Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 135378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Even subtle praise from him feels like Uncle Scrooge handing over a bagful of money, so I find myself glowing under it. “Thank you. Um, I don’t know. The social aspect doesn’t matter much to me, but I guess it’s a bit harder. My mom has been on me to put myself out there and make friends, but I just… don’t really want to.”
“Have you always been that way? Must have been a constant struggle if she pushed you in an unnatural direction.”
No.
I don’t like admitting it and have made it a forced habit not to, but for whatever reason, when he asks, I tell the truth.
“No,” I say softly. “I wasn’t always like this.” I swallow, the words feeling unusually thick and heavy as they roll off my tongue.
The admission causes an uncomfortable stinging sensation behind my eyes. Light moisture gathers, but it’s not enough to form tears, so I’m not worried I’ll start crying.
“Sometimes I feel like I was meant to be someone else. I wanted to be someone else. I think I was on the path to be, but… my natural inclinations tend to lead me toward bad situations where I get… hurt. I can’t always trust my instincts,” I say, shaking my head. “They’re not very good.”
His brow furrows with concern, but he doesn’t say anything.
“I guess it’s just easier not to let anyone close, you know? Anytime I do, I get hurt, and I just… I’m tired of hurting.”
Self-conscious of the deeply personal thing I just revealed to my professor, of all people, I grab my hot chocolate and gulp down the rest.
“Well, I better go,” I say, not waiting for him to say anything else. “I have a ton of homework, and I need to go to my mom’s tonight, so…” I keep my gaze directed away from him as I gather my papers.
“Sophie, if you ever want to talk—about anything, not just the course material—my office is always open. I’m generally in there all alone during office hours anyway,” he says with a faint smile as he catches my gaze. “I wouldn’t mind the company.”
My stomach rocks when I meet his eyes. I nod, but I look away quickly, clumsily shoving papers into my bag. “Thanks. I might take you up on that.”
“I hope you do.”
His words feel intimate and make my stomach rock even more.
When I flee the coffee shop, I don’t know what to feel or think. I’m still a bit raw from the admissions he just dragged out of me, and I’m a little worried about what he might manage to draw out if I saw him again.
The truth is, before I met Silvan and he turned my whole world topsy-turvy, I was starting to develop a bit of a crush on Professor DeMarco. I literally fantasized about an opportunity to have a moment alone with him, but with the nervous feeling he gave me, I also wasn’t sure I’d survive it.
I feel like I barely made it out alive today. I don’t manage to entirely calm myself down until I make it back to my dorm, but I’m distracted enough thinking about Professor DeMarco’s apparent desire for my company that I forget to be paranoid about the possibility of Silvan lurking in my hallway.
He’s not there anyway.
Once I return to my empty dorm and secure the lock, I feel a flutter of hope that maybe this is it.
Maybe it’s over.
I can’t explain why he would give up on me so abruptly when he just sent a car for me this morning, but I’ve been abandoned at the drop of a hat before, so I don’t feel terribly shocked.
Just relieved.
Sure, maybe in a deep, dark corner of the most broken part of my psyche is a tiny flare of disappointment. To be chased so relentlessly and then dropped like nothing would be jarring and confusing, but what prisoner questions their luck when the shackles come undone?
I wait all night for him to reappear in my life, but there’s no text. No car.
Mom comes to pick me up and take me to her house, where we have dinner, and I get my car back.
I watch the headlights in my rearview and still feel a sense of paranoia as I make my way back to the dorm, but there’s no sign of him. When I turn out all my lights and climb into bed, I don’t even have that same feeling I’ve had before of his presence lingering in the air around me.
I feel free.
I don’t know why, but I don’t care.
It was an odd chapter in my life, that’s all.
Now I can turn the page and see what comes next.
When I close my eyes, a sense of anticipation I haven’t felt since the very start of the school year fills me. Maybe I even feel a little lighter because of what I told Professor DeMarco at the coffee shop. I don’t know.