5

Cathy

I dash across Lake Shore Drive, the main road that snakes through the campus, my gaze flicking side to side without really seeing. A car honks as I charge blindly across. I keep my head down and jump over the curb on the other side. I don’t look up when the driver shouts something after me. In the distance, I can see the library and my chest eases a touch. I can lose myself inside the library.

I slide through the revolving door and inhale the dry smell of print on paper. The place is packed. Students sit at computer chairs behind desks, squeeze onto long benches, or lean against the ergonomically approved bright orange stools the college insists are posture perfect.

I ignore the help-yourself free candy the college entices students with and walk between the shelf stacks, wishing I could lose myself in here and never be found. I recognize groups of students from my class, probably working on Professor Black’s assignment. They talk and laugh and are totally engaged while they work or share notes on study sessions.

Sometimes I wish I could experience that camaraderie. Simple friendships and chatting with carefree people.

But it never stays that way.

I slide into a cubicle at the very end of the library stacks and hunker down. It takes long moments to realize I’ve been staring unseeing at the partitioning. I reach into my pack and withdraw my computer, plugging the cord into the socket. I plan to be here longer than the battery will last.

I’m a coward. A coward whose lips still tingle with a kiss. A kiss I’ll remember for the rest of my life. My breath shakes when I touch my fingertips to my lips. I still taste him. Then the full weight of what I’ve done falls on my shoulders and threatens to bury me alive.

I’m so stupid. So utterly, carelessly, devastatingly stupid.

I don’t want to know what he was about to say, but it would be nothing good, I’m sure. I recognized that questioning look. That interest. I’ll never find out. Going back there would ruin both of us.

As soon as Student Services opens in the morning, I’ll request a change of class. The university is busy with thousands of students. I’ll lose myself in the crowd. He’ll never see me, or my stupidity, again. I open my computer and bring up the Business Analytics group assignment I’ll do on my own. It will take me four times as long to complete as it should, but I have nowhere else to go. Nothing else to do.

Eventually the library quiets as students filter out one by one. A glance outside tells me night has arrived. Lights blink at the closest sorority house and a bass sound thumps through the library windows from a party I wasn’t invited to.

I turn my attention to my studies and lose myself for a few hours until a headache threatens and my eyes are dry. I take a short break and walk to the coffee vending machine. I select black coffee and a bottle of water and take it back to the cubicle.

The library is silent.

I continue to work.

My head pounds by the time the library has fully emptied. I check the time and calculate it’s early evening in New York. I dig out my cell and bring up my message stream with Adeline.

I miss her more than I want to miss her. That still surprises me. She wasn’t my friend until three months ago, when Dad met her at work, but I’m grateful for her friendship however recent it is. I’m also grateful she met Dad. She’s so clearly unaffected by his money. In fact, it was his money that almost drove her away.

I love what they have together. I’d love that for myself. A voice whispers in the back of my mind that Jonathan might not be affected by money either. He kissed me thinking I was a poor student. He kissed me at the risk of his job.

But then my stomach rolls because that is exactly what he does risk. I can go back to New York, to my home. To a job at Blue Sky should I want it. Jonathan doesn’t have that back-up contingency and I will not contribute to him losing his job, career and reputation. I turn my attention back to the message stream with Adeline.

Me: How go the wedding plans bride-to-be?

I watch three dots fill and refill. I can imagine Dad sitting next to her on the couch as she types.

Adeline: AGGHHH! So exciting. It’s amazing. I’ve booked the most beautiful venue. It’s a long wait for the space, but worth it. I can’t wait for you to see it.

Me: I’m really happy for you.

That’s not a lie. I’m super happy for both Dad and Adeline. If anyone deserves to be loved, it’s those two. I tap out a message before my angst pulls me under. The screen fills with everything about her plans for the wedding. The type of flowers. The matching colors. Adeline’s excitement is catching. A smile lifts my lips.

Adeline: How are you? What’s new? How’s campus life. I’m sure everyone is impressed with your big brain.

Me: Everything is fine. Well, as fine as it always is. Just lots of study. Nothing to report. I know you have a million things to do for the wedding. Don’t worry about me. We’ll catch up after minefields are cleared.

I look at the messages, delete the last one and write another message.

Me: Not much to report here. It’s actually quite boring. Let me know if you want me to do anything to help with the wedding plans. I’m bursting to help with something, and I can’t just sit here and study, study, study. If there’s something I can do then tell me.

It’s a flat out lie, but she doesn’t need to be burdened with my troubles. She has enough happiness to last into old age. I press send and wait. Any minute she’ll be too busy to reply, and I’ll have peace of mind that she’s not worried about me. If only I can relegate this suffocating nothingness that sticks to my skin that easily.

Adeline: I’d love you to shop wedding dresses with me. You know I’m not used to going into anything more exclusive than an op shop, but…is everything OK there, Cathy?

Adeline is perceptive. I can’t let her know how desolate I am. How wholly alone. She’ll see right through me. I can’t have her ask me if I’m okay, because my chest aches so bad I can hardly breathe.

I wait for a beat and then type out another message.

