Any second now…
Aurora’s throat felt tight, her breath shallow. She squirmed in her seat, feeling suddenly constricted. Uncomfortable. A dull pain settled above her brow, dragging on her eyes, making them heavy.
She shifted in her chair, struggling to focus. Leaning forward, she pushed again, reaching into Amelia’s mind, waiting for it to bend to her, searching for a way in, but she hit a steel wall, something mentally blocking her. She pushed harder, shoving at it. The barricade refused to budge or break. This was unexpected. She had never felt anything like it.
She pushed her influence again as hard as she could, and the steel wall shoved her out, pushing her from Amelia’s skin. Literally. Her back hit the plastic chair, rocking the rickety legs in a clatter on the squeaky clean floor. She stared in horrified awe at the foreign creature before her.
“Did you want to try that again?” Amelia asked. Amusement played in her fathomless eyes.
Aurora’s nostrils flared in anger. This stupid girl was making fun of her. “What are you?” she demanded through gritted teeth. Her back ached from impact. “Who are you?”
Amelia’s expression hardened, and Aurora tensed in her chair. She didn’t know what to expect from her now. She never liked feeling powerless, and she was dangerously close to feeling that way now.
Amelia stood, leaning over her. Aurora gripped the edge of the table, unsure whether to attack or run.
“This is your only warning,” Amelia said coldly. “Leave Todd alone or you deal with me.”
She turned, black silk hair flipping lightly over her shoulder. She hit the buzzer to exit and the door opened for her. She gave a casual nod to the nurses in the lobby as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. The metal and glass door slammed shut behind her, keeping Aurora trapped inside.
CHAPTER 7
DONE? SAYS WHO?
Eric sketched on his canvas, furiously marking it with brown paint. I watched curiously from my perch by the window, wondering what it looked like.
“Sandy,” he reminded me.
“Sorry.” I glanced away obediently, looking back in the direction he’d posed me in. “Are you done yet?” I asked.
“Almost.”
“Almost” was close enough for me. I hopped off my stool and hurried to his side before he could protest. I crossed my arms and stared at his canvas. There wasn’t much there, just a myriad of thin brown lines. “Sandra, you promised,” he complained.
I huffed and went back to my spot. “This would be more fun if I could see what you were doing.” I threw myself lazily down onto the chair, elbows propped on my knees and chin in my hands, not in pose. “This is boring.”
His eyes took me in quickly, soaking in some artistic information I was oblivious to.
“Don’t move,” he warned me. He put his canvas aside and searched his cubby for an oversized sketchbook, then began sketching me in charcoal.
I sighed. “Why was I cursed with such beauty?”
He was so focused that my joke went unnoticed. His eyes were intense and his hand scribbled madly. At least this pose felt more natural to me. Without moving, I glanced around the room lazily, taking in sketches and paintings by other students hanging on the walls and propped against the furniture. There were quite a few of nude subjects, male and female. A flush crept over my face. I really hated that part of his major. He spent hours staring at naked women. Studying their bodies.
“Am I a good model?” I asked inconspicuously.
“You’re a pain in the butt one,” he muttered with a sly grin.
“Do you get a lot of different models?”
“Mostly it’s just the same three.” He switched from a stubby stick of charcoal to a pencil and began whittling it to a sharp point with his pocketknife.
I tried to think of more questions that might come across innocently, but Eric looked up, catching my eye, and broke into that crooked grin again. “Jealous?” he dared.
Bingo. I shrugged, pretending I wasn’t.
“You don’t have to be. It’s just learning, Cassandra,” he said, beginning to draw again, this time with very careful strokes.
“I’d rather you learn in a different way.”
“Me too. I’m more hands-on. Care to volunteer?” he suggested, taking a second from his work to wag his brows at me.
“I thought that’s why I’ve been sitting here, not moving.”
He smiled. “Good point.”
“I think you’ve drawn enough,” I said, batting my lashes.
He lowered his sketchbook, grinning excitedly. “Yeah?”
