Page 75 of Jump on Three

Nodding, he folded his arms. “Don’t be dumb, kid. She was here for you. When she wasn’t talking about music, she was asking questions about you.” His chin dropped, and he pinned me with a stare. “I didn’t give her those answers because it’s not my place, but I don’t like that girl having to run after you the way she did. You need to fix that.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to argue. To tell him I was not responsible for the actions of Evelyn Kastanos, that I could not control her or stop her from doing what she wanted. Then I had a flash of her riding alone with a stranger to get here, walking down dark alleys at night—fuck.

“How do I fix it?”

He groaned and stood up from his desk, tucking his hands in his trouser pockets. “Stop being so fucking secretive. I get you’ve got the whole mysterious Russian vibe. That probably gets you laid left and right, but the girl I met last night? She’s not going to be into that if she’s like my cousin. Jen lives and dies by facts and tangible evidence. Give that to your girl and see how she reacts.”

“I’m not mysterious.”

He burst out laughing as he headed for the door. “All right, Sokolov. If that’s how you want to play it, sure.”

I wasn’t mysterious, I simply did not like to share anything about myself—fuck.

Marco motherfucking Rider was right, and he was probably still laughing at me.

Chapter Twenty-five

Evelyn

Missing one day of classes and homework meant I had piles of work to complete. Not just mine, of course. Layla had been waiting for me with a last-minute paper. It hadn’t been assigned last minute, she’d just waited until the night before it was due.

I was locked away in my favorite, cozy little room where I’d been since the last bell rang. When I went to college, I would make it my number one priority to find a new version of room three. Of course, I would have to decide what college I would be attending, then I could begin the research process.

Rhys was going to Savage U, which meant Delilah wanted to go there too. But we hadn’t made that final decision yet. It was mostly me dragging my feet and our parents heavily leaning on us to return to Europe to be closer to them, a.k.a. so they could monitor us.

Still, I couldn’t picture myself at college yet. The prospect made my stomach cramp, so I really tried not to think about it.

I finished up Layla’s paper on Pride and Prejudice. She’d actually written some of it, but it was…well, not good. Somehow, Layla had managed to include six different references to Mr. Darcy’s infamous hand twitch. I removed all of them since this paper was supposed to be about the Jane Austen novel, not the Kiera Knightly film.

I worked for another hour until my stomach was growling too frequently to ignore. Going to the dining hall meant possibly facing Ivan, but that was inevitable.

While I packed up my things, I tried not to think about how deeply embarrassed I was that Ivan witnessed me melting down. My memories of everything that had happened were spotty, but I knew he’d held me after I’d thrown myself into his arms.

If anything could cure him of the lingering feelings he had for me, it was surely that. Who wanted a girl who became incoherent from being overstimulated?

A soft knock on the door pulled me out of my self-deprecation tailspin. I took one step forward when it opened.

Like he was pulled from my thoughts, Ivan walked into room three, closing the door behind him.

“Hello, Evelyn.”

I swallowed hard. “Hi, Ivan.”

“You’re better now?”

“Yes. I wasn’t avoiding you yesterday. I was resting and didn’t leave my room.”

“All right. But you have been avoiding me today, no?”

“I’m very embarrassed.” As I said this, my cheeks warmed to an almost unbearable degree.

He leaned against the door and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Will you tell me what happened so I can understand? You were dancing, loving it, right?”

This would probably be the last time we spoke this way. We might wave or share a friendly smile, but I truly doubted Ivan would pursue anything more, and I, being who I was, wouldn’t either. But after last night, after he saw me through a meltdown and helped me hold it together, the least I could do was explain.

I twisted my fingers together at my middle, one overlapping the other like rope. “I was having fun. I really loved it. The music was everything, and you are an incredible dancing partner. You guarded me from the rest of the crowd and moved with me. I liked that part the most.”

I couldn’t bear to look at him, couldn’t bear to see how he was reacting to what I was saying. Twisting my fingers a little harder, I found the tip of the swallow’s wing and focused there. Aside from his face and impossibly big hands, it was my favorite part.