He glances down at the screen of my laptop again before looking back up. “Just be careful, okay?”
I’m saved from having to figure out how to respond tothatwhen the microwave beeps. He opens the door, takes out the container that has steam rising from it, and grabs a fork from a drawer.
“Good night, Jackson.”
He doesn’t spare me another glance as he heads out of the kitchen and probably back to his study.
It feels like the first time in a long time that one of our conversations didn’t end with one or both of us shouting. For some reason, it has me feeling a little more uneasy than if it had.
Trying to push it out of my mind, I finish up with dinner. Scooping it all into a bowl, I set it aside and leave the skillet to soak in the sink. I shut my laptop, tuck it under my arm, and carry my food back out to the guesthouse.
While I eat, I try to look a little more into Dylan, but I’m getting nowhere. I probably never would’ve gone through with blackmailing my professor anyway. I don’t think I could ever sink that low.
Just as I decide to give up, an email notification pops up on the screen. I click on it without thinking, expecting spam.
And then a chill rushes through my bloodstream.
From:Dylan Ross
To:Jackson Ellis
Subject:Hello, Jackson.
Looking for me?
The email has been burninga fucking hole in my computer.
I didn’t respond last night. I’m not sure if I should.
Despite getting to sleep in a little longer since I haven’t been welcome in my world literature class this week, I’m still fucking exhausted all day after staying up late to finish that stupid paper. And I didn’t even finish it. I’ve been pulling out my laptop between classes to get it done.
I’ve also been running several different anti-virus programs ever since that email came through. Because how could Dylan—ifthat was even him—know that I was looking him up? The thought that someone’s been watching me that closely has had me wanting to crawl out of my skin.
At the end of the day, I head to the computer center to print out my paper since I plan on handing it over in person like last time. On par with my luck lately, the printer fucking jams, and I spend far too long getting the single sheet of paper that caused the problem out one tiny shred at a time.
It’s already twenty minutes past five by the time I’m sprinting down the hallway toward Professor Kendall’s office. I expect him to already be gone, but when I knock, his voice on the other side says to come in.
I open the door, panting as I step through it.
“You’re late.” He peers up at me from where he sits at his desk.
Just seeing that hard look in his gaze makes me wish I had responded to that email. I was looking for something to use against him, and now I may have the means of getting it. But I can’t help being hesitant and suspicious of some mysterious stranger who’s clearly somehow been spying on me.
“Close the door.”
I do before crossing the room, dropping the slightly crumpled stack of papers in front of him. “Printer jammed,” I tell him between heaving breaths.
“You could’ve emailed it.”
“So you can claim you never got it and report me anyway?”
“You really think so little of me?” He leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers together over his stomach.And that damn suit vest.
I force my eyes to meet his and shrug. “Youthink so little ofme.”
The only authority I’m used to disrespecting is my father, but I’m so fucking tired of Professor Kendall having some kind of vendetta against me.
“If that was true, I wouldn’t have given you credit for the last paper. It was good.” He stares at me for another few seconds before saying, “I also wouldn’t have been here waiting on you. I’d be on my way home right now.”
