He slowed when he saw Maya surrounded by the three men. For half a second, Mia thought he might speak. Instead, he took out his phone. Maya looked away. That hurt more than she wanted it to.
Mason moved closer. You've been making things complicated. I go to class. Mia said, "I go to work. I go home."
"Exactly," Tyler replied. "You act like you're above everybody." Maya almost laughed at the absurdity of it. 10 days earlier, she had arrived at Riverton, hoping to disappear into ordinary life. She had wanted lectures and bus schedules, cheap coffee between classes, a degree that might lead somewhere stable.
She wanted to come home to her mother tired from studying instead of tired from surviving another problem. She had never wanted Tyler Whitmore to know her name. Now he said it constantly. Bennett like an accusation. Maya stepped left.
Mason stepped with her. She went right. Tyler blocked that side. Evan kept filming. Guys, Ma said quietly.
I'm asking once more. Let me leave. Mason laughed. Listen to that. Tyler's expression remained pleasant.
That was one of the things Maya disliked most about him. He could make cruelty sound administrative. "Why are you so tense?" He asked. "Nobody's doing anything to you."
Maya stared at him. Behind Tyler, through the glass doors, she could see the wet parking deck and the yellow glow of street lights reflected in puddles. Freedom was perhaps 20 ft away. Mason moved beside her. His shoulder struck hers, not hard enough to knock her down, hard enough to make the message clear.
Maya's fingers tightened once around the strap of her bag, then relaxed. She heard her father's voice as clearly as if Marcus Bennett were standing beside her. Strength is knowing what you could do and choosing what you should do. She breathed in slowly through her nose. Four counts.
Held it. Released. Tyler noticed. What was that? What?
That breathing thing? Mason snorted. Maybe she's scared. Maya said nothing. She was scared.
That was the part men like Mason never understood. Courage wasn't the absence of fear. It was knowing exactly what fear was doing inside your body and refusing to hand it the steering wheel. Tyler reached suddenly toward the lanyard hanging from Maya's neck. She could have stopped him.
Her body knew the answer before her mind finished recognizing the movement. Turn. Trap. Step. Tyler's wrist would have been controlled before he understood what had happened.
Instead, Maya remained still. Tyler pulled her Riverton student ID free and held it between two fingers. Maya Bennett, business administration. The photograph showed the same composed face now staring at him. Tyler examined it theatrically.
Look at that. Official student. Give it back. You know what? I don't understand.