More tears.
“We’re going to campus and we’re getting you some coffee and those bacon egg bite things you love. Then you’re going to putyour headphones on and watch some violin videos until I’m done with the lecture. Ok?”
My lip quivers.
“I love you.”
His smile hits me right in the heart. Then I’m tasting it as he kisses me slowly at first. When I open my mouth, his tongue sweeps in and any remaining tension dissolves. I’m about to beg him to skip class altogether and take me back to bed when he breaks our kiss, buckles me in, and shuts the door, jogging to the driver's side.
The engine rumbles to life as he speeds in the direction of FMU, one hand resting on the wheel, the other palming my thigh. I sink into the bucket seat, drumming my fingers over his to the beat of the song drifting from the speakers. We do exactly as he promised after parking and head straight for the campus coffee shop. (The same one he came to with Mr. Toothtastic, who thank fuck is nowhere in sight.)
My appetite returns the second Remy hands me a paper bag of egg bites. I stuff one in my mouth, moaning, “So fucking good.”
Remy wrinkles his nose. “I’ll never understand why you like those things.”
I shrug. “Grease.”
He snorts. “That checks.”
Crumbling the empty bag, I chuck it into a waste bin and take Remy’s free hand. Since he missed his first class, we take our time walking to his second one. The comfortable normalcy of sipping overpriced coffee and strolling through campus smothers the incessant radio static of anxiety blaring through my brain. It’s never fully gone, but I happily embrace the quiet.
It lasts until we approach the lecture hall.
“It’s only an hour,” Remy promises.
An hour.
Suddenly, I notice how exposed I am. White noise cranks the volume to full blast. My skin is too tight and my clothes itch.You’re overreacting.A tug and I stumble into his chest. Strong arms surround me. The effect is immediate. Peace washes over me, warm and thick like honey.
Lips press to my temple. “You gonna be alright?”
Closing my eyes, I memorize and examine this feeling. A complex web of sensations and emotions that amount to something so simple. So vital to my survival.
“I think so.”
A squeeze.
A kiss.
A whisper. “Text me.”
Then he’s tapping a keycard and disappearing inside.
I’m thrown into the deep end of a pool, drifting and sinking, screaming without sound. Lost, I glance around. On this side of campus, older trees decorated in swaths of Spanish moss cast shadows on red brick facades— a stark contrast to the majority of newly renovated buildings and bleached concrete walkways. After a few minutes of awkwardly standing in the center of the courtyard, I spot a bench with a direct line of sight to the door Remy entered. Settling on the slatted, weather-worn wood, I pop in my headphones and tap on the playlist Remy created. (We’re continuously adding songs that remind us of each other now.) As I doom scroll through social media, my eyes flick to the door every five seconds.
Forty minutes drag on for an eternity. A few scattered raindrops smack my head. My arm. My back. Groaning, I stand and stretch. I need to find an awning or something to hide under before it starts pouring.
Thunder booms.
The hairs on the back of my neck raise.
The trance-like state I’ve slipped into while waiting instantly vanishes. Every sense switches to survival mode. Careful not to alert whoever might be watching me, I remove my headphones and tuck them into my pocket while opening my text thread with Remy.
“You’re a hard guy to get alone.”
My pulse pounds. Stomach acid rockets up my throat as I slowly turn, coming face-to-face with Jessica’s cold, dead eyes.
“No need to call your guard dog. I just want to talk.”
