Change Of Season

by Dillon, A. C.

  Wait a minute: Ross was wandering around during the fire alarm. Had he seen something Grant didn’t want him to? Suddenly intrigued, Autumn tiptoed down the aisles, straining to hear them while still safely cloaked in shadows.

  "... no business being here!" Grant angrily said, pointing a finger at Ross.

  The Math professor, innately soft-spoken, was far too quiet to hear, but his face was one of indignation as he retorted.

  "I’ve been at this school for... Don’t tell me what to..." Grant’s words faded in and out, the meaning lost.

  Professor Ross spun around to depart, only to be grabbed by the wrist and yanked towards Professor Grant. For a moment her hand hovered near her cell phone, wondering if she should call for help. Would Grant hurt him to silence him? Ross was a little too eager to preach to his classes, but he was a friendly teacher, kind to all students. An innocent man didn’t deserve to get hurt.

  Abruptly he pulled free, shoving Grant forcefully before storming back towards the main foyer. Disgruntled, Grant stood alone, muttering beneath his breath before heading backstage at a brisk pace.

  Okay, time to bail. She packed up her belongings quietly, no longer at ease with her hideaway. If Grant planned to linger, this was the last place she ought to be. Taking the steps gingerly to ground, she was relieved to escape undetected into the night.

  Where to? She couldn’t impose on Veronica’s roommate Dora again, no matter how kind and accommodating she had been the night before. The prospect of another night in her room sickened her, but aside from sleeping in the tunnels, her choices were slim.

  Maybe Veronica could sleep over? Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her phone and began to text her. Company for the night might keep the hallucinations at bay. Hitting send, she jumped as her phone vibrated in her palm. Incoming text message alert.

  Can we talk?

  Andrew... He’d broken the silence. So much for Evan’s theory of weeks. Then again, maybe he wanted to end things permanently. Nervous, she tapped out a reply.

  When?

  She hesitated near Ashbury, glancing towards the Athletics building. It might be worth checking in back for Keenan for an herbal remedy to her anxiety. Without Ativan, she was a jittery mess.

  A voice spoke behind her: "Now?"

  Spinning around, she found Andrew scant feet away, hands thrust deeply into his pockets to guard against the freezing temperature. His face was haggard: the look of insomnia she’d come to know well over the last year.

  "How-"

  "I saw you leaving on my way to the vending machine. I figured one more text couldn’t be too awful, not if you..."

  "If I what?"

  "Cared. About me. I mean, you did, right?"

  He hesitated, eyes averted. She winced at the past tense of it: cared. As if she could ever stop.

  "I care. Why would you ever think I didn’t?"

  He shrugged, unwilling to look at her. "You didn’t answer me for days. What else could I think?"

  Evan got one thing right, she admitted to herself. She’d made a complete mess of things, and her selfishness had eroded Andrew’s belief in the driving force behind her self-imposed exile.

  A group of students approached from the library, their laughter tinny and aggravating. This wasn’t the place for a talk like this. People had enough cannon fodder to strike her down with these days.

  "I can’t do this here," she said abruptly. "Follow me."

  She cut a swath through patches of black ice and clumps of dirty snow, relieved to find the rear alcove of the Athletics building deserted. The shelter provided from the wind was a welcome relief for her stinging cheeks as well. As Andrew leaned against the wall opposing her, she mulled her feelings over, willing them into a gentle delivery as best she could manage.

  "You hurt me last week," she began. "I didn’t want to talk that night."

  "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like it sounded," he insisted.

  "You don’t have to lie to me. I know I’m crazy. Everyone knows it now, after this weekend. It’s awesome being the school pariah."

  "Why can’t you believe me?" Andrew asked angrily. "When have I ever implied you were anything but an intelligent woman in pain? Why do you assume the worst of me?"

  "I don’t-"

  "No, you do! You’re so quick to recoil, and a part of me gets it, you know. I understand that Chris abused you so badly, it’s hard to tell whether down is down or is suddenly up. I’ve done my best to not take it personally. I waited for you. I’ve watched over you. I never question it when you flinch if you feel cornered – I just move. But I’m not going to lie and say it doesn’t hurt me when you’re quick to conclude I’m a monster. It’s his fault. I blame him. But it still hurts!"

