy sat up, his body rigid. “Where are you going?”
I slipped my arms through the sleeves while I walked toward the door. “I can’t work like this.”
“But…we still have this stack and the core samples and—”
“They can wait until tomorrow.”
“No, Rory, they really can’t. Stay. I apologize.”
I stopped, still facing the door.
“I’m really very sorry,” he said, an edge of begging in his voice. “I felt weak because I was ill, and I disguised it as anger and directed those feelings toward you. Inexcusable. Please forgive me.”
I turned. “What are you?”
“What?” he said, shifting nervously in his chair.
“You’re at KIT, but you sound like a Psych major.”
The corners of his mouth turned up a bit. “I assure you, I am not. Just very aware of and clearly susceptible to human nature. Please sit. Let’s finish our work.”
I pulled my mouth to the side.
“It doesn’t make you weak to forgive someone, you know,” he said.
“No, but it gives people another chance to hurt you.”
“Did I? Hurt you?” The thought seemed to wound him.
I swallowed. “No one can hurt me. It’s like trying to fill a cup that’s already full.”
Cy’s face fell. “Please, Rory, I’m so sorry. I never meant to upset you.”
I turned and left Cy sitting alone in the basement.
Running up the stairs, I didn’t stop until I burst through the double glass doors. Once outside, I took a deep breath, as if I’d just come up for air. Still going to The Gym on occasion with Benji, I wasn’t as out of shape as I used to be, but I was pissed off. No one confused me, angered me, or made me want to tackle-kiss him like Cy Kazemde. What was it about him that made me feel such conflicting emotions? And what was it about me that I couldn’t shake off the feelings I had for him?
A person popped up beside me. “You okay?”
I jumped. “Damn it, Benji! What are you doing here?”
“Waiting on you to get off work. I was going to walk you home.”
“You’re approaching stalker status.”
“I thought about that. I didn’t really mean to. I just wanted to make sure you got home okay and thought maybe it was my turn.”
I knew he was alluding to Cy walking me around, but I didn’t want to get into it with him. “How many times have I told you—”
“I know. You don’t need anyone. Maybe it’s me who needs a friend. Have you ever thought about that?”
That took me off guard. Benji stood there, his hands in his coat pockets, waiting for me to answer. Too much honesty for one night.
The crowd of students usually heading to a party now was nowhere in sight, which only meant one thing—the warehouse. I sighed. That meant paying for a taxi.
“Warehouse party?” I asked, staring at the empty campus. People were not my thing, and parties were definitely not my thing, but at the moment, I would take any distraction to get my mind off of Cy.
“Yeah. Want to go?”
Benji’s brown eyes were tired, but here he was, waiting on me to finish at the lab. Something had to be said for selflessness like that.
“Only if I can drive.”
Benji smiled. “You got it.”
I wasn’t a complete ass**le. I didn’t drive someone else’s car like I’d stolen it, but it was fun to take the corners a little fast. Benji didn’t seem to mind. Actually, he seemed to enjoy witnessing the smile on my face.
We parked in the open field, a little farther away from the other cars so that they wouldn’t ding his shiny doors. Benji’s Mustang was pristine, and I knew how far away he parked in the parking lot to keep it that way.
We walked in, and I was instantly lost in the loud music, lights, and cigarette smoke. The warehouse was home to two parties a year, hosted by students belonging to a secret society. No one saw it being put together or taken down. No one knew it was going to happen until it did. And by the time it was over, the secret society had a couple of new members—or that was the rumor anyway.