The Intern Vol. 2(8)

We stand there until we finally hear the door slam shut. He releases me,  slowly dropping my legs to the floor. He rolls the condom off and  adjusts himself back in his pants before walking back to his desk.

I follow behind, feeling sore and exposed. Bentley and I haven't exactly  talked about our ‘situation' but I'm not so sure I should question it  either. Before he found me in his office, I could've swore he wanted  more from me, but now I'm not so sure he does anymore.         

     



 

I watch as he disposes the condom in the trash and I go in search of my clothes that are sprinkled across the floor.

"Oh, my god!" I squeal. Bentley turns toward me immediately as I take in my clothes-perfectly folded on top of his desk.





Chapter Six


Cecilia



AS SOON AS Bentley told me to search for a certain transcript for him  earlier, I knew it was my opportunity to search for Samuel Anderson. I  hadn't known what to look for the last time I was in there, but this  time I knew.

However, I still came up empty handed. No record of a Samuel Anderson and nothing linking him to any cases.

Shit.

This isn't getting me anywhere.

Once he confronts me about Professor Hennings, I know I have to come up  with something quick. That'll be two strikes against me, and soon he'll  be putting the pieces together. I have no choice but to lie, again.

Relief washes over me when he says he won't tell the committee, but part  of me knows it's not over. The intense heat between us hasn't faded  since Thursday-if anything, it's multiplied-escalating at even a faster  rate than before. It's dangerous territory, I know, but I can't stop it  now. My body gives into every command, no matter what my mind says-Part  Devil and Part Angel has given up on me completely.

I grab my neatly folded clothes off his desk and quickly dress before  anyone else can burst in. It's 5:30 PM and way past my internship time. I  walk out with what dignity I have left without a word to Bentley.







My hair is a complete mess from being slammed against the wall  repeatedly, my clothes are wrinkled, and my face is completely flushed.

There's no way I can go home like this. I need time to cool off.

Instead, I drive to Cora's and decide to have that chat I promised her.

"Holy shit!" she shrieks when she answers the door. "She's alive!" She grins.

I roll my eyes at her melodramatic tone. "Barely," I quip. "Are you going to let me in?"

We walk to her room where she finally takes in my wardrobe. "You are a hot mess. Where have you been?"

I clamp my mouth shut, unable to keep eye contact with her. I may be  good at lying to Bentley and my mom, but Cora was someone I couldn't.  Ever. I've tried.

And failed miserably.

"All right, spill it." We both sit on her bed and face each other.

"You first," I counter. "Are you and Simon hooking up?" I ask bluntly.

"WHAT?" she gasps. "That's a big fat no."

I look at her suspiciously, eyeing her closely to see if she's telling the truth.

She's not.

I grin at her fake disgusted expression.

"Why don't I believe you?"

"I don't know. It's the truth. I hate Simon."

"You might hate him, but you were definitely making out with him yesterday."

"Who told you that?" she spits out before realizing it. Her hands cover her mouth, her eyes wide. "I mean, who said that?"

"I knew it." I laugh. "Totally called it, by the way."

She sighs. "Shut up. It was a one-time thing. Not happening again."

"Sure." I smile.

"Okay, so now tell me. This new guy-who is he?"

I spend the next hour telling her about Bentley. I leave out the whole  internship/boss thing, because I know she can't handle that, and I don't  want to hear her freaking out over it. I tell her that after meeting  him, we've been randomly hooking up.

It wasn't a lie. But it wasn't the full truth.

Honestly, I don't even know what's going on. I feel this whole situation  is slipping away from me before I even have a chance to firmly grasp  it.







After finding nothing on Samuel Anderson, I begin to wonder if he's even  connected to my dad's death. However, I can't stop thinking that if my  mother hid it that he had to mean something. I just have to figure out  how.

I change as soon as I get home, trying to take in the day's events.  Everything happened so suddenly. I'm not even sure how it happened. One  minute, I was getting his dry cleaning, the next he was fucking me  against the wall in his office with the housekeeper ten feet away.

