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“Hey. Come on.” He wasn’t sure what made her feel stupid; she was anything but, as evidenced by her easy entry to UGA. “You’re smart. I don’t like you talking bad about yourself.”
“I’m sorry. There’s a lot been going on lately that makes me feel like I’ve made a lot of stupid choices.”
“If it helps, think of it this way… To get into a state university and have a head level enough to realize what you want out of life instead of going with the flow and sticking with a program you hate takes more than many people our age can manage.”
She lifted one shoulder. “I guess.”
“No. Seriously. Say it with me. ‘I’m smart.’”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re stalling.”
“I’m smart,” she muttered.
“What’s that?”
She tucked her chin and smiled. “I’m smart.”
“That’s better.”
Seeing her smile after the way she looked when they started the video call lifted a tremendous weight from his chest.
“I think I’m finally sleepy,” she said, rubbing her eyes.
He hoped talking to him would help ease her stress. He wouldn’t fool himself into thinking he relaxed her enough to rest, but he could provide a distraction from the day-to-day monotony.
“Sleep. I should probably try again myself.”
She rubbed her shoulder, and a look of concern crossed her face. “You can call my cell if you have another dream.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Charlotte.”
“Night, Aiden.”
The video call disconnected, and he slumped in his chair.
Someone had her frightened. That much he knew for sure. She hadn’t admitted to being afraid, but her mannerisms screamed the truth for her.
It was time to pay Athens a visit.
9
ROGUE MOVEMENT
The cacophony of voices in the cafeteria did little to help the pressure behind Aiden’s eyes as he moved into the crowded space. It wouldn’t be long before the headache passed, but it still didn’t mean the wait wasn’t uncomfortable.
Another night of little sleep. Another night where fragments of an event he couldn’t quite remember haunted him. At least Charlotte eased some of the discomfort, even if her revelation made him itch to drive up there.
Needing to avoid the noise or suffer a never-ending loop of a reoccurring headache, he fired off a text to his friend Lukas, who sat in the back corner at their usual table with their other friends. He couldn’t stay.
Shoving his phone into his pocket, he turned and moved toward the canteen on the other side of the hall. He didn’t feel like anything too filling, so he opted to grab a bottle of electrolytes and a protein bar for later. Anything more than the drink right now might make him throw up.
Why couldn’t he shake the headache? It never lasted this long before. Something felt off.
Taking the stairs at the back of the building at a fast clip, he made it to the bottom floor in no time. The sunlight on the ground floor filtered through the stained glass in shades of red and black on the high-standing walls, painting the marble floor in shades of crimson. He welcomed the darker lighting from the color of the windows; the pressure on his eyes eased with each passing minute.
The cafeteria on the top floor of Blackthorn Academy didn’t follow the old-style Renaissance and Gothic architecture that the bottom floors of the main building, the library, and the interior of the staff and administration buildings displayed. The academy restored the exterior of the centuries-old buildings on campus but kept as close to the refined architecture the region was known for, leaving the stained glass and stonework intact. The aesthetic had become a calling card in the public eye representing Blackthorn Academy with not only the university branch bearing the appearance, but also the branch locations for elementary through high-school-aged students in neighboring towns.
