22| red

NADIA

It was finally Friday, and I was relieved to have a free period to work on our project about The Great Gatsby. I was working with Vicky, who seemed to be doing much better after her sickness.

We were delving deep into the novel, analyzing the themes of wealth, class, and the American Dream. Vicky was researching the historical context, while I was focused on the character development of Daisy Buchanan.

Just as we were wrapping up, the bell rang, signaling the end of the period. Vicky gathered her things and asked me to grab her bag while she stepped out for a moment. I agreed, packing up our materials and shoving her books into her bag. But as I reached for her phone, I saw a text message that made my heart skip a beat.

The message read:

Track down the Rossi's so you and your brother can finish the job.

I felt a shiver run down my spine as I read the cryptic message. What did it mean? And why was Vicky involved in something that seemed so ominous?

I tried to push the thoughts aside and focused on getting to my next class, but the message lingered in my mind. As I walked across the field, I saw a group of guys playing sports, and my eyes landed on Elijah being one of them.

He was sweating and his tank top showed off his toned arms. I tried to maintain a neutral expression, but I couldn't help but smile when he caught my eye.

"Funny seeing you here," he said, approaching me with a grin.

He was really smiling more. I thought to myself which caused my smile to widen.

I handed him Vicky's bag, trying to play it cool. "First of all, the dance room is near the field, and second, here are your sister's things." He raised an eyebrow, sensing something was off. "Did something happen?" he asked, but I brushed it off, not wanting to get into it.

Just then, one of his teammates called him over, "Bro let's go. The coach is here,"

Elijah looked down to me. "I better get going," I said as I took advantage of the distraction to make a quick escape, heading to the dance room - my sanctuary.

As I walked away, I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off, and I couldn't help but wonder what Vicky was involved in.

□□□

Once the class was over, I unzipped my duffel bag and took a refreshing gulp of cold water. I sat down on one of the chairs in the dance room, gazing at my reflection in the large mirror.

My thoughts were a jumbled mess, wondering how my life had become so complicated. It seemed like everyone around me was living a double life, and I was stuck in the middle, trying to make sense of it all.

My mind kept wandering back to the cryptic text message I had seen on Vicky's phone. I tried to rationalize it, to come up with excuses to explain it away, but nothing seemed to add up. The more I thought about it, the more my head spun.

Just as I was getting lost in my thoughts, I heard a knock on the door. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was - those piercing grey eyes were already gazing at me through the mirror.

I took another sip of water, feeling a sense of trepidation as Elijah entered the room.

He hopped up onto the counter in front of me, his athletic build and chiseled features making my heart race. "What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant despite the butterflies in my stomach.

"To rehearse our gala dance, of course," he replied with a charming smile. But I knew that wasn't it - I could tell there was something else. "And to finish last night's conversation," he added, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I sat up straight, my face flushing as I remembered our phone call from the night before.

I had fallen asleep mid-conversation, and the only reason I knew that was because my phone was still plastered to my cheek when I woke up. "Where I even got to hear you snore," he teased, making me gasp in embarrassment.

I threw my water bottle at him, but he caught it effortlessly, his eyes never leaving mine. I bit my lip, feeling my face grow even hotter. "I don't snore," I protested, crossing my arms over my chest.

Elijah chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "I think you do," he said, taking a sip from my bottle. I blinked, my mind racing with the thought of him listening to me snore over the phone.

He pulled a chair close, our faces inches apart, the heat of our bodies palpable. "Remember the question you asked me last night?" he asked, his voice low and husky. I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest.

"I would've said yes," he continued, his eyes locked on mine, "but that wouldn't have been a proper way to ask a lady." He tucked one of my braids behind my ear, his fingers sending shivers down my spine.

"So," he began, his voice dripping with charm, "will you go out on a proper date with me?"