didn’t hear her and just keep walking, but I had a feeling she’d just go after me. I took a breath and turned around. " H-hi Alicia!"
Alicia Rhodes was as bubbly as ever, completely disregarding the awkward that hung between us as she pulled me in for a hug. When she released me, she let out a nervou s chuckle, toying with her blond ponytail. "Y-You look great! "
She was lying, but her attempt made me smile in spite of myself. "Thanks." I glanced a t her sun kissed skin, sparkling even beneath fluorescent lights. "Emerald Isle looks good on you."
"Best summer ever!" Her face fell immediately as it came out . "Oh god Cass, I didn't mean-"
I waved a hand, dismissing it. "It's totally fine. Really."
"I tried to call you," she offered. "And email. Mom and I wanted you to come up and get away from it all for a week or two."
I felt the sob rise in my throat, remembering her emails and texts. Hers were the only ones I responded to and even then, it was no more than a one word response. But seeing her now, knowing she was worried about me, then and now, I couldn’t fight the tears that welled in my eyes. I wanted to say something, tell her that e very note from her was like a life vest whenever I began to drown, but I knew it would ensure I had a break down.
She brought me in for another hug, squeezing tight. "I'm so sorry about your dad , Cassandra ."
I stood there awkwardly, taking it for a moment before I extricated myself with a laugh that sounded like someone stabbed me in the gut. “Oh it’s fine. I’m fine.”
Her eyes narrowed, seeing right through me . It probably didn’t help that I’d just used ‘fine’ three times in the last five minutes . “It’s okay if you’re not fine, you know.”
“I know.” I clutched the straps of my backpack so tight that my nails dug into the palm of my hand. “Well, I’ll see you later!” I pushed through the door to the stairwell, feeling her gaze f ollow me as I took two steps at a time.
I wanted to pretend I’d done a good job and came off normal- ish , but that would be another lie. I’d barely made it through a conversation with Alicia, and now I had to sit through a class fu l l of English majors I ’d known for the past four years--and the one professor I couldn’t duck away from.
Dr. Madison sent two arrangements after the accident and when I didn’t answer her emails, came to my apartment for an awkward cup of coffee. She was my faculty advisor and I’d been looking forward to her British Lit c lass since I was a freshman, but now I hovered i n the corner a few feet from 214 , afraid to walk through the door.
I inhaled deep and moved forward , peering into the classroom window as I reached for the doorknob. I shrank back when I saw a man perched on the edge of the desk at the front of the room . I could count all the male professors in the English department on one hand and none of them were below the age of 50. The guy who was staring out at the class couldn’t be more than 30.
I could only make o ut his side profile, but it was more than enough to make me b lush in approval. Chestnut colored hair hung in shaggy waves around his angular jaw . Tanned skin was accentuated by a black button down shirt that he had rolled up to the elbow, paired with midnight colored jeans. There was something familiar about the way he carried himself. He exuded confidence and sex appeal, t urning something as effortless as leaning into someth ing that made me wish I’d taken a little longer getting ready this morning . When I saw the dark flash of a tattoo peek f rom beneath his arm cuff , a gasp shot from my lips like a bullet.
It couldn’t be.
Hi s hair should have been longer and unruly. The guy I knew wouldn’t have a tan because he spent his days indoors with his nose stuck in a book. He was twenty-seven and a doctoral candidate when we met at Royal Bean, bonding over bone dry cappuccinos with a sprinkl e of raw sugar on top. We gushed over Tolstoy and
Alicia Rhodes was as bubbly as ever, completely disregarding the awkward that hung between us as she pulled me in for a hug. When she released me, she let out a nervou s chuckle, toying with her blond ponytail. "Y-You look great! "
She was lying, but her attempt made me smile in spite of myself. "Thanks." I glanced a t her sun kissed skin, sparkling even beneath fluorescent lights. "Emerald Isle looks good on you."
"Best summer ever!" Her face fell immediately as it came out . "Oh god Cass, I didn't mean-"
I waved a hand, dismissing it. "It's totally fine. Really."
"I tried to call you," she offered. "And email. Mom and I wanted you to come up and get away from it all for a week or two."
I felt the sob rise in my throat, remembering her emails and texts. Hers were the only ones I responded to and even then, it was no more than a one word response. But seeing her now, knowing she was worried about me, then and now, I couldn’t fight the tears that welled in my eyes. I wanted to say something, tell her that e very note from her was like a life vest whenever I began to drown, but I knew it would ensure I had a break down.
She brought me in for another hug, squeezing tight. "I'm so sorry about your dad , Cassandra ."
I stood there awkwardly, taking it for a moment before I extricated myself with a laugh that sounded like someone stabbed me in the gut. “Oh it’s fine. I’m fine.”
Her eyes narrowed, seeing right through me . It probably didn’t help that I’d just used ‘fine’ three times in the last five minutes . “It’s okay if you’re not fine, you know.”
“I know.” I clutched the straps of my backpack so tight that my nails dug into the palm of my hand. “Well, I’ll see you later!” I pushed through the door to the stairwell, feeling her gaze f ollow me as I took two steps at a time.
I wanted to pretend I’d done a good job and came off normal- ish , but that would be another lie. I’d barely made it through a conversation with Alicia, and now I had to sit through a class fu l l of English majors I ’d known for the past four years--and the one professor I couldn’t duck away from.
Dr. Madison sent two arrangements after the accident and when I didn’t answer her emails, came to my apartment for an awkward cup of coffee. She was my faculty advisor and I’d been looking forward to her British Lit c lass since I was a freshman, but now I hovered i n the corner a few feet from 214 , afraid to walk through the door.
I inhaled deep and moved forward , peering into the classroom window as I reached for the doorknob. I shrank back when I saw a man perched on the edge of the desk at the front of the room . I could count all the male professors in the English department on one hand and none of them were below the age of 50. The guy who was staring out at the class couldn’t be more than 30.
I could only make o ut his side profile, but it was more than enough to make me b lush in approval. Chestnut colored hair hung in shaggy waves around his angular jaw . Tanned skin was accentuated by a black button down shirt that he had rolled up to the elbow, paired with midnight colored jeans. There was something familiar about the way he carried himself. He exuded confidence and sex appeal, t urning something as effortless as leaning into someth ing that made me wish I’d taken a little longer getting ready this morning . When I saw the dark flash of a tattoo peek f rom beneath his arm cuff , a gasp shot from my lips like a bullet.
It couldn’t be.
Hi s hair should have been longer and unruly. The guy I knew wouldn’t have a tan because he spent his days indoors with his nose stuck in a book. He was twenty-seven and a doctoral candidate when we met at Royal Bean, bonding over bone dry cappuccinos with a sprinkl e of raw sugar on top. We gushed over Tolstoy and
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