Dorm walls had ears, and Americus's heard everything.
Silver closed the heavy wooden door behind her with deliberate quietness, the ancient brass latch clicking into place with a sound that seemed unnaturally loud in the charged atmosphere of their small room. Her heart was still maintaining the rapid pace it had adopted during her walk back from the rink, each beat echoing in her ears like applause from an audience she didn't want to face.
She leaned against the solid oak door for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, trying to will away the phantom sensation of Carroway's lips brushing against her knuckles. The gesture had been smooth, practiced, designed to linger in her memory like expensive perfume that refused to fade. But instead of feeling flattered or desired, she mostly felt marked—like he'd left some invisible claim on her that she couldn't quite scrub away.