Me: A friend has just come in my dorm (again – sigh!). Looks like it’s party time! Just keep sending those pictures through in the meantime. Have to go. Can’t wait to see you soon, Cathy. Say hi to Dad for me. XoXo

I put my cell face down on the top of the desk and I’m doused in darkness, apart from the glare of my computer screen. I should leave and go back to my dorm, but the effort of getting up is too much. Besides, I have the work of four people to do. As depressing as that sounds, I can still feel the aura of students here to keep me company.

I sigh. Open the next question. And work.

A whisper and a stifled chuckle wake me. “Did she sleep here last night?”

“Pretty desperate if she did,” a male answers, his voice not so low.

“Poor thing must really be behind,” the girl says.

I straighten in my chair and swivel around. A young woman and man stare at me as they walk past. The guy doesn’t bother to hide his smirk and I snap my gaze from the woman who has pity stamped across her face. I don’t need anyone’s pity.

I stuff my computer into my bag and push my way out of the chair. My muscles creak when I stand. I rub the kink from my neck, looking for any drool on the desktop. I sling my bag over my shoulder and look at the time on my cell. Student Services should be open. Time to change Business Analytics from Jonathan Black to anyone who can fit me in. It doesn’t matter who, or even if times overlap.

I flip my hair over my face, clutch my laptop to my chest and walk between the desks. No one sees me coming. No one sees me leave. A ghost who walks between thousands.

The morning air is brisk after the stale air in the library. My next stop after Student Services will be the coffee shop, followed by my dorm. I look down at my crumpled jeans and sweatshirt and make a mental note to shower before breakfast. My stomach rumbles, protesting my missed dinner last night but nothing would have made me leave the sanctuary of the library.

I pass students ambling to their morning classes, keeping an eye out for the familiar figure of Professor Black jogging, which he does regularly down this particular path. I juggle the risk of him seeing me rather than me taking the longer way around the quadrant, but getting to Student Services the fastest wins.

I duck my head and power along.

I push through the door, keeping my eyes on my feet and floor and walk straight into the edge of the desk. My hip juts against the corner and I miss my step, tripping over the riser as my legs fold under me. My bag flies off my shoulder and I sprawl across the floor.

I scramble to my knees and gather my things. An arm lands on the table beside me and I glance up at the hand knotted with veins, then follow the muscular forearm to a tan jacket. My gaze travels up and up his chiseled body to his neck and square jaw and wavy blond hair.

An invisible sword stabs my chest.

Chris.

It can’t be! I was meant to be safe here. There’s no way he could be on campus. Not this campus. My safe place, but I can’t drag my eyes off him.

It…can’t be him. I blink, waiting for the picture to change but it remains stubbornly real. I stare at the hand he holds out to me. His scent triggers a rush of memory. The one I’ve tried to lock away.

My stomach roils. That beer and whiskey and lemon scent I’d know anywhere. The scent I thought I’d never smell again outside of my nightmares. The hole in my chest crumbles and the sharp little pebbles dig into my heart as I rap my feet against the floor and use the chair as leverage to stand without having to touch him. I gather the rest of my items—slipping my cell into my back pocket—and shove my books into my bag, still ignoring the hand he continues to hold out.

“What are you doing with library books? You can afford new books from the college book store, Cathy,” he says. That voice. So smooth. Sincere, with a hint of cruelty.

My heart plummets lower in my chest while the hole widens. I curl my free hand over my middle; it’s the only thing that holds the shards of my brittle heart in place. I glance at Chris’s smug smile and lift my chin. “What are you doing here?”

My head stutters with flashes of the photos he took of me while I’d been sleeping. At my most vulnerable. Photos he’d told me he’d show my father and leak to the public if I didn’t do what he wanted. I could imagine them splashed across the biggest gossip magazine, printed in glossy, gory detail.

“What does anyone do at university? I’m taking some classes. Luckily your dad agreed with me. I need to learn some key business theories for my next promotion. He thought it would be a great idea to surprise you with my enrolment. He knows how I hold a special place in your heart.” Chris smirks and the hammer that pounds against my skull moves down my spine into the small of my back. I fold my other arm across my stomach and curl my hand into my ribs. Dots rush through my vision and I swallow the bile that scalds the back of my throat.

The beautiful, precious, trusting phrase, “I love you,” had been the last words he’d said before he took my innocence. I wish those memories didn’t have the power to resurface so easily.

I don’t have a heart any more. It’s nothing but a lump of meat that leaks blood with every beat.

“Miss Evans? Back to take more classes?” the woman behind the desk says. She’s familiar, and has helped me choose extra classes in the past. She smiles, not realizing what she’s just revealed.

Chris’s smirk broadens and a spark flickers to life in his sky blue eyes. “Miss Evans, hey? Nice way to keep a low profile. How many people here know who you truly are. Catherine Chan...”

My throat threatens to close over. I grab his wrist, dropping it nearly as soon as I touch him. “You wouldn’t.”

The smug asshole lets me stew in my horror for a few beats before he whispers words I don’t want to hear.

“I find college life very expensive. Five thousand. In my bank by tonight. No cancelled deposit or the word goes around.”

My family might be rich, but there’s no way to access my money without notification reaching Dad. I know he wouldn’t hesitate to give me whatever I ask for, but then I’d have to explain why I need the funds. “You know I can’t…”

“Sweetie, you and I both know how smart you are.” He taps my cheek as ice seeps through my veins. “You’ll find a way. You always do.”