Winter (Four Seasons #1)
Page 46
******
As predicted, I’m gawked at from the moment I enter the lecture theatre to moment I leave. The posters around Columbia have been taken down as requested by Amanda St. French, who always gets what she wants, but my mother can’t make people stop staring. I am kind of used to it, but not on this scale. Columbia University is a hell of a lot bigger than Breakwater High, with a hell of a lot more people. Unfortunately they all know who I am now.
The time I’ve spent living as someone else here has been wonderful, but I passed every second worrying about what was going to happen when everyone finally discovered the truth. Now that I don’t have to hide anything anymore, it’s almost a relief. A sick and twisted kind of relief, but there all the same.
Class flies by without disturbance and I almost manage to block out the gesturing and whispered conversations. What I can’t block out is Noah’s intense gaze, fixed directly on me. Every time I look over he’s watching me with a torn look on his face. It’s as though he wants to run across the lecture theatre and grab me so we can both flee the building. I know if I don’t get it out of the way he’ll be staring at me through the whole class, and I don’t want to deal with that. I shoot him my, you-don’t-get-to-threaten-and-lie-to-me-and-expect-to-still-look-at-me-like-that! glare. He tenses immediately, like he knows all of his secrets aren’t so secret anymore, and that I’m aware of the woman and kid out there somewhere waiting for him to go back to them.
Ten minutes before class ends my phone buzzes. I slip it from my jeans pocket, glad I’m seated so far back, and find a text from Luke.
Luke: I don’t remember calling you but Brandon and my call history inform me that I did. Please forgive me? I really think we should talk.
I hit reply and type,
It’s okay, you’re right. We do need to talk. I’ll see you when you get back.
Luke: Thanks. And I mean it. I’m sorry.
Me: No worries. But isn’t it more my style to get rip-roaring drunk in order to handle my problems? I thought you dealt with stuff better than that.
His response makes my heart contract.
Luke: Maybe some things. But not this. Not you.