Blake’s voice lowered as he scowled. “Oh, he’s gonna like you all right.”
“Boyfriend,” I reminded him. “Why does no one remember this?” My patience was wearing thin.
Blake’s eyes softened, turning my insides all gooey. “Just watch your back. I don’t trust it.”
“I always do.” My voice was soft yet firm.
Jessie pushed away from the table. “I’m heading out to class. Call me later, Eva, and I’ll give you the details.”
“Will do. Bye, Mama. And thanks again.” I waved.
Blake stood and extended his long fingers in my direction, offering me assistance. “I’m here to escort you to your next class, m’lady.”
I smiled and took his hand. I’d let him have this. Besides, with him around, my shaky ass could probably use the help. “Why thank you, sir. You’re so kind.” I tried my best to cover up the chills coursing through me. I thought they were good chills; they felt different, like warm, fuzzy little effervescent bubblies.
He kept my hand in his as we began the short walk to our English class. I looked up at him and raised a questioning eyebrow.
“What? Best friends hold hands. Don’t they?” He squeezed my fingers a little tighter and looked ahead.
“Yes, but . . .”
“But what?” he pressed. “Don’t tell me we’re not best friends anymore. I can only handle one heart attack a day.”
I sighed, muttering under my breath, “What am I gonna do with you?”
“I can think of a few things.” A smirk played on his lips.
“You’re so bad.” I nudged him with my free hand. “How am I supposed to be your friend when you’re always saying things like that?”
“I’m just kidding, Angel. Lighten up.” He began to swing our hands like we were regular old sweethearts. “So how ‘bout that weather, huh?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I laughed.
We arrived at class, and he escorted me to his VIP section, twirling me before lowering me into my seat.
“Such a gentleman.” I looked up at the chivalrous man before me. Wanting to reach out and touch him, I knotted my fists together.
“Always.”
He sat on top of my desk and peered down at me. Moving one finger across my forehead, he pushed aside stray hairs, then twirled the ends between his fingers. His sparkling eyes began to look heavy as his gaze slipped to my lips. “So how about Friday then?”
“Huh?” I muttered, staring at his plump bottom lip.
“Dinner.”
“Oh.” Crap. Lie! “Studying.”
He eyed me warily, as if he could see through my ruse. Unaffected, his finger left my hair to trace my jawline. That one fingertip was like a lighted match to my skin. “Saturday then?”
Time for my go-to.
I sat up straight, bringing my game-face back, although I felt the disappointment simmering beneath the surface of my mirage. “Going to visit my boyfriend.”
He didn’t flinch—again. He just kept moving his thumb back and forth along my chin, driving me insane.
Damn him!
“Sunday then. And I won’t take no for an answer. I need to feed you.” His eyes stayed trained on my lips as his thumb stroked dangerously close to them.
I swallowed, ignoring that fact. “You need to feed me?”
“Yes. You’re wilting away.” He moved up to caress my cheekbones now. “What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t feed you?”
“I am not wilting away. I’m the same weight as always,” I said defensively, even though my voice lacked authority.
He leaned in, placing his full palm to the side of my face to steady my gaze. His glinting eyes raked the length of my body before settling his determined stare on my green ones. “Sunday. You’re all mine on Sunday.”
The air lodged in my throat, fighting with my esophagus to be set free. It felt like my insides were replaced by a swarm of fluttering butterflies.
Is my heart quivering? Can the heart actually quiver? I can’t breathe. Oh god, I can’t breathe.
“Are you all right?” His eyes widened as he dropped his hands to cup my shoulders. “Breathe!”
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.
Full. Blown. Panic attack.
Run! Don’t let him see you!
“I can’t do this.” I sprung up on shaking legs, grabbing my bag as an afterthought, and darted past him, making a run for the door.
“Angel. Wait. I’m sorry!” he shouted, panic evident in his voice.
Not as sorry as I am.
My legs ran and ran. I didn’t know where I was going, but I couldn’t stop. If I stopped, I would feel this and I didn’t want to feel it. I didn’t want to feel anything anymore. I kept trying to shut off my nerve endings, but they wouldn’t listen. They just hardened their resolve to continue the endless torture, making me victim to constant lashings day in and day out.
My subconscious drove me to the last place I had felt happy and safe—Bertha.