Page 92 of Frozen Hearts
It has been a grueling week of exams. The pressure has been immense, knowing how much is riding on these grades. My brain hasn’t switched off once all week, too busy racing with thoughts about all the materials I need to review and chapters I should revisit. My head is crammed with so many pointless facts, I’m surprised I don’t blurt them out every time I open my mouth.
I’ve never been more aware of the minute hand of the clock, thetick-tocka reminder that I’m running out of time and need to make the most of every minute.
The entire week has been nothing but a blur of study sessions, practice tests, and late-night cramming. Sleep is a luxury I can no longer afford. Thankfully, I only have one more exam before I can enjoy some downtime. I’m so ready for my first semester at Halston to be over, even if I have no exciting plans for winter break, unlike most of my classmates, who have talked non-stop since Thanksgiving about their plans to go skiing and vacation with their families.
I’d be jealous, except the thought of vacationing with my mother is equivalent to hell on Earth. Although, I would give anything to spend Christmas with Rora. I was away at school for her first two Christmases and Mom always ensured I remained there during the holidays. After I graduated, I moved in with my mom and Rora, but I had to work a double shift last Christmas and barely got to spend any time with my daughter.
Not once have I been with her on Christmas morning when she discovered her pile of presents from Santa waiting under the tree, and I ache to see her face light up with joy and feel that magical wonder.
I can’t think about Aurora without thinking of my mother, and not needing to go into this final exam with a burning rage clouding my thoughts. As I step into the classroom and head for a vacant seat, I focus on the various theories I need to know for my Statistics exam.
The exam is a mixture of multiple choice and short answer questions, so I lift out a pen and pencil, along with a backup of each and an eraser. Only when I have everything set up and I’m waiting for Professor Caldwell to hand out the papers do I look around the room.
That’s when I realize the broad, muscular shoulders in front of me. Ones I recognize. Somehow, I’ve managed to select the seat directly behind Logan’s. I hadn’t even noticed it was him when I sat down. Wide-eyