The Lie(15)

High cheekbones.

A strong jawline.

And the most haunting blue eyes in the world.

Eyes I never ever thought I’d see again.

I freeze in place, or maybe it’s just that my heart stops beating, and I can hear Melissa saying, “Natasha, oh my god, come with me, let’s go, you won’t believe this, oh my god,” as she grabs my arm and tries to haul me away.

But it’s too late.

Because those eyes see me.

They see me.

And Professor Blue Eyes looks like he’s been hit by a train.

I know the feeling.

It’s your heart and soul being smashed to smithereens.

Because of one person.

One look.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” Melissa says quickly, and I’m turned around as she tugs at me, our eye contact broken.

It. Can’t. Be. Him.

It can’t.

And yet it is.

I look back over my shoulder and meet his stunned gaze once more.

Brigs McGregor.

The love of my life.

The love that ruined lives.

One step forward and five million steps back.





.





CHAPTER FOUR

Brigs

London

Present Day



I check my watch. Five minutes until my class starts and I’m still scrambling over the tutorial notes. I made these months ago, but now that I’m here, among the students and in the school, I felt like it has to feel more organic, so I’ve spent my morning in my office, scrapping everything I was slated to speak about today.

The subject is still the same: analyzing Harold Lloyd’s performance in Safety Last. But that’s the problem with working on things months before you need to. You’re often a different person by then. We’re all changing, even in the subtlest ways, and now I’m realizing—last minute¸ as per usual—that I need to make things a bit more dynamic to capture the students’ attention. They are grad students, but still, they could have easily chosen another class. In most grad classes, you assign the film for the students to watch on their own, but I want to do things a little differently.

With one minute to spare, I grab my briefcase and head down the hall to the classroom, passing Professor Charles Irving on the way. That man’s a real piece of work. He gives me a snide side eye, along with a nod, as if he acknowledges my presence and hates me for it. I guess that happens when you’re the new guy at work. And in teaching it’s just a little bit worse. Generally, when you have a teaching positon at a prestigious university, you hold on to that for the rest of your career. Turnover is minimal unless you fuck up. Which I did at my last job because of my breakdown. And I’d only been there for two years. Nothing quite like ruining a good thing the moment it’s in your hands.

Of course the loss of my job was nothing compared to the loss of everything else.

I heard the man I’m replacing had been here forever, an old but brilliant man with a fondness for hitting on the students until it turned into full-on sexual harassment lawsuits. I’m pretty sure the only reason I got hired is because they wanted new blood, and my uncle Tommy is friends with the department chair, which reminds me I should get in touch with my cousin Keir who said he’d been in London for a few days. It would be nice to have someone to talk to other than Winter and Max, the bartender at the pub.

I take a deep breath outside the classroom door and then stride on in.

I nod at the students, walking over to my desk, throwing my briefcase on top, and taking out my notes. While they’re getting settled in their seats, I glance around at them. A few more people here than last week which is what I expected. In a class of twenty students, it’s easy to notice absences.

My eyes pause on a girl sitting in the middle. She’s staring at me curiously, and the moment I make eye contact with her, her brows raise as if in shock and she quickly looks down at her laptop. She looks strangely familiar, but I can’t exactly place her. I guess she kind of looks like every girl. Long dark hair that’s been fussed over with a curling iron, a big wide forehead, small eyes, thin lips. She’s cute but would be ultimately forgettable if it weren’t for the fact that she’s eyeing me like she knows me too.

I clear my throat, putting my focus on the rest of the class. “Good afternoon,” I tell them. “Hope you all got a chance to get started on Funny Faces of Celluloid over the weekend. Anyone catch a good film?”

There’s that bloody awful moment where the question hangs over the classroom and I’m afraid no one is going to answer. But one girl, with a red bob and a wide smile, raises her hand. I nod at her.

“The Phoenix cinema was playing a double header of The 39 Steps and The Lady Vanishes.”

I walk around the front of the desk, trying to keep my eyes on the redhead and not the girl who keeps gawking at me. “Some of Hitchcock’s earliest work, before he moved stateside. What did you think?”