I strode over to him, swaying my hips a little more than usual. He set his sketch aside, freeing his lap, and I climbed on.
Something sticking out of his backpack caught my attention. “What’s this?” I asked, snatching the letter and opening the glossy booklet attached to it. It was filled with pictures of gorgeous mountains, foreign-looking villages, and happy students.
“Uh, nothing…” Eric said. “It’s just this school in Italy. I was going to do a semester abroad last year, but since I ended up canceling, they’re trying to get me to sign up again.”
“You were going to Italy? Why’d you cancel?”
He hesitated. “Uh… Aurora didn’t want me to go,” he admitted dejectedly. “She forbid it. Since she thought I was under her control, I couldn’t really fight her on it,” he grudgingly explained.
My heart felt heavy at his words.
“But, hey, I’m glad I didn’t go. I wouldn’t have been here with you last spring.” He smiled, tucking the booklet back into his bag.
He was right, we probably wouldn’t have finally gotten together if not for everything that happened last spring, but I hated that Aurora had taken this from him. I refused to do the same.
“There’s still time for this spring semester,” I inferred from the bold print on the letter.
“Yeah, but I don’t want to go now.”
“Why not? You should. This would be great for your art.”
“I want to stay here with you,” he said, kissing my neck.
“You should go,” I pressed, ignoring his distracting advances. “You don’t want to miss this chance twice.”
He leaned back with a sigh. “I can’t. Next semester is my last. I have senior thesis and…”
“I’m sure they could work something out.”
He smiled slightly. “I like that you want to be supportive, but I really don’t want to leave you. We’ll go to Italy together someday.”
I released a heavy sigh, despite being relieved to hear that he wouldn’t be going. I’d miss him too much. Campus just wouldn’t be the same without him.
“Now… I believe we were about to kiss,” he hinted, leaning toward my lips.
I moved closer, brushing my lips against his, my mind running through the problems in our life. I forced myself to think of the good instead. Of the love we shared, of his hands on me, and of Italy together someday. My lips easily molded to his. I shifted closer still, tasting a hint of sweetness on his lips, the raspberry of my flavored lip gloss. I linked my arms behind his neck, drawing him closer to me, and opened my mouth to his. Heat built up between our bodies, which churned with desire. I wanted to feel his warm skin, to strip him down and-
Another art student walked in. I leapt off of Eric’s lap, my face flushing pink. Eric exhaled a slow stream of air, blushing sweetly.
“Hey, Eric,” the guy said, setting up at an easel close by.
“Hey,” he answered, sounding a bit forced.
I bit my lip, face burning red. “I should go get some work done. I’ve got a paper I’ve been ignoring for too long. Are you done with me here?”
Eric smirked. “Far from it, but I guess I can let you go.” He lifted a paintbrush and dabbed it into a blob of brown paint on his palette. “I’ll see you for supper?”
“Yep.”
He grabbed my wrist before I could run off and tugged me down for a quick kiss goodbye.<
br />
I left the art building and strode through the quad, mind running through the inappropriate things I’d wanted to do with Eric in that oil- and turpentine- scented room.
I noticed an odd shadow on my skin and slowed my pace. He’d left a mark on my arm. Dark reddish-brown fingerprints curled around my wrist. For a split-second, my mind registered the mark as bruises. Anyone who saw them might think they were. Like Eric had hurt me. I swiped quickly at the paint, but it only smeared worse.
“Slut,” someone coughed, masking their insult like a juvenile coward. I looked up quickly and realized it was directed at me.
Me? I didn’t even know the creep. He was sitting on a bench with a bunch of other students, snickering into their fists with amusement. Some diva girls cackled like the witches they were. I really hated that group of girls, only they weren’t the ones calling out insults, just having fun at my bewildered expense. I picked up my pace across the quad, hoping my humiliation would fade with some distance, only to stop short when I noticed Amelia.
I was halfway back to the dorms, and she was walking toward me from the parking lot. She waved as she approached. “Hey Sandy,” she called casually.