I need to get my head back on. Focus on what I'm doing there in the  first place. Bentley's a major distraction-a nice distraction-but I have  to remember my priorities.

I decide to corner my mom and see if she'll tell me anything. It's a long shot, but I have to at least try again.

"Mom?" I peek in the living room where she's watching TV.

"What is it, Ceci?" she asks, yawning.         

     



 

"I think we need to talk," I begin as I sit on the other end of the couch.

She sits up with a panicked expression. "Oh, my god! Are you pregnant?"

I cock my head and grimace at her. "Yeah, you're going to be a grandma.  My baby daddy and I are running away to Paris," I taunt with a straight  face. "Congratulations."

She points her finger at me and scowls. "Seriously, that's not funny."  She puts a hand to her chest in relief. "I'm too young to be a grandma  anyway."

"I'm glad that's what you'd be most worried about." I roll my eyes at her.

"What is it, Cecilia?" Her face tenses. "Are you in trouble?"

"No. I want to ask you about Dad."

She shifts uncomfortably and stares at the ceiling hesitating before  responding. "What do you want to know that I haven't already told you?"

I cross my arms and ankles at the same time. "Well, how about dad's lock box for starters. What's in it?"

She gasps, her eyes widen in surprise. "H-How did you know about that?" she asks in a demanding tone.

"I've been searching for answers, Mom. For seven years, I've asked. I've  prayed to God to just tell me. I haven't been able to move on with my  life. Every day my scar reminds me, making sure I can't forget that day.  It's consumes me."

She swallows hard, shocked at my confession. "Who have you been talking  to? Do you have any idea what you're doing? You could be putting us in  danger, Cecilia!"

"By who, Mom? Why won't you tell me?"

"Who are you talking to?" she asks again.

"I have a … a friend who helped me. I found the note about Samuel Anderson under your mattress."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "You should've never done that. You  have no idea what you're doing! You're going to get us killed!"

"Then tell me, Mom!" I shout, my cheeks burning with anger and resentment.

"We're not having this conversation. You're … not ready," she proclaims. "It's to protect you."







My mom runs out on me with absolutely no answers-except that I know for  sure that the note does have something to do with my father. Which means  I need to find out who Samuel Anderson is myself, since she clearly  won't give me any answers.

My mom not telling me could be more dangerous than disclosing. I deserve  to know the truth, no matter what. And I won't stop until I have it.

Casey comes into my room shortly after. She sits on the end of my bed  silently. I pretend to read a magazine, but I'm watching her intently.

"We haven't talked in a long time," she begins. "Like really talked." I hear the pained regret in her voice.

I match her tone. "I know."

"How's Simon?"

"Good. Still longing after Cora but neither will admit it." I laugh. "And you? What's up in Casey-land?"

She narrows her eyebrows at me. "Casey-land? Oh, it's ultra-hopping, let  me tell you. My semester is packed with back to back classes plus  working part-time on campus. It blows."

I wrinkle my nose at her. "Something to look forward to."

"Yeah, right." She laughs. "Nah, it ain't so bad. College is awesome. You're gonna love it."

I shrug, not really agreeing with her.

"Can I ask you something?" I say softly.

"Yeah, sure." Her face flashes a look of concern.

I instinctively rub my fingers over my shoulder, feeling the scar with  my fingertips. "How much do you remember about that day? I know you've  told me before, but … do you remember anything else? Like any  conversations between Mom and Dad before?"

Her lips form a straight line. I know it's a hard topic for the both of us, but I needed to ask her.

She looks down and her voice is pained. "I remember them fighting a lot.  Mom crying. Dad begging her to forgive him. I remember he made her a  lot of promises." She finally looks up at me with sad eyes. "I guess he  never kept them."

I nod in return. I can feel my throat tightening up, becoming scratchy at just the thought.

"He loved us, Cecilia." I look into her eyes as she continues. "Dad  loved you so much. Always gloating about how smart and talented you  were." I smile weakly. "If he only knew what a hot mess, troublemaker  you turned into." She laughs playfully.