Good Guy

Part Nineteen

She knew she had to shake Adelih's words off. It wasn't like Adelih knew Scotch personally. And between him and Jackson, Cleo obviously trusted Scotch more. However, it wasn't set in stone that he trusted her just as much, or at least with whatever past Adelih had been alluding to. She wasn't going to lie and say that this didn't disappoint her, but it's not like she could do anything.

This dilemma ran rampant in Cleo's head throughout the next few days. She and Scotch were just as close as ever, but Adelih's revelations had somehow caused her to form her own barrier against Scotch—and she didn't like it one bit. Even now, as she reached for her phone to answer a call from him, she could feel that wall of caution rising up again.

Cleo fished the phone from her pocket and raised it to her ear, all the while telling herself that Scotch was still himself no matter the circumstances.

'Hey, Freshie.' His voice came through the phone, sending tingles over her spine as always. Her heart beat triple time just 'hearing' his grin come through the line. It was a mystery how she could still be so drawn in by him despite all the misgivings recently plaguing her.

"Hey, Scotch," she replied, wincing at how hesitant her greeting was.

'Are you ready to go home?' he asked. She could hear the sounds of other students conversing in the background. If she had to take a guess, she'd say that Scotch's own classes had just finished.

"Yeah—um... just about." The pauses in her sentence were more obvious this time around. She didn't even know if they were there because she was doubting him or because she was head over heels crazy about him. Her conflicting emotions were getting in the way, and if she didn't fix this soon, he was bound to notice.

'Cleo, are you okay? You sounded kind of funny there for a moment.'

And of course, he just had to notice immediately.

Darnit. He was as sharp as ever, so Cleo knew she had to be just as good at covering up. "Yeah. Of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and Cleo desperately prayed he would take the bait. If he didn't stop his prodding, she was most probably going to spill some secrets and create a whole new smorgasbord of problems for Scotch. She never again wanted to see him as wasted as during that time the other night, or as distraught as he had been at Shayla's place.

'It must've been the reception or something then,' he said at last, and Cleo managed to breathe a sigh of relief. 'Are we meeting at the usual place?'

"I kinda have to drop by at the college offices first." Cleo picked up the sheets of writing paper on the desk in front of her and rifled through them, proud of how neat and legible her paragraphs looked. Some of their teachers, specifically the old-timers, still preferred physical outputs when assigning homework, and Cleo was more than happy with that. She was glad that she hadn't spent all those years improving her penmanship for nothing. "Professor Claravera has this essay he wanted us to make, and it's due tomorrow. I thought I'd leave it at his cubicle today so I wouldn't have to worry about it anymore."

'That's smart. I can meet you in front of his office, if that's okay.'

He was absolutely the sweetest guy on campus, and she was bound to die of infatuation. And she hated how this strange rumor about being almost sent to prison followed him around like a shadow. It wasn't fair to someone as nice as him. "Thanks, Scotch."

'You do know you don't need to thank me,' he said, laughter mixing in with his words. 'See ya later?'

A lump formed in Cleo's throat. She'd had enough phone calls from him to know that those four syllables usually meant he was about to hang up. But she didn't want him to, and she wasn't even sure why.