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“Because you and the dean have such a chummy relationship.” Kenna’s nose twitched, as it often did when she made a smart remark.
She was a spitfire, emotions shifting with the unexpectancy of light rainfall transforming into a torrential downpour. Without warning.
“Listen to me, you red-headed bitch. I’m growing tired of your mouth.” Lies. It aroused Dayton beyond measure, but he ran his tongue along his bottom row of teeth and composed himself. “If you think you’re going to spend the rest of the semester disrespecting me inmyoffice, you’re sorely mistaken. Need I remind you, I decide 90% of your grade.”
“As if I need another reminder. You threaten me with that every day I’m in this godforsaken office.” She sprung from the chair and bolted toward the windows, staring out at the campus. “I have a right mind to take this conversation to the dean. I’m sure he’d love to hear that you called your mentee a ‘red-headed bitch.’ Fortunately for you, I believe in second chances.” She pivoted to face him, slouching to a half-stance like a wilted flower. “So, I’m going to ask you again: What were you doing in the library?”
Her beautiful face, earnest and open, almost tricked him into revealing the truth.
“Don’t ask a question if you can’t handle the answer.”
10
REHEARSED
Kenna didn’t speak to him the rest of the week.
She accepted the errands he’d assign, never uttering a word, and her silence drove Dayton mad. It didn’t help that she seemed to know he was following her around. She was pulling back and time was slipping away.
February would soon be halfway over.
All of this ran through Dayton’s head Saturday morning as he wandered the condiment aisle in Roth’s, shopping basket in hand. He didn’t need anything from that section of the store but Liam Park penetrated the fortress of his mind and he zoned out, gaze boring into the rows of glass and plastic bottles lining the shelves. He’d eliminated potential suitors and boyfriends in the past, and, so far, he had lived on without consequence.
Memories came crawling back to him. Rain. Trees. Sirens. Blue and red lights. Hot blood flowing down his face.
Things couldn’t get out of hand again.
He’d see to it that Liam remained alive.
“Excuse me,” a stocky man interjected.
The man grabbed two bottles of barbeque sauce and went on his way and, though Dayton was alone again, his train of thought had been disturbed and he felt compelled to move to another aisle.
He wandered to the expansive produce area and chucked a variety of vegetables into his basket. He always enjoyed the solace of an early-morning grocery run. The store was mostly empty, quiet. The perfect place to clear his head.
As he reached for a bag of spinach, a familiar shopper inspecting a pile of apples caught his attention and he forgot where he was, what he’d been doing.
There was only her.
Most of the time, Kenna and Alex did their shopping together. Today, she wasn’t so lucky. Alex was attending an on-campus seminar about generative typography, and she had reiterated its importance no less than a thousand times.
And so, Kenna had biked to Roth’s, pledging to get only what would fit inside her backpack.
She arrived not long after the store opened. It was uncommon for her to be out of bed this early on the weekend, but sleep had proved impossible the previous night, prompting the unusual outing.
Dr. Merino had gotten under her skin.
The week of silence between them had permitted her plenty of space to think. She’d convinced herself that most of her evidence against his alleged stalking was purely coincidental. After all, he’d admitted to raiding her file. An admission of wrongdoing didn’t fit the bill of stalker behavior. The fact remained that Dr. Merino was a huge prick. Maybe that’s all there was to the story, and Kenna had let paranoia creep in and get the best of her.
Sifting through a mountain of gala apples, she assessed each one for bruises or other flaws, chucking the ones that passed the examination inside her bag. An apple tumbled from her hand as a man materialized on the other side of the fruit display and panic welled in her throat. Dr. Merino stood before her in a thin athletic jacket and jogger fit sweatpants. It was strange to see him in such casual clothing.
That paranoia came crawling back, begging for validation. She refused to let it control her.
Kenna knelt to retrieve the apple. “You can’t sneak up on people like that.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Dr. Merino cracked an amused half-smile. Perhaps she hadn’t given his range of emotion enough credit. “I guess your stint of silence against me has been lifted. Or was your admission of shock purely accidental?”
She moved down the produce stand, eyeing the lemons and limes, willing to look everywhere but his smug face. He moved along with her on the opposite side.