  Autumn fought back tears as he continued to vent, bowing her head in shame. It was her fault, no matter what he said. She could choose to push through it, to not react like this, but she never did. She took the easy road, the victim stance. Miraj – her inner self? – had been saying as much for months.

  "I couldn’t understand why you’d hide your idea to go down into the tunnels from me. When Veronica mentioned it, I wanted to believe it was a fucking oversight. You had a lot to think about. But you lied to me and all I could see was you taking risks and not letting me protect you."

  "But that’s what I’ve been trying to do!" Autumn blurted out. "Don’t you see how dangerous it is for you to be near me? I feel like you don’t believe me when I say that Chris will kill you. He almost killed Fiona. I can’t sleep and when I do, I’m dreaming of your body in a casket!"

  Andrew struck the wall in frustration. "That’s a risk I’m willing to take, Autumn. I’ve made that clear."

  "And I’ve made it clear that finding the truth is a risk I need to take if I want to hold onto the sanity I have left, but you tried to forbid me to go down there."

  "And you were followed, again!" Andrew countered. "If you’d let me come with you, let me in, I wouldn’t have liked it, but I would at least have been there for you."

  His fists remained balled at his sides and she instinctively flinched at the sight, cursing herself for it.

  "I’m a terrible person," she said, her head thumping against the brick behind her. "Even now, I see fists and act like you’d hurt me. I know you won’t, but I don’t know and I’m sorry I hurt you, so sorry..."

  "You’re not terrible," he said gently. "It’s reflex. I just... I just wish you understood how much you mean to me. Anything I say or do is because the thought of anything happening to you terrifies me more than any ex-boyfriend with a vendetta. I already lost my parents. I can’t lose you, too."

  "I can’t lose you, either." A single tear broke free, sliding down her cheek. "I just keep hurting you. Why do you bother?"

  His fingers brushed her cheek, hesitant but warm. "You give me happiness, too."

  "You could do so much better," she insisted. "You deserve better than this human wreckage."

  "Damn it, Autumn, why don’t you get it?" His hand tilted her chin up and suddenly, she was acutely aware of his own struggle not to weep. "I love you. I love you so much and I couldn’t stop if I tried."

  Tentatively, he leaned in, his lips barely grazing hers, gauging her response. Her body arched towards him like a plant craving sunlight and she basked in the warmth of his touch and the familiar feel of leather against her fingertips. It was hopeless to believe she could stay away; without him, she was barely alive.

  "You can’t get hurt," she pleaded. "It would break me."

  "I’ll be careful," Andrew murmured in her ear. "Stop pushing me away."

  "I can’t anymore, no matter how selfish it is." Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes and confessed. "I love you, Andrew."

  He kissed her hard and she melted into him, fighting the urge to resist being pinned to the wall. He loves me, he can’t hurt me, she told herself, her hands wandering to his hips, pulling him taut against her. Groaning into her mouth, he pulled back slightly, gasping for air.


  "I’m sorry, you’re pinned-"

  "No, it’s-"

  "Hold on tight."

  With a swift motion he hoisted her into the air, her legs wrapping around his waist obediently as he spun them around. His back to the wall now, he gripped her through the back pockets of her jeans, earning a giggle of surprise.

  "Much better," he said.

  Frantic kissing consumed them, her hands fisting in his hair as she surrendered to the blossoming emotions within. This is what love’s supposed to feel like, she thought suddenly. Wonderful. Joyful. Protected. She had to learn to trust it. Pulling back to catch her breath, she gasped as he trailed feather-light kisses around her neck.

  "I missed you so much," he whispered.

  "I missed you too."

  Drawing a deep breath, he relented, gently setting her down on the ground. "Ten minutes to."

  "Oh crap! I told Veronica to come crash with me." Fumbling for her phone, she found two texts waiting from her friend, who was understandably concerned at her lack of response.

  "Cancel," Andrew said firmly.

