Trixy's pov
Behind me the rooftop door creaked—a sharp metal against concrete scrape that cut the low wind's hum right through.
So I turned, Zyron thinking to be at the door, after two long silent weeks waiting for him.
The one who came in was not Zyron.
The sunset silhouetted a tall young man standing in the doorway, the dying gold of the sky lighting up the deep red of his long-sleeve shirt. The black tie was narrow and knotted neatly at his throat, the crest of St. Bernard University embroidered over his left breast. The matching red pants were tapered at the bottom and polished black shoes that were shiny against the rough surface of the roof. For a brief moment, my breath got caught - a little bit of recognition and a little bit of sadness.
Jonas.
Out of all the people.
My grip on the cool railing became tighter. "What are you doing here?" The tone was flat and was like a thin ice covering the inside swirl.
