Senshi (A Katana Novel) by Cole Gibsen Page A

over?” I shuddered. “I hope you used sanitizer.”
    He pulled a bottle of Purell from his bag and held it up. “Of course I did. I don’t have a death wish.” He dropped the bottle back into the bag.
    I nodded. “Okay, but why the need to bulk up? And why not tell me about it?”
    He shrugged and made his way down the hall, forcing me to follow. “I didn’t realize I had to run everything I do by you.”
    His words hit me like an invisible wall and I jerked to a halt. “What?”
    He stopped walking and looked at me, only he wasn’t really looking at me. There was something about his eyes, a glazed-over quality, like he couldn’t quite focus on any one thing.
    What the hell was going on with him? The mood swings, the dazed expression … was he on drugs? My skin began to buzz with invisible electricity—a warning that I had to get my emotions under control and quick. I placed my hand on my hip and took a deep breath.
    Quentin blinked rapidly and shook his head. When he looked at me again his eyes were focused. “I’m sorry. It’s these damn stress migraines. I thought if I exercised a bit more, my brain would release enough serotonin to counteract the migraine-causing norepinephrine produced from stress.”
    That sounded a little more like the Q I knew and loved. When the prickling sensation receded, I looked at him. “But what stress is causing the nor-uh-whatever? Is it me? Because I can’t control my ki?”
    His eyes widened. “You think this has to do with your ki?”
    My hand fell from my hip. “Doesn’t it?”
    “No, Ri-Ri.” His face hardened. “It’s not always all about you, you know.”
    I flinched like I’d been hit. “Q … I didn’t mean … I didn’t—”
    “I have no idea why I said that.” His eyes widened and he looked horrified. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear I didn’t mean it. This migraine is killer and I’ve had it for a couple of days now. It’s … I … I don’t know. It’s making me act crazy.” He dropped his hand from his head and took my hands within his. “I’m sorry I snapped at you like that. You forgive me, right?”
    I nodded dumbly. I could understand a migraine making someone cranky. Lord knew, I turned into a snarling she-beast every time I got PMS. But this felt more extreme than just a headache. “Of course I forgive you. We’re best friends, right?”
    He smiled and squeezed my hands once before releasing them. “Totally. And we’ll talk. I promise.” He glanced at the clock on the wall.
    “You have somewhere to be?” I guessed.
    “I’m sorry.” He gave me a pleading look. “But I only have forty minutes to shower and get dressed. You know I need at least twenty minutes to make my hair look like I didn’t do it.”
    I sighed. “I know.”
    He gave me a quick hug. “We’re going to talk. Soon. I promise.”
    “Ew. Go shower.” I pushed him away and ushered him toward the locker room door. “Before your man stink rubs off on me.”
    He gave me one last squeeze before hoisting the duffel bag over his shoulder and taking off down the hall.
    I folded my arms across my chest as I watched him walk away. Despite his assurances that he had a migraine, I couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that something was wrong. It was like an itch on the wrong side of my skin. If there was something else going on with him, I had to get to the bottom of it.
    “Hey, Rileigh.”
    Startled, I spun around and almost planted my nose in the center of Carson Ashcroft’s chest.
    “Oops, sorry.” He laughed as he took a step back, exposing his straight, white teeth. He was tall and lean with jagged brown hair that fell to his cheeks. A dozen multi-colored bracelets adorned one wrist while a two-inch thick wrist cuff covered the other. I’d seen him around the park enough to know he was good skater. Almost as good as me.
    Carson was definitely swoon-worthy. Or, at least he would have been, before Kim. Now he didn’t even