  "What?"

  "I have an idea. Indulge me."

  Trust him. With a confused look, she tapped out a quick message to Veronica with a promise to explain in the morning. That taken care of, she returned her attention to Andrew, awaiting an explanation.

  "Cancelled?"

  "Yes. What are you thinking?"

  With a smirk, he took her by the hand and began to walk. "I’m thinking that some rules are worth breaking."

  Apparently, in addition to its tunnel access, Trudeau Hall also had a perpetually propped open stairwell, and it was via this seldom traversed route that Andrew snuck her to the fourth floor, where, with a quick scan of the hall, he ushered her into his dorm room. Locking the door, he gestured widely with his hand.

  "My messy abode," he said quietly.

  "There’s only one bed?" she asked.

  He nodded, unlacing his boots. "Rich aunt. Paid premium for a single. They’re a rarity."

  "I have a single by default," she said. "Parents paid extra, but considering its history, they got ripped off."

  "So Amar the jerk will make his rounds in five minutes," he said. "Just in case, hide in the bathroom until I tell you to come out, alright?"

  Autumn nodded, putting the toilet seat down and sitting. In spite of the adrenaline rush of breaking one of the biggest rules on campus, she was exhausted. If this worked – and she prayed it did – she could sleep, medication-free and without terror. She was giddy at the prospect.

  On cue, she heard footsteps clomp down the hall outside and rolled her eyes. Lorraine seldom bothered with such patrols, and when she did, it was because she knew someone was missing or heard noise overhead. What is his problem? she wondered. Several agonizing minutes passed before Andrew waved her over, grinning. Stifling the urge to laugh at his jubilation, she unlaced her boots and abandoned them in the bathroom, walking gingerly across the floor and settling down beside him.

  "Did you want to borrow pants or a shirt to sleep in?" he whispered.

  "Comfy pants would be nice," she admitted.

  "One sec."

  Andrew crossed the room and dug through a basket of folded clothes, humming triumphantly as he tugged a pair of thick sweatpants free. "Drawstring. Should work."

  He tossed them to her and stripped out of his long-sleeved shirt, tossing it to the floor. By the moonlight trickling in, she could see his scarred arm and – more distracting – the lightly defined abs he’d joked about on several occasions. She averted her eyes quickly as his jeans hit the floor, busying herself with removing her coat and sweater, leaving her in a tank top and bra.

  "I’m decent," he teased, smiling as she looked up. "I usually sleep naked on my own, but that would be incredibly inappropriate, hence pants. I’ll grab a shirt in a sec-"

  "Don’t." She flushed at her demand, shaking her head. "I mean, I’m not bothered by a lack of... shirt."

  Andrew shrugged, running a hand through his hair nervously. "Okay. I mean, I don’t want you to think that-"

  "I don’t. I trust you."

  The way his face lit up sent her heart skipping. That’s all he needs from me: trust. She could manage that much for the man she loved. She rose slowly, unbuttoning her jeans and repeating it as her mantra: I can trust Andrew.

  "Oh shit, I’ll turn around!" he whispered nervously. "Let me know when."

  "You don’t have to," she replied. "I trust you." It was worth repeating.

  Holding her breath, she unzipped her fly, pushing the worn denim to the carpet. She couldn’t look at him – she was far too shy for that – but she felt surprisingly relaxed as she pulled each foot free. If they were at her home, or somewhere more private, she might sleep like this, clad in her black panties and top, but the stakes were far too high.

  "It’s such a line, but you’re beautiful," he murmured beside her.

  Startled by his proximity, she squeaked. "I’m plain."

  "Not at all. But what happened there?"

  She grimaced, acutely aware of what had caught his eye. "Fence. I was wearing a skirt and he... yeah"

  "I fucking hate that bastard," Andrew muttered.

  Reaching quickly for her borrowed pants, she began hoisting them on, relieved that they were only a little big on her. "It’s nothing-"

  "Shh. Don’t minimize this. He hurt you." Kneeling beside her, Andrew traced the raised line that crossed mid-thigh with his thumb. "I can’t undo this. I wish I could. But I can make the future better."

