Page 29 of All That Glitters

“I’ll see you tomorrow. You can email me your portion of the article whenever you’ve got it.” I do my best to sound professional and not like I’m moments away from collapsing or crying.

“Wait,” Jameson says quickly. “Let me walk you back to your place. It’s late.”

“I’ve walked by myself probably a hundred times. I’ll be fine,” I reply with a shake of my head.

“Please, it would make me feel better.”

I sigh. I’m out of the energy to care. Tomorrow, after I’ve slept a little and had more caffeine, I’ll go back to fighting him.

“Fine, but I don’t need a bodyguard. Nothing has ever happened.”

I glance at Jameson in time to see a strange look pass over him, but it disappears before I can pinpoint the meaning.

“Thank you,” he murmurs with evident relief.

We walk the familiar path back to my apartment in silence. It’s not quite comfortable, but not hostile either. More awkward than anything. There were so many moments tonight that felt like we had traveled back in time. And yet there were plenty of others that reminded me of how different things are now.

We’re marked by these events that have happened. There was a before that night, and an after. A pre and post betrayal. We’re living in the aftermath of a bone-rattling earthquake. The landscape of our relationship has shifted like tectonic plates. I’m not sure how to navigate this altered map. It seems safer to avoid the area altogether, rather than risk hurting myself.

When we arrive at the door to my apartment, the sight of the 504 on the door startles me. It’s as though I floated here, like I dreamt most of the night. I retrieve my keys from the bottom of my bag, all too aware of Jameson’s eyes on me.

“Good night, Goldie,” he says softly.

I look up at him, feeling very much like I’m on unsteady ground.

“Good night.” I whisper my reply.

His eyes dip to my lips for a fraction of a second. So quickly that by the time I wake up tomorrow, I’ll be convinced I imagined it. Then he takes a step back, turns, and heads down the hall to the elevator.

Instead of going inside, I watch him. He twists his backpack around and digs inside before producing that black notebook I noticed earlier. The elevator dings and he steps on, his focus still on the journal that he’s now scribbling in. What on earth could he be writing that couldn’t wait? His head lifts as if he can feel me staring. We lock eyes right as the elevator doors begin to close.

Chapter fifteen

The Invitation

Jameson Sinclair

I balance two cardboard cup holders of lattes on one arm while opening the newsroom door with the other. Before heading this way, I sent a message in the paper’s group chat asking if anyone wanted anything from the campus café. I got a flood of replies, but there was only one that I cared about. The entire reason for the message in the first place.

As I wind my way through the series of desks and filing cabinets, I drop off drinks to those who placed an order. My bank account might be a little lighter after buying all of these, but it’s worth it if Marigold’s day gets brighter. I approach our little section of desks in time to hear Marigold and Paisley talking.

“Are you going?” Paisley asks from where she’s sitting crisscross on her desk.

“I don’t know, a Valentine’s Day party in a frat house sounds about as pleasant as a root canal with no lidocaine,” Marigold replies, and I hold in a laugh.

“It’s better than sitting home alone.”

“Is it?” Marigold laughs.

“Think of all the people watching you’ll get to do. It’ll make for great inspiration.” Paisley tries to convince her.

I decide to make my presence known. If I lurk much longer, they’re liable to think I’m eavesdropping. And they’d be right.

“What will make for great inspiration?” I ask as I deposit Paisley’s iced matcha on her desk, then give Marigold her maple cream latte. She asked for a triple shot, but I got her a double. Hopefully she doesn’t notice. There’s no way that much caffeine is good for a person.

“Alpha Pi’s President, Carson, is throwing a Valentine’s Day Extravaganza,” Paisley says while waving her fingers for extra-dramatic pizzazz. “He's practically invited the whole school. I found a flyer stuck to my door this morning.”

“Correction: he’s invited all of the women. Jasmine said Shepherd didn’t see any flyers on his floor,” Marigold says with a shake of her head.