What’s going on?
I’m not really sure, I can’t get a straight answer out of anyone. Tension is high, so I came over here.
Just wanted to make sure you were safe.
I am. I wish I could see you.
The dots bounce for several minutes, and my insecurities grow as my impatience wanes.
Me too.
I wonder what he must’ve typed and deleted only to end up sending that. Even though I’m desperate to keep him talking, clinging to every small scrap of himself that he shares, I can’t bring myself to ask him for what I really want.
Are you at home?
Yeah. I have some friends staying over for the holidays. What are your plans?
I’ll probably go back home at some point. I do want to see my mom and sisters.
What about your dad?
Now it’s my turn to pause as I ponder what to share.
My dad passed away when I was younger, but I’m excited to see my stepdad.
I’m sorry, pet. I didn’t know.
It’s okay. He was pretty awful. My mom doesn’t talk about him much, but I know he was abusive towards her. I don’t really remember much about him.
Did he ever hurt you?
I don’t think so. Or I don’t remember it if he did. I was really young when my mom left him.
Is he the man in your dreams?
I thought you said you weren’t a therapist.
I’m not, but it would make sense.
That’s my therapist’s theory as well.
I wish I was there so I could hold you in my arms while you sleep, keep you safe from your nightmares.
His text is surprisingly honest, and I’m shocked by his candor. He’s not normally one to share how he feels, especially since he made not sharing feelings a rule.
Breaking rules, sir? I want you here too.
Can we meet at the club?
The dots bounce for several minutes and then disappear, and I’m left feeling empty and alone. Why did I push him like that? He’s the only person I’ve made a connection with this year and I don’t want to lose that. Sure, I have Ella and Alyx, but I spend so much of my time studying or reading—or trying to make sure I pass Professor A-hole’s stupid class—that I’ve pretty much given up on trying to make new friends. But it’s almost a new year and a new semester. Who knows what it will bring?
CHAPTER 13
EMMA
Iswallow my nerves as I walk into my Shakespearean acting class in January. When I spot Professor A-hole already in the front of the room, I quickly drop my gaze to avoid making eye contact with him and I find a seat near the back. This classroom is much smaller than the lecture hall we were in last semester. Normally, I’d choose a seat closer to the front, but I’m determined to fly under his radar.
Setting my bag in the seat, I start pulling out notebooks and pens.
