The Lie(83)

Brigs suddenly cups my face in his hands, his eyes roaming all over me like a wild horse. “I love you,” he whispers. “And you love me. Don’t forget that.”

I swallow thickly. “I won’t.”

I can’t.

I’m out the door.





CHAPTER TWENTYONE

Brigs



I’m pacing the flat, curling and uncurling my hands into fists. Winter is lying on the floor, staring at me. For once he’s completely still, his head down, his eyes following my every movement as I go back and forth.

I don’t know what’s going on with Natasha. I texted her, phoned her, emailed her. It’s been a few hours since she left to go back to her flat and confront Melissa, and I’m worried sick.

I should have seen this coming. I’m a bloody idiot is what I am.

I knew that Melissa was up to something, but my god damn ego didn’t realize how duplicitous she was. I thought maybe she was just jealous of Natasha and wanted what she couldn’t have. I never thought it could come to this, that she would turn to stalking us, threatening us. I should have figured that out but I didn’t and now we’re paying for it.

I can only hope that Natasha can talk some sense into her. I know I can’t, even though I’m willing to try. If things don’t go well, I’ll call Melissa into my office after class and try to reason with her. I’m not above bribing her. If she wants perfect grades and to never show up to my class again, I’ll give her that. It goes against every moral principle I have about being a teacher but Natasha – and my job – is more important than that. I’ll do anything to make this whole thing go away.

But I guess the real problem is that we still wouldn’t be out of the woods. We’re still hiding ourselves away from the public, because of what could happen if the school finds out. What I need to do is fix that from the inside. Make sure we’re safe, that we can be together, whether someone like Melissa tries to ruin it for us or someone else. I should have done that from the beginning, but love plays you like the ultimate fool. Love is a trickster, a joker, and the master of the sleight of hand. She makes you look one way, and only one way, while she makes the rest of the world disappear. Eventually you’ll raise your head from the one you love, look around and wonder what the f*ck just happened.

I continue pacing, until Winter starts looking anxious and then I take him for a walk, texting Natasha repeatedly.

Are you okay?

I love you.

Did you talk to Melissa?

What is happening?

Please talk to me.

Natasha, please, I’m so f*cking worried.

And nothing. No response. I contemplate going to her flat, but even if I knew where it was, I have a feeling my presence would only make things worse.

This is hell. And I’ve been in hell before, so I know.

I don’t know how I go to sleep that night. I write her a few more emails, bordering on becoming stalkerish myself. I check her Facebook but she never uses it anyway. My calls go straight to voice mail.

I know something is terribly wrong.

The next morning I have no choice but to get to school early and plant myself outside of Professor Irving’s class in hopes of seeing her.

“McGregor,” Irving says to me, looking me up and down. “Trying to learn a few things? I would be more than happy if you joined my class.”

“I’m looking for a student,” I tell him mildly.

“Oh,” he says as the students file into the lecture theatre, giving us curious looks, wondering what I’m doing there. They’re all undergrads but I know Natasha is a TA for this class. “What student?”

“One of your TAs, Natasha Trudeau.”

He nods, squinting at me. “She’s rather bright but hasn’t been paying much attention lately. A shame, really. She could do well if she applied herself.”

Applied herself. I hate that f*cking teacher speak and it’s something I try my best not to say to students. But the reminder itself is good, because it reminds me that there is so much more going on in our world than just our relationship. There’s a chance that Melissa could mess things up for Natasha too, just when she’s gotten her life back.

He pauses. “Is Miss Trudeau one of your students?”

“No,” I say and I don’t offer any more than that.

“Very well then,” he says, thankfully not pressing the issue. He heads inside the theatre. “But she’s often late, just so you know.”

He’s right about that. She’s so late that she doesn’t even show up at all, even as I wait nearly the entire class. Now I’m worried as f*cking hell.

I head back to my office, trying to plan what to do next, my head down, my brain sorting through all the possibilities.

Then I look up. And I see her, standing outside my office door.

I start running down the hall, like if I don’t catch her in time, she’ll disappear.

Don’t let her become a ghost again.

“Natasha,” I croak and up close now I can see her red, puffy eyes, her raw nose. She looks ravaged, like she hasn’t slept in months. “What happened? I’ve been trying to call, texting, emailing you. I’ve been worried sick.”

“I know,” she says, pained.

I reach out to touch her face but she flinches away from me.