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At that moment, Olivia walks into the classroom, and her gaze stays fixed on the ground as she finds a seat. She walks immediately to the back of the class and sits down at a table, alone. I feel myself staring, so I face forward. We have to move on, but this is going to be difficult.
“She’d make a good model.” Hugh watches Olivia as she pulls off her coat. “But she seems stuck-up. She barely talks to anyone, except you, occasionally.”
“She’s okay,” I deflect, concealing my jealousy that he’s noticed her. “She’s going through some stuff.”
“I get that.” He smiles. “I’m praying I’ll pass my midterms. But it might help if I study.”
I want to defend Olivia more, but if I do, Hugh might talk to her. I don’t want to watch it happen, even though I’ve made a choice to let her go. Wakehurst is her school, and then I showed up to flip her world upside down. I’m starting to realize how selfish I’ve been. Did I ever love her, or was it only revenge?
Olivia walks to the front to hang her photo of Winston on the whiteboard. It’s a breathtaking shot, and the room is silent for a moment as people admire her best effort. Only I know the pain associated with the effort, and in some ways, the situation reminds me of the photo of her I have hidden under my bed. I was angry when Olivia found it but not because she had gone through my stuff. I was upset because I knew, once she saw it, Olivia would understand why I had hated her and why I had a right to do so.
Harris immediately gravitates to Winston’s portrait and stands silently in front of it, assessing the composition and the subject. Then, she turns to look for Olivia and motions for her to come to the front. It’s a private conversation, but I listen to their every word.
“This is the best work you’ve done in class,” Harris says to her. “Are you entering it into the competition?”
“I want to,” replies Olivia.
Harris nods thoughtfully, looking at the image. “You really should. This will definitely be noticed.”
Olivia bites her lip. “There’s a tragic story behind it. I don’t want to talk about it in class.”
“I have office hours,” Harris replies warmly. “Come see me then. I really want you to enter it.”
Class starts soon after, and Harris comments on Olivia’s photo. I tense, waiting for Harris to draw Olivia into the conversation. I would’ve said something to take the focus off Olivia, but she respects Olivia’s wishes. The unfortunate death isn’t discussed, other than that the subject is a homeless man.
I realize that history, in an odd way, is repeating itself. How our lives are linked by intimate images on paper.
During the class break, I debate on speaking to Olivia, but I don’t want to stab at a wound that will be slow to heal for both of us. I look at Winston’s portrait, and it reminds me so much of her, the light she brings to everything and how it’s followed by despair. It’s tempting to know she’s sitting behind me. How can I not look? I turn to catch a glimpse. At least, I can allow myself that.
Olivia stares back at me, and we hold each other’s gaze. Her lips part as if she wants to speak. I want to sit beside her, just talk and forgive her for everything that happened. After all, we were kids. Her big brown eyes stare steadfastly into mine, and I know I’ll never be able to cut her out of my life. I start to stand when there’s a commotion at the door.
Olivia?” That guy Lucas marches into the room, and his eyes search every face in the class. He spots Olivia and rushes toward her as if he’s ready to attack. What the fuck is wrong with him? Quickly, I get up from my seat and approach.
“Olivia, let’s go,” Lucas bellows as he reaches for her arm.
Olivia shakes her head and stares at him as if he’s nuts. “I’m in class. What are you doing here?”
“Your father called me[7].” Lucas doesn’t care that he’s disruptive. “Let’s go.”
Olivia looks at me as if I can explain. Lucas turns around, and disgust darkens his face. “You dirtbag, stay away from her. Olivia, get your stuff.” Lucas steps between us. “I said don’t come near her.”
“Lucas, please calm down.” Olivia tugs at his arm. “We’re in class.”
He ignores her and sticks his finger in my chest, forcing me to step back. “I know what you did. Stay away, or I will fuck you up.”
Olivia leaves her seat to get between us, but Lucas grabs her sleeve and yanks her back. Her face tightens into a scowl as she jerks away from him. My fists clench, watching him touch her, and I don’t like it. I can’t help my hasty reaction as my vision turns red. I knock his hand out of my way so I can reach Olivia.
“I warned you,” he shouts.
I barely have time to block before the first blow hits. He strikes my shoulder, sending me back into a table that skids with a loud screech across the tiled floor. Olivia shouts for him to get a fucking grip. People rush away from the commotion to safety while others debate on calling campus security. Lucas lashes out again, but I dodge his fist. I back up, but the back of my legs are pinned to a table. I have nowhere to move. Ignoring Harris’ shouts for order, Lucas pulls his arm back, but before he can make contact, I strike. My punch plows into his cheek, and a sickening crunch sounds in the room. People shout as we grab each other in a desperate grip and stumble toward them. Noisy chairs smash against the floor as people hurry out of our way. I feel arms on me as the biggest guys grab us, and we’re hauled apart.
Lucas touches his cheek gingerly and then glares at me in a rage he can’t restrain. I tense up, knowing that my life is about to fall apart again, not from pain but because he must know.
“Don’t touch her, you sick rapist.” His words echo around the room, and then everything goes silent.
People are motionless, as if feet have been glued to the ground. There’s not a sound, not even breathing, and then Lucas continues to yell.
“You know what you did.” His face is bright red as he spits out the words. “You touched her when she was only a kid. And you have the spineless nerve to show up in her life again.”