“Hi, Amelia,” I said curiously with a glance back to the crowd. They seemed to have moved on from me. I glanced back to Amelia, wondering what she was doing at my school.
“Tony just went looking for you and Eric.”
“Tony’s here?” I asked excitedly.
“I’m bringing him home a little early for Thanksgiving, and we wanted to stop by to say hi.”
“Cool,” I said dumbly, eagerly looking around the quad for Tony. “Eric’s in the painting studio.”
“Great, I’ll let him know.” She started typing quickly on her phone. “Done,” she announced cheerily. She looked up again, but something behind me caught her eye. Her lips pressed tight with disgust.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, glancing nervously at the shifting crowds behind me.
“Nothing. Just… Tony’s ex, Olivia. I don’t know why she’s here. Hopefully he won’t run into her, or he’ll be in a terrible mood all the way home,” she complained. Her brow angled and her eyes narrowed like she was willing to battle it out with the girl right then and there.
“Why don’t we wait for him inside,” I offered, leading Amelia away. She reluctantly followed.
Ashley was leaving our room as we entered, and we exchanged uncomfortable smiles. I wasn’t sure if we were getting along or not. It was hard to tell with her. Maybe I should just move in with Bailey. Things would certainly be easier that way.
Amelia settled on the edge of my bed, and I stood awkwardly by the door. “Um… do you want something to drink?” I offered.
She drew a plastic water bottle from her purse. “No, thanks. I’ve got that covered,” she said and took a slow sip. “We didn’t mean to surprise you, but Tony insists that I check on your shoulder.” She shoved the bottle deep into her oversized bag and shimmied to the foot of the bed to make room for me.
I couldn’t help but smile. Apparently Tony didn’t trust me when I said that my shoulder was feeling better. It had been about four months since Mike yanked it out of its socket in Virginia.
I considered refusing, but Tony would throw a fit. He was such a worrier. If he wasn’t careful, he’d have permanent wrinkle lines on his forehead in no time.
I sat down where Amelia wanted me. She moved my arm through a few simple stretches, testing my flexibility. I could easily picture her helping patients at the physical therapy office where she worked. She was relaxed, sincere, and thoughtful. Her fingertips gently traced the lines of my muscles. I watched her face as she stretched my arm out again. Her brow was tense, her lips tight.
“I thought I was doing good,” I offered lamely.
“Huh?” she said. Her eyes lifted to my face. “No. Yeah,” she uttered, sounding lost. “Your shoulder is good. Nice range of motion. It hasn’t been bothering you at all, has it?” she asked, massaging the muscle lightly again. “Any soreness?”
“No. I guess Tony just wanted me to be checked out by the expert,” I said with a smile.
She gave a tense grin and slid my sleeve back into place
“You look worried,” I mentioned.
“I’m sorry. It’s nothing.” Hesitantly, she added, “I’m just thinking. Trying to figure out if I’ve done something brave or incredibly stupid.”
I nodded dumbly, unsure if I was supposed to ask. When she didn’t continue, I changed the subject. “Have you seen Todd?” Her lips pressed tight and she shook her head. “Have you talked to him at all?”
“No. I’ve tried calling, but he doesn’t answer.” Her shoulders slumped, and she stared at the matted gray carpet. A note of sadness hung in her voice. “I hear he’s not very talkative lately.”
I looked away to mask my disappointment.
Her phone rang with a melodic tone, and she glanced at the number. “Sorry, Sandy. Do you mind?”
I shook my head, and she answered with a sweet hello. I rubbed at my shoulder, trying to be polite and ignore her conversation. I could see her reflection in Ashley’s tall mirror and took that chance to really look at her. She was beautiful in the way that made me irrationally want to hate her. Everything I wished I had, she did have. Full lips. Big dark eyes. A curvy body. Her hair was pitch black and her skin a glowing tan, despite the season. I felt like I was a little girl admiring a movie star. Awe and resentment coiled in the most awkward way in my mind.
I tried to picture her with Todd. I’d never even seen the two of them in the same room together, so I couldn’t come close to imagining them dating. She was so… not his type, and that was perfect for him. Exactly what he needed, even if he couldn’t see it.
