Armand:What happened?
Armand:Lucas, I’m sorry, I hope you’re airtight
Armand:*alright
July 24th
I hadn’t heard from Lucas or Robin in several days, which presumably meant I no longer had any friends. Bianca, one of the ranch hands whose daughter lived near campus, drove me to and from The End Is Neigh, but ever since Darren had showed up at the ranch, I hadn’t seen Lucas or Cheyenne at all.
This morning I was doing fence maintenance—some of the horses loved scratching themselves on the posts, which slowly collapsed, becoming increasingly horizontal and stretching out the wires. It was my job to walk along the fence and do the little repairs I could by hand, and mark where we might need new postholes. I’d stopped to rub the nose of Hortense—one of the sillier but sweeter senior horses—when I heard the puttering of a golf cart.
I turned to see Cheyenne Barclay pull up in the “feed wagon,” and she hopped out to set a bucket in front of Hortense, who no longer cared even a little bit about me.
“Hey, Skyler.” She grinned. Her blonde hair was in a tiny ponytail and a plaid shirt was knotted at her waist over high-rise jeans. It was weird—she looked like a stereotype of her job. “You doing okay?”
I smiled. I’d been hoping to run into her to ask about Lucas, but she’d been away from the ranch on non-horse-related business. “Yeah, thanks. Um. How’s Lucas?”
She sighed. “He’s okay, poor baby. Just a bad breakup with Darren, which I can’t say I didn’t see coming. He’s staying with some friends right now, but he’ll be back soon. I’m sure.”
No wonder I hadn’t heard from him. For some reason I couldn’t figure out, Lucas had really loved his boyfriend, and I was positive that, whatever had happened, it wasn’t his fault. “That’s awful,” I said, trying not to think about Lucas “Eternal Positivity and Sunshine” Barclay being emotionally devastated. “I mean, I did meet Darren once and he was ...” Was talking about this with Cheyenne unprofessional?Screw it.“Kind of a dick to Lucas.”
But Cheyenne didn’t chide me. She leaned in closer, eyes wide. “He was always a dick! That boy’s been toxic for years, and I know why Lucas never listened tomeabout him, but I kept hoping maybe he’d realize it and break things off. Just ...” Her face fell. “I hate that it ended like this.”
I nodded, pulling off one of my work gloves so I could scratch my nose. “I hope he’s not being too hard on himself.” I hadn’t known Lucas that long, only a couple of weeks, but that had been long enough to notice that as nice as he was to other people, he could be pretty mean to himself.
“I hope so too.” Cheyenne came over and thoughtfully considered the work I’d done on the fence. “This is looking good! Hand me those pliers, would you?”
I kept working until midafternoon, when Bianca drove me back to campus, then I took a quick shower and headed to the arts building, where Professor Demetrio had asked me to meet him.
I checked my phone as I walked, but there were no new messages. It was understandable why Lucas wasn’t responding to my texts. But I still had no idea why Robin was doing the same thing. I hadn’t heard from him all weekend, since we’d had tea and I’d told him about ... her.
I hadn’t told anyone about her before.
It was a little unsettling to think about how easily it had come out of me, after months and months of keeping my feelings for Delia locked down, knowing they would ruin everything for her and Matt if either of them ever suspected. And for some reason Robin had seemed so eager to know about me ...
He’d wanted to divert the conversation away from his assault.
God, I was stupid.
I still believed that Robin should report Terri—it seemed like the best way to try to ensure his own safety on campus—but had I forced that issue too strongly? We had only just met, and the both of us wanted a friend, and maybe I’d already scared him off. I should’ve been gentler, should’ve used that time to make sure he felt comfortable, to talk about something other than that traumatic evening ...
Robin must’ve been hesitant to text me back. Still, I sent him a quick message to see how he was doing.
The message stayed on read.
Nothing to do but wait. Wait and see a man about a job.
Armand had wanted me to bring someone with me for the run-through, but the only person I would’ve asked was Lucas, and even if Ihadheard from him, it didn’t seem like he’d be up for naked-model chaperoning.
I reached the art classroom and knocked; a muffled voice called, “Aye, come on in.”
The lecture hall was currently abandoned save for the man stooped over the desk at the front. The last time I’d met Professor Demetrio—no, wait, he wanted me to call himArmand—we’d been in his tiny office, where he’d been hunched into a seat. He was slouching now, but was still absurdly tall and broad.
He looked up past scraggly, dark curls, raised his eyebrows, and muttered in that gravelly English accent, “Ah, Skyler, you made it. On your own, then?”
“Yes, sir.” I gave him a smile that turned apologetic when he winced. “Right, I forgot you don’t like being called ‘sir.’”
“It’s fine. Er, shall we get started?” He seemed distracted, but maybe he was nervous. He’d been awkward last time we’d met, though not for any apparent reason. Just, baseline awkward.
