I lower my eyes, trying to give the poor guy a modicum of privacy, even though it’s impossible in this situation. Several people laugh and make little comments until Hilbrand brings the class back to order. “I suggest you all focus on your studies. If you thought getting into this school was hard, it was a mere precursor for what’s to come. I promise that if you can’t keep up, there is someone waiting to take your place. I’ll see you all Wednesday. Read the assigned course material and start gathering your thoughts on the topic for your first drafts.”
The sounds of closing laptops and murmurs fill my ears as I pack up my own things. If I could teleport out of this room, I would. Instead, I linger until almost everyone else has left.
Just before picking up my bag, I glance down at the stage area, not expecting to see Gravlin standing next to the professor since he wasn’t before, and he seems to be staring right at me. I duck my head after meeting his eye. Just as I rise from my seat and turn up the aisle to leave, I nearly run into someone else.
He grins down at me with twinkling blue eyes.
“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be coming this way,” I mumble as I take one step back down the aisle to catch my footing, and it makes him seem even taller because of the angle.
There’s an awkward pause where I’m just staring up at him, waiting for him to say something back, and I eventually hear, “Do you ever watch where you’re going?” The familiarity of the voice catches me off guard. Never once have the voices in my head interacted with me or been so clear. Why is this happening right now?
The guy in front of me tilts his head to the side, his eyebrows lowering. Oh hell, he’s probably wondering why I look so shocked, or maybe I’m panicked.
“Don’t be a dick, Memphis,” he chastises.
Now I know I’m losing my mind, because I know both of these voices, and his lips moved, so I know he’s actually speaking. Plus, it’s almost like he’s responding to the voice as if he can hear it too. I need to get the hell out of here.
Where are my pills? I duck to the left, avoiding the guy in front of me, and try to dash out of the class as fast as I can without actually running, but before I make it to the door I hear, “You scared her away.” Helpless not to, I look over my shoulder and see Gravlin and the guy I almost ran into today facing each other, but both are watching me. I almost stop to see if I can hear them speak again to see if maybe I was imagining how much they sounded like two of the voices I’ve always heard, but I’m too afraid, so I push my way out the door and haul ass out of the building into the sweltering heat outside.
There’s not enough air, and everything feels thick around me. I glance around, wondering if everyone is witnessing my freak-out. I pull my phone out of my pocket. Should I call Maxwell, my therapist? I’ve never had an emergency call, so if I call him now, will they want me to come back home for in-person visits to evaluate my meds?
I tuck my phone away. That’s too big of a step right now. It’s my first day, and there are bound to be hiccups. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me, because those voices weren’t in my head at all. I have no idea why my brain processed them the way it did, but it has to be wrong. There isn’t another explanation. These are all the things I tell myself as I fight to take deep, even breaths.
My fear eclipsed my embarrassment, but as I begin to calm, I remember I left them both standing there while I ran from the room. “Great,” I hiss, frustrated with myself.
When I’m plodding down the walkway, I decide this is the last time I’m walking to school. If I had my car, I could escape faster and not have a heart attack while doing it. Instead of heading to one of the dorms for lunch like I planned, I turn down a sidewalk that will have me reentering the English building from the other side in another hall, far away from my class and both guys.
THE FINE ART OF BULLSHIT
It takes the entire two-hour break I have between classes to convince myself to actually go to math, and even then, it’s only with the promise that I will turn around and go straight home if I happen to run into any more problems, especially the two I can’t seem to get out of my head. I decided not to call Maxwell before our scheduled phone appointment. I don’t want to send up any red flags.
I do contemplate dying my hair to aid me in becoming unrecognizable though, not that I think either one of them will remember what I look like anyway. Hell, their faces are blurry in my head right now.
“Anyone sitting here?” a male voice—blessedly unfamiliar—asks after a bag is dropped on the seat next to me.
“No, you’re good.” I barely look up from my phone.
The guy sighs as he tucks himself into the rigid chair. His arm brushes mine, and a riot of nerves erupts in my stomach. Damn it, I thought I was getting myself under control.
“You look smart,” is his opening line. I’m not really sure how to take it. Being smart certainly isn’t an insult, but how does one look smart? “I suck at math,” he continues. “I’m probably going to need all the help I can get.”
I finally look over at him, thinking seeing his face will help me understand his intentions, because I’m getting the feeling he’s expecting me to help him. He smiles at me when I look over. His bottom teeth are a little crooked, but it doesn’t detract from how cute he is. His eyes are almost pale, but the blue is too vivid for that to be an accurate description. He’s lean, but I can see the muscles in his arms, even while he’s at rest.
“I kind of suck at math,” I warn him.
“Shit, I mean darn.” He winces but covers it quickly with a smile I’m sure has gotten him out of trouble many times.
“I won’t be offended if you want to sit somewhere else,” I tell him sincerely.
“Nah, but I appreciate your honesty…unless you really are good at math and you’re just trying to get rid of me,” he teases in a self-deprecating way, but the curl of his lip makes it obvious he’s confident that’s not going to happen.
“I’m not horrible, but it’s definitely not my favorite subject, and I’ll have to work to keep up myself.”
“Is that your way of saying I should stay?” He lifts his bag as if he might leave if I don’t ask him to stay, but I’m not going to do that. He’s cute—hell, cute probably isn’t a strong enough word for what he is—but I’m not looking for a hookup, and he has hookup written all over his pretty face.
“That’s your decision, but you better decide quickly, the seats are filling up fast.” I cast my eyes around the room.
“I think I’ll take my chances with you. I bet you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.” I almost roll my eyes. He’s a charmer, that’s for sure. I should probably tell him he would have better luck in that department somewhere else too, but it’s just one class, and he helped me stop thinking about what happened in English—until now.
