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)
All I know is I feel a little bit like who I was supposed to be before people started breaking me, and it feels damn good.
Chapter Sixteen
Sophie
I walk to school on Wednesday, and then I walk home.
There’s no sign of Silvan, no sign of Hugh.
If I feel slightly abandoned, I tell myself that’s insane and shove it down.
I’m free.
That’s a good thing.
No more looming presence or feeling of my space not being entirely mine.
It’s as if Silvan has disappeared.
As if he’s a monster I dreamed up, banished by the light of day.
I’m happy about it.
Happy.
Not at all confused or disappointed.
Definitely not.
Thursday is more like my Friday because it’s my last day of classes before the weekend.
Professor DeMarco’s words from yesterday hang in my mind as the end of class approaches. I catch his gaze a couple of times and think it’s on his mind, too.
He has office hours Tuesdays and Thursdays, after all.
I could go to his office.
I’m all jumbled up wondering if he wants me to, if I want to when class ends and students begin to file out. I take my time putting my things away just in case he wants to come over and talk to me like he has been.
I don’t get to find out, though, because Shelby Cunningham approaches his podium and starts asking a million questions.
I can’t stall long enough to wait her out, so once the last pen is tucked away in my pouch, I hoist my bag and make my way out.
I catch the professor’s gaze as I head for the door, and I swear he looks a bit disappointed.
That I’m leaving?
Maybe he really does want me to come to his office.
I can’t decide if I want that, though I did enjoy our brief conversation yesterday.
At least, I think I did.
I don’t know; he makes me feel immensely confused about everything.
My steps are slow as I make my way down the hall. I end up stopping a few classrooms down.
I don’t know what I’m stopping for, exactly. It would be too obvious if I waited for him to leave the class, wouldn’t it?
Before I can decide what to do, Shelby comes out of the classroom. Her pace is brisk, but she slows down when she sees me standing in the hallway.
“Sophie, right?”
My eyes widen in surprise and I nod.
She holds out a folded sheet of white paper. “I was asked to give you this.”
What?
I take the paper, but my confusion must be evident.
She flashes me a smile, then turns and continues down the hall.
I swallow, glancing back at the classroom where I know Professor DeMarco is alone now, but going back feels about as subtle as waiting for him in the hall.
I open the sheet of paper and my heart stalls when I read the message typed inside.
Sophie,
I enjoyed seeing you yesterday after school.
Don’t come to my office hours today.
Come to my house tonight.
I’ll be eagerly awaiting your company.
-Professor DeMarco
My jaw drops open.
“Tonight” is underlined with three bold strikes, and below that, he wrote a time and his address.
It’s all typed, but those three bold strikes… he writes those below his comments at the top of tests.
He wants me to come to his house.
That’s… insane.
I can’t go.
Right?
This bold invitation changes my tune about wanting to see him after class. If I do, I’ll have to give him an answer, so I pick up my bag and hurry down the hall to make sure I’m gone before he gathers his things and leaves the classroom.
All night, I agonize over whether I’m going to go.
On the one hand, he’s my professor. If I don’t go, won’t that be incredibly awkward come Monday morning?
But on the other hand, what does he expect to happen if I do go over there? A brief chat in a coffee shop is leaps and bounds away from going over to his house.
I don’t get the vibe that Professor DeMarco is a creep, so after much anxiety over the decision, I finally decide to go. I tell myself it’s okay because I’m probably overthinking it. It’s college, not high school. Maybe professors and students are allowed to be friends.
Nothing will happen that I don’t want to happen.
He’s not some creep like Dylan; he’s a respected professional.
And it’s not like he’s definitely going to come onto me just because I’m at his house.
And if he does…
I’ll just tell him he needs to pump the brakes a little. No big deal.
Yeah, because you’re always able to keep your head clear around him.
True, he does scare me a little…
But that bit of common sense isn’t helpful, so I toss it out and proceed to tell myself it’s perfectly natural to shower, shave, and pick out a cute outfit different from the one I wore to school today.
I’m so preoccupied with the craziness of this whole thing that it doesn’t occur to me to feel guilty or paranoid until I’m halfway to my car.