He hated the sound of her leaving because it meant he was alone again.
A month ago, he’d cherished the silence. It had been his best friend, the place where he could be himself and hate himself more easily.
Now, he hated it because there was rarely silence when Darcy was around. She was the noisiest person he’d ever met, but he’d come to appreciate all the little things that made her her. Like the way she’d hum so quietly whenever she concentrated; he didn’t think she had any idea that she did it, but she always did. Or the way she’d laugh softly every now and then, even if he didn’t think what he’d said was funny.
More than anything, though, it was his name on her lips that he loved the most. Every syllable was an undiscovered slice of heaven being pulled through the veil to reality. Every purr, every murmur, every cry—they were all his favorite things.
He cricked his neck and shut the water off. He stepped out of the shower and grabbed his hot towel from the heated rack before tying it around his waist. His reflection stared back at him from the mirror, and he paused in front of it.
There was a lightness in his eyes. He hadn’t seen it for a long time. Four years, to be exact.
And Darcy was the reason for it.
He hated that too.
He pushed off the sink and stormed into his room. The towel fell to the floor with one quick tug, and he dressed in his boxers and some sweats. It took him three attempts to get the tie knotted as he went downstairs and turned into his office.
Her letter was sitting on top of his desk, her name scrawled on the envelope in thick, black Sharpie. He picked it up and sat in his chair. His wet skin stuck to the leather backrest as he leaned back, focused on the letter.
The envelope was smooth as he spun it around between two fingers. Her name filtered in and out of his vision with each twist, and he sat there for what felt like the longest hour, just playing with the envelope.
Her future was there. Right there in his hands, twirling and twisting on his command.
Her future was his. His to control. His to create. His to break…
Dear Professor, it used to be so simple… Xoxo, Darcy.
The rain beat against the window. I’d finished the assignment ten minutes ago, and instead of working on the stuff I knew I’d have to do at home, I was staring out the window, watching as the raindrops raced down the glass pane.
It was the easier option. The assignment had taken it out of me—Shakespeare and his tragic idea of love always did—and my mind was still preoccupied by Christina’s e-mail.#p#分页标题#e#
I needed to reply. I did… I knew it. But I was scared. God, I was so scared.
A week ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated. I wouldn’t have been able to reply quickly enough.
Now though… I sighed as the class ended. I packed my things up and left the classroom without a word to anyone else. Maybe it was time for me to grow a pair. After all, I didn’t want to be in this situation. I’d lost track of my aim. I’d forgotten what I was really trying to do, and that was getting the kind of thing that would stop Jordan’s game in his tracks.
If Christina was the person who had that information…
I swallowed down the rising bile at the thought that, if she did and it worked, it’d all be over. The evenings, the secretive smiles in the middle of class, the anticipation of what would happen next—all of it. Gone. All of that would remain would be memories.
I didn’t really want those, either. I had enough.
I sat down at an empty table in the middle of the library and slumped forward. I buried my face in my arms and took a deep breath before slowly letting it out.
Pull yourself together, Darcy. It shouldn’t be this hard to send a fucking e-mail.
As always, my voice of reason was right. I could have done with her showing up a couple of weeks ago, but whatever. Better late than never.
I sat up and pulled my laptop from my purse. While it loaded, my eyes scanned the library. It was pretty quiet, and almost everyone was sitting alone, immersed in either their book or their laptop. Christina’s e-mail was still sitting in my trash folder, so when my e-mail was up, I restored it to my inbox and clicked on it.
You aren’t the only one.
A shiver trailed down my spine as I read the words again. There was something about seeing them in black and white on the screen. They were realer than the ones I’d been throwing around my mind since I’d seen it.
My hand shook as my pointer arrow hovered over the reply button. Fuck, I needed to do it. What the hell was wrong with me?
I did it. I clicked.
Just like that.
I blew out a long breath and hit the message box.
To:
[email protected]