The Girl in the Boys' Dorms

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Hypocrisy has become a talent of mine.

The Girl in the Boys' Dorms - Chapter Twenty-Seven: Hypocrisy has become a talent of mine.

It took Evan a total of forty-five hours after the first round of the pageant to finally track me down.

I spotted him leaning against the wall outside of my seventh period Astronomy class, shoulders slumped, one foot propped against the brick behind him. He was obviously waiting for someone - and by the way he kept alternating his gaze from the watch strapped to his wrist to where I was sitting, in the desk at the back of the room, closest to the door, I knew the someone he was waiting for was me.

But I chose to ignore that little fact, and when Mrs. Fergusson dismissed us - which was quite an ordeal, since her quiet voice could barely shout our assignment over the loud ringing of the bell - I made sure to immerse myself into the thick of the bustling crowd that was filtering into the hall. I was trapped between a group of chattering freshmen and an overly aggressive janitor attempting to push his way to the exit along with everyone else.

I was almost out the door when Evan's fingers clasped around my elbow. I bit back a squeal, one part of my mind preoccupied with the butterflies that erupted in my stomach at Evan's touch. He didn't hesitate for a moment, though, and before I could even consider escape, I was being pulled toward the back of the building.

"Five minutes," Evan muttered, once he'd managed to yank me to his side. "Give me just five minutes, please. I'll explain everything."

I didn't respond, my lips already pursed into a disbelieving grimace. But even when Evan released his grip on my arm, I didn't walk away from him. There was something promising about what he'd said, an honest undertone to his words, that convinced me to follow him. Evan didn't seem like much of a liar, and if the urgency in his voice was an indicator, he would sort out all of my doubts.

By the time we reached an empty classroom, the hall was empty - save for the overachievers schmoozing the teachers for extra credit points, and dawdlers wasting time before reporting for detention. Evan ushered me in before him, as though he was afraid that if I didn't enter first, I would make a break for it while his back was turned.

"Look," I sighed, dropping my bag onto one of the chairs facing the chalkboard. "I don't want to hear a lot of bullshit - "

"And I won't tell you any," Evan interrupted immediately, dragging a hand through his already disheveled hair, "just let me explain, okay? I know it looked bad when - when Kendall showed up, and hugged me, and - "

I snorted, cutting him off effectively. Without looking at him again, I dropped down onto the surface of the small wooden desk nearest to me. My feet dangled a few inches above the tile floor, and I kept my eyes strictly on them, silently tracing the shape of the untied laces that fluttered as I swung my legs back and forth.

It was that name that stung the worst. The fact that he uttered it with so much confidence, so much assurance, like there was still something that drew him to it. Kendall, the girl he had claimed to have broken up with, the girl that he had appeared to greatly dislike, the girl that he had told me he had no feelings for. And yet, here he was, making excuses for putting his arm around her and embracing her.

The resolve that had filtered into me at the thought of clearing things up with Evan was beginning to disappear.

"Bailey," he murmured, and I glanced at him. He was still standing at the door, the expression plastered to his face nothing but sheepish and apologetic. "I'm sorry."

I didn't know why, but rather than feeling better, those two words only filled me with anger. I glared at him, suddenly furious. "Why do you think telling me you're sorry is going to help anything?" I demanded, recognizing the swell of satisfaction spread through me at the stricken frown pulling down his lips. "Evan, I'm not in the mood to be remedied and easily swayed. I'm tired of all these games, damn it." I mumbled the last part, realizing that what I was saying was morphing into something that had to do with much more than just Evan and Kendall, but too invested in the speech to care. "That's what my life has turned into lately. Games - and not much else, apparently. Everything, everyone is a game. I'm sick of it."