Lastnight,he’daskedthedrummer—anundercssmanfromCra’sband—whereCrahadSundaycramschool.He’dfiguredhehadnothingtodointhem,sohe’dswingbyanddoasurprisecheck:seewhetherthis“icebergsdercssman”wasactuallytakihreeboss-levelsongsseriously.
Hehadn’texpectedthatthemomenthewalkedintothelobby,he’dseeCrastandinginthecrowdlikeaghost.
Hercheeks—usuallypaleandcool—wereflushedadark,unnaturalred.Hereyes,normallylitwithreason,hadnofocusatallnow,sheshalf-lowered.Evenherbreathingwasheavy—soheavyhecouldhearitfromseveralstepsaway.
“LinChu-Qing初晴,you—”
Theteasinglinehe’dpreparedjammedinhisthroattheinstaouchedherwrist.
Eventhroughthethinfabricofhershirt,hecouldfeelhhteninglyhotherskinwas—likeshe’dbeenpulledstraightoutofafurnace.
“Letgo…”Cra’svoicewashoarse,likesandpaperscraping.Shetriedtopullherhandback,butshehadnthanywhereinherbody.“I’mgoingtobete…eseliteraturereview…”
Instinctively,shestilltriedtopushherselftowardtheelevator.
Elian’sbrowstwistedintoahardknot.
Watgher—clearlyabouttocolpse,yetstillgingstubbornlyto“cramschoolrules”—somethingsharpsurgedupinsidehim:irritation,andangerhedidn’tknowwheretoput.
“Whatreview?Youbarelystand!”
Heyankedherawayfromtheelevatorwithoutmercy.TheforcethrewCraoffbandshecollidedstraightintohissolidchest.
Afaintsoapst—,boyish—closedaroundherinstantly.
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