  As he gently kissed the angry scar, Autumn sighed happily. "You will," she affirmed. "I know that."

  Tying up her pants she slid into bed beside him, her head coming to rest near his heart. His arm wrapped around her as he hummed happily.

  "I’ve dreamed of this since we got back," he said. "Not being able to check on you has been difficult."

  "I feel safer already," she mumbled sleepily. "But the morning-"

  "I’ll worry about that. Just rest, Autumn."

  Rest... It was so much easier here, lulled by the steady beat of his heart beneath her head. Breathing came in waves, the ebb and flow of a tide as her eyes closed in relief. Home at last. For all of the uncertainty and fear in her world, this bond – this refuge – was a constant she could rely on.

  "Andrew?"

  "Hmm?"

  Coherency was fading fast, tumbling into the greedy hands of exhaustion, but she pushed through it. "I wouldn’t undo it."

  "I don’t understand."

  With a yawn, she struggled to explain her fleeting thought. "Running from him... gave me you..."

  He kissed her head in answer as she drifted unconscious, a rare smile upon her lips. Love is real, her mind whispered. This is real.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Oakville; January 11th, 2012

  Another day running on three hours’ sleep had only just begun and already, Autumn was debating ditching classes for the afternoon. The dull headache lingering into the late morning wasn’t helping her irritable mood, nor was the ongoing discussion of their current Prime Minister in Politics. If only she felt healthy and rested, she could take apart the classmate lying through her teeth about the man not having a war on women on his party’s agenda! Instead, she rested her head on her crossed arms, listening only when Andrew spoke.

  Andrew Daniels: a candidate for Boyfriend of the Century, as far as she was concerned. Rousing her thirty minutes before wake-up call, he’d smuggled her out of Trudeau Hall without capture – but only just. Amar had noticed her lingering in front of Ashbury and questioned her, but her complaint of being unable to sleep passed muster with Lorraine, ending his tantrum. They didn’t dare risk a repeat performance, but she was grateful for a night of true sleep. Veronica’s company wasn’t enough to assuage her panic anymore, judging from last night’s sleeplessness.

  Class was apparently over: students were walking out, laughing and jostling each other. Rubbing her temples, she groaned
and packed away her unused books in her bag. Never should have bothered to unpack them. Like anyone was buying her pseudo-attempts at learning, anyway.

  "We have a paper due next week," Andrew informed her. "Opinion piece."

  "Oh, lovely. I’ll add that to the pile of things I haven’t bothered to do thus far this term."

  She was being unnecessarily sour, but the lack of sleep was taking its toll. Besides, hadn’t he insisted he could handle her as she was? Today was a bad day, and he was welcome to steer clear, but she wouldn’t sugarcoat herself. She didn’t have the willpower to do so.

  "There has to be a way to get a room change," he mused aloud as they crossed the quad. "Even moving into the junior dorm."

  "Oh, that’ll help my reputation as the campus crazy!"

  "Autumn, at least you’d sleep. If bunking with me was an option, I’d happily suggest it." His arm wrapped around her shoulder, steering her through the crowds lingering outside the dining hall. "Maybe we could ask?"

  Autumn rolled her eyes. "Logan would never do me any favours. Face it, Andrew: I’m trapped until June."

  If I live that long, she added silently.

  He paused briefly, kissing her cheek. "I just hate not being able to fix this for you."

  "I know, but we’re screwed. All I can do now is find a way to manage."

  The thought of food was off-putting for some reason. Nothing smelled as it should nor appealed to her shrunken stomach, save coffee. With a grimace, she excused herself to the bathroom, asking Andrew to grab her something light and bland. Relieving herself, she splashed water on her face, wincing at the bass drum holding court inside her skull. Advil was powerless in its wake, the nerves sniggering at its pitiful efforts to rule them.

  The rings around her eyes were worse than the day of her arrival at Casteel. Her parents were going to lose it if she didn’t get things under control. Her father might even withdraw her from Casteel Prep altogether, no matter how hard she protested.