“I’ll be home late,” she said into the phone. “Of course I will. Miss you too. Bye, Mark.”
My ears perked up at the last part. As she ended her call, I couldn’t stop myself from asking. “Who’s Mark?”
She was about to answer, but when her eyes met mine, the words stopped on her lips. The answer hung in that silent moment like a foul stench in the air.
“Boyfriend?” I asked in a low voice.
“Yes,” she admitted uncomfortably.
My heart dropped and my stomach twisted. I could vomit, hurl all over her suede boots. How could she? “Is it serious?” I pressed.
“Kinda.” She fiddled with her phone before dropping it into her purse. “What’s taking Eric and Tony so long?” she inquired innocently, looking to the door.
“What about Todd?” I demanded desperately. My jaw wound tight with ire. “I thought you cared about him,” I growled.
Her dark brow arched with concern. “I do, but-”
“But what?” I pressed. “You said you wouldn’t give up on him. You promised me.”
Her plump lips frowned with disappointment. “How long would you expect me to wait? It’s almost been a year since we were together.”
“So you just give up on him?” I accused, hearing a whine of hysteria in my tone. My blood was boiling in my veins. Maybe she had her reasons, but I had too much hope for them to sympathize with her. “He’s been through a lot in the past year. You don’t come back from amnesia with a snap of your fingers.”
“Sandy,” she growled. She looked like she wanted to yell at me and was barely withholding the urge. “We only dated for a week, and in that week he broke up with me twice. Amnesia or not, I know that I’m not wanted. I’m not going to wait for years for someone who didn’t want me when he had me, no less now.”
I crossed my arms, huffing angrily. “If you’ve moved on, then why call him? Why bother?”
“Just because I’m with someone else…” She exhaled a heavy sigh. “It doesn’t mean that I’ve stopped caring about him.”
“You’re sending him mixed signals, and that’s not right,” I snapped. “He’s not-”
My words cut short as the door swung open. Eric bounded in, a bright expression lighting his
face, oblivious to what he’d just stepped into. “Hi! Amelia, thanks for waiting.”
Her face was tight, her mood sour. “Sure. No problem,” she said carefully. “Where’s Tony?”
“We bumped into Vicky in the hall. He’ll be around soon.”
Amelia’s eyes shifted between me and Eric, like she was waiting for me to pounce again and weighing her options. “Do you have oil?” she asked him.
“In my room,” he told her, making a move for the door.
“I’ll come with you.” She grabbed her purse and jumped to her feet.
He paused in the doorway. “Do you think you could do Sandra’s head too?”
“Do what to my head?” I snarled. I didn’t like how familiar those two appeared. Since when were they friends?
“Mel…oiks?” Eric said, trying his best to pronounce something that sounded like gibberish to me.
“Close. Malocchio,” Amelia corrected him gently.
She looked to me, offering up her hoodoo as a peace-offering. Tony had tried to convince me to do it once before. I wasn’t sure how it was done or exactly why, but the last thing I wanted in that moment was to forgive Amelia. Someone had to be on Todd’s side.
“I can clear your head of negative influence,” she explained.
“My head is fine,” I declared, flinging myself to my pillows. I cracked open a thick textbook to hide my view of her.
“Cassandra, you should let her,” Eric said. “It really does help. We could use all the help we can get.”
“No thanks.”
Eric’s tone lowered. “Sandra, please-”
“I don’t need any magical help,” I scoffed bitterly.
I could hear the reluctance in Eric’s steps, but I knew he wouldn’t argue with me in front of Amelia. My refusal was pretty much guaranteeing a fight with him later, but it didn’t matter. As he left with her, I couldn’t care less. I didn’t need anything from her, and neither did Todd. We’d be just fine without her and Mark.
CHAPTER 8
IRONIC HOLIDAY
I tossed denim shorts into my suitcase with the rest of my out-of-season clothes. Time was flying. It was Thanksgiving already.
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