Blind Spot - Katana Collins Page 0,3

it was officially mine. “It is pretty great, isn’t it?”

Another slamming sound came from above, followed by a chorus of shouts.

Harrison grinned, ignoring the party, and looked to me with raised eyebrows. “It is. My dad says it’s one of the safest buildings in Charleston.”

“Then how come you didn’t get this place?” Reagan asked, dabbing the grease off of her slice with a napkin.

Harrison grew quiet and looked down at his shoes. “Oh, you know…it’s a little small for me.” He looked up sheepishly, and a stray bit of dark hair fell into his eyes. He brushed it back with a shrug.

That same excitement I had been feeling all day dropped, and my stomach turned. “Is that how I got this apartment?” I asked quietly. Part of me didn’t want to know the answer. “Did your dad pull strings to get me in here?”

“Naw.” He shrugged, turning away, and dropped to the floor, reaching for his own slice of pizza.

I dove forward, sliding the box away. “Harrison…” I warned, narrowing my eyes at him.

Finally, he sighed. “Fine…kind of. When this apartment opened up, it was too small for me, but I also knew you had an application in for the building. He made a call.” My glare hardened as heat burned through my gut, and out of instinct, I brushed a finger over the scar at my temple. It sliced down my hairline to the base of my ear. My knuckle swept across the wisps of my long bangs, and I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “One call.” Harrison threw his hands into the air. “That was it, I swear.”

“I don’t want his help. Ever.” That man had made my life a living hell for years. I didn’t care if he was genuinely trying to make amends. It was too little too late.

He continued to stare at the corner of the trunk. “All right. I’m sorry.”

“Harrison, I mean it—”

“I know. I get it,” he said, finally looking at me. “I’m sorry. But for the record, he did it for me as much as you. It means a lot to me that you’re in a safe place, especially now that your mom…” He trailed off, swallowing. “Now that you’re on your own. Don’t make it into something bigger than that. You’re happy here. Let yourself be happy.”

I gave in, nodding. Harrison loved me—he was the closest thing to a brother I’d ever have, and he was just trying to make my life easier. I couldn’t blame him for that.

I slid the pizza box back over to his end of the table.

“If it helps, I don’t think his call even did anything. Your application was next up, anyway.” He grabbed a slice and grunted as melted cheese slid off.

It did help. A little. But I wasn’t about to say that out loud. “Should we study?” I grabbed the used French book I had just picked up for classes tomorrow and crossed my fingers that the person before me was some sort of genius who took awesome notes in the margins.

Ugh, French. The necessary evil I needed to pass in order to get my international business degree. I’d known Spanish for years. And Italian was relatively similar, but French was a bitch. Languages never came easy for me to begin with, so why I chose international business was a mystery, even to me. Well, except the fact that it was almost a guaranteed job placement. Business degrees were solid, and international business? That meant I wasn’t limited to only domestic jobs; I had my pick of the world—in theory.

I cracked open the French book, reviewing what I had learned last year as another round of screams came from above, this one followed by the sound of a glass shattering. “Oh, for the love of God, come on,” I shouted to no one.

“Just ignore them, Shelby.”

“I can’t.” I popped to my feet, grabbed a broom from beside the stove, and slammed the tip into the ceiling. “I am not going to spend an entire year dealing with this.” I grunted with each strike above.

“They’re not gonna hear you,” Harrison offered gently. “Let’s just put on our own music and drown them out.”

Twenty minutes passed, and a headache throbbed behind my eyes. “Is it just me, or is it getting louder?”

Harrison put a hand to his temple, rubbing in circles. “Okay, it’s not just you.” He nearly had to shout to be heard over the music.

“We should join them,” Reagan squealed. “Classes haven’t even started