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Chapter Nineteen
Charlotte
I can’t believe it’s Monday and I’m driving to campus. I didn’t miss the parking pass that Rebel slipped onto the dash at some point. He really does think of everything.
I’ve just dropped Phoenix off at the childminder’s house and it was so lovely to be able to let her sleep in longer, and to be able to give her a nutritious breakfast before she went. I don’t feel comfortable in the house knowing what it costs, knowing that I’m accepting charity, but Phoenix’s joy is definitely rubbing off on me.
I sigh, because I’m partly content, and partly nervous; waiting for the other shoe to drop. I don’t want Rebel to leave. Or the others. It hurts that I’ve not seen Jax since he found out about Phoenix. Or was it Baxter that triggered his hasty exit?
Who am I kidding; I know that they can’t stay here and hang around me forever. They must all have lives, jobs, girlfriends - hell, maybe even wives - to go home to. But it still stings that he didn’t say goodbye.
I’ve arrived on campus without even realising, pulling into a parking space easily. I’m still too early for my classes, overestimating how long it would take to drive across town to drop Phoenix off and then get to school. I guess tomorrow we could have a lie-in. That would be a novelty; to spend longer in bed rather than getting up early. It will be nice.
As it’s so early, I jump out of the car and make my way over to the campus coffee shop. Just this once I’ll allow myself the luxury of a shop-bought hot chocolate. I soon regret it though, when it still doesn’t taste as good as Thorn’s. I sigh, and vow to speak to him soon about last night.
He left me baffled...not to mention my heart being a little bruised by the rejection. Of all the guys, he’s definitely changed the most. Despite still looking so young, his easy boyish charm is gone. There’s something heavier and darker in its place. I think of the scar on his hand and shudder, eyes welling with guilty tears. I don’t know how to make things better between us. But I do know that if I could take his scar and his pain away, I would do it in a heartbeat.
It’s later and the coffee shop has filled while I’ve been wrapped up in my thoughts. I notice a strange buzz, a weird atmosphere, and start to pay more attention. It feels like a thousand whispers humming away at once, and I swear I’m being paranoid, but I think I hear my name a few times. I pack up and leave, determined to get to class in plenty of time.
As I walk across campus, I feel eyes on me, tracking my every move. The buzzing continues, only out in the open people are less subtle. There are groups of students whispering behind their hands, and some even go as far as to point outright at me. I imagine I hear insults thrown my way.
What the hell is going on?
I can only wonder if this is because I’ve somehow been seen out and about with Rebel. Or maybe moving into the new house? I’ve always kept a low profile on campus, but maybe moving into one of the country’s most expensive houses has got tongues wagging. It’s definitely an odd - and unwelcome - feeling, being the centre of attention once again. I much prefer blending into the background.
I stick my head down, quicken my pace, and seek refuge in the front row of my favourite class. I have about ten minutes of peace before the rows start to fill. The chatter continues but this time it feels more normal, though I still feel eyes on me and the odd whisper of my name.
Five minutes past lesson start time, the professor hasn’t arrived. He’s never late. Whispers start. Ten minutes later and a substitute walks through the door. The noise is tumultuous. I don’t think Professor Cox has ever missed a class.
“Quiet down!” the sub yells over the din of the room, but students still fire questions at her. “If you shut up for a moment, I’ll be able to answer your questions!”
Surprisingly, the room listens, though one lone voice still calls out “Where’s The Prof?” The substitute doesn’t even crack a smile.
“He has been called into an urgent meeting but-”
That’s as much as she can get out before the room erupts again, loud angry chatter drowning out her feeble attempts to regain order.
“This is all her fault,” an angry voice close to me spits, and I turn in time to see the speaker throwing me an evil glare. What?
“Yeah, she’s ruined it for the rest of us.”
“Dirty skank.”
“Slut!”
The catcalls follow me as I grab my bag and make a hasty exit out of the room. The blood is pounding in my ears but I can still hear their jeers long after the door is shut.
I’m contemplating what to do, when my phone buzzes in my bag. I pull it out and discover an email from the dean marked as urgent. Shit. They want me in a meeting right away!
I hastily toss the phone back in the bag, and then race across campus to the administration building. Breathless, I pant at the disapproving secretary that I have a meeting with the dean.
“You’re late!” he snaps when I enter his office a moment later, still slightly winded from my sprint. I catch my breath, force out a hasty “sorry”,
and then notice my professor sitting in one of the chairs. “Take a seat Ms. McLintock.”
Confused, I fall into the other chair and wait for the dean to take his seat behind the desk. When he does, he looks expectantly between the two of us and then asks if I know why I’ve been called in.
“No sir,” I instantly reply. I have no idea what’s going on here. I glance at Charles Snr, but he won’t meet my gaze.
