“Oliver is just Oliver. He’s my favorite,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
That was definitely a guy’s name.
Julian’s face, which had just started to soften, turned cold all over again.
So she hated him, but loved some guy named Oliver. Great. First there was Casey, now Oliver. If she added one more, they could start their own poker night. How many guys did she have in her life?
The bathroom fell into a heavy silence. Julian felt a sudden urge to strangle her.
He watched as she slid down the wall, not even bothering to help. Whatever. If Oliver was so important, Oliver could come take care of her.
Just as Julian was stewing, footsteps echoed from outside.
A group of girls came in, chatting and laughing.
Julian scowled. The last thing he needed was to be caught like this and called a freak.
As the steps got closer, he swore under his breath, scooped Madeline up, and ducked them both into a stall.
The girls lingered by the sinks, still deep in conversation.
Cramped in the stall, Madeline wriggled in his arms, trying to get away. Her arm bumped the wall with a soft thump. “Let me go,” she mumbled. “Don’t hold me…”
Her quiet voice carried to the girls outside.
Julian could hear the footsteps coming closer, drawn by the noise.
His mood darkened even more, but Madeline just wouldn’t settle. “Touch me again and I’ll scream,” she threatened, her voice shaky.
“Be quiet,” Julian muttered, his voice low and tight with anger. He was seriously ready to lose it.
A knock came at the stall door. “Miss, are you okay in there? Do you need any help?”
Julian quickly clamped a hand over Madeline’s mouth, holding her still.



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