Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 135378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
But now that the school day is over, I’m less certain Hugh would take me straight home.
I’m also not sure if I should go back to my dorm so I can get started on my homework or go to Mom’s house. I can do my homework there, and I do need to get my car.
I grab my phone and text her to see if she’ll be home tonight.
Hugh isn’t waiting by the curb, but it doesn’t occur to me until I’ve been standing there waiting for several minutes… Could it be he’s not coming? He never actually said he would pick me up after school.
I’m horrified to realize I just assumed Silvan would send the car for me.
That is an embarrassing realization.
My cheeks flushed from more than the chilly weather, I hoist my bag on my shoulder and start to make my way home, the whole way there trying to understand how I let myself get so wrapped up in Silvan’s peculiar courtship.
Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? It’s the strangest courtship I could ever imagine, but he’s not doing all of this out of the kindness of his heart.
He wants something from me.
His actions the night we met made it extremely unlikely he would ever get it, so he’s taken steps to erase the difficulty from my life and make me… start to rely on him.
And it’s working.
Without even realizing it, he’s made me comfortable enough to get in that car this morning with almost no hesitation when it was just this past weekend that he locked me in an escape room and nearly raped me.
Wow.
It feels crucial that I get a breather from him, so instead of heading straight home, I decide to go somewhere he wouldn’t be able to find me even if he wanted to.
There’s a little coffee shop I’ve been meaning to stop at on my way home, so I stop in and order myself a hot chocolate. I set up at a table in the corner and start on my homework.
My head feels clearer than it has in a while with this little pocket of independence from Silvan. I don’t understand why I had to make an effort to find a Silvan-free corner of my world since I never agreed to be in any kind of dysfunctional relationship with him, but I feel like he has access to me in all the places he has sent Hugh to pick me up.
Not here.
I’m free here in this little coffee shop.
It feels good.
Right.
I feel like my own person here. Like no one knows who I am, so I could be anybody.
A girl without a dodgy past and far too much baggage.
I could start over and be someone new.
“Sophie?”
My heart stalls as I hear a familiar voice behind me.
I turn to look, and my heart melts into a puddle and pours down my legs when I see Professor DeMarco standing there in a brown coat with his briefcase in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
“H-hi,” I stammer awkwardly. “What are you doing here?”
His lips tug up. He glances around the coffee shop, which I didn’t realize had filled up with the post-school crowd. “Just coming in for my usual cup of coffee before I head home, but it seems someone has taken my table.”
My tummy flutters at the teasing censure in his gaze when he looks at me. “Me? Oh, I’m sorry,” I say without thought, turning and grabbing my papers so I can put them away and leave him to his spot.
A firm hand comes down on the papers, and he meets my gaze, leaning close enough that I can smell him. “You don’t have to do that.”
I swallow.
“But,” he continues, his tone light since he can see how nervous he makes me, “maybe I could join you?”
Oh, Silvan wouldn’t like that.
I don’t know where that thought comes from, but it infuriates me and solidifies my decision.
I sit back down, my heart hammering and my skin hot, and nod my consent for him to join me.
My area is a mess of open textbooks and scrambled notes. I clear a side for him, pushing my notebook, pens, and highlighters over to my side so he’s not crowded.
Professor DeMarco’s lips quirk as he watches me. “Not comfortable taking up space in my presence, hmm?” he murmurs.
I feel woefully young around him, like a little girl without a single clue.
Like right now.
My trusty brain absolutely fails me, and I can’t for the life of me figure out the answer he wants.
“I’m an introvert,” I mumble by way of explanation, but like anything I ever say to him, it feels inadequate. “I’m not overly comfortable around anyone.”
He watches me as he takes another sip of his coffee. “Does that make college challenging?” When my gaze flickers to him, he adds, “I mean socially. You’re clearly an intelligent girl, so I’m sure the academic aspects are no trouble for you.”