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Students walk through the halls, and I try my best to fall into step with them, desperate to camouflage myself in their stream. Desperate to pretend Abraham Pugliesi doesn’t have the power over me that I know he has.
* * *
“I missed you so much,”Miley exclaims, hugging me for the third time today. I’ve just come back from a weekend in Boston and the time spent with my family felt like a recalibration of sorts.
A reminder of why I’m even at this fucking school.
“I’m moving out in two weeks,” I remind her, accepting her hug as we walk toward our classes.
“My life will be over without you,” she whines, and I roll my eyes.
“Bitch, find someone else who’ll cook for you,” I say with a laugh, sighing at the end. Because, fuck, I’m gonna miss her too. I’m gonna miss having someone around who is down for anything.
I could wake Miley up at two in the morning for an ice cream and she’d probably complain a little, but she’d get her ass up and go.
She’s been the best friend I could ask for.
“Weird,” she says, and I’m about to ask her what she means when I look in the direction she’s staring. “I thought he stopped teaching last week. What’s he doing here?”
I can’t answer. My heart is in a puddle at the sight of him. He doesn’t look like Professor Pugliesi. He looks like the man who took me on a date.
And he isn’t alone.
“Isn’t that his ex-wife?”
I want to ask Miley how she knows. But how does Miley know anything? She’s constantly tapped into some version of the truth. And when I see the brunette who clings to him, looking expensive like the wife of a famous director would, I’m stuck.
“Sabrina?” she asks, standing in front of me. But when she says my name, he looks up as if he’s heard it too.
We lock eyes for a moment. Just a moment.
And then I pull my best friend away, making an excuse about forgetting something at home.
As we walk away, I swear I can feel his dark gaze burning into my back.
And I definitely don’t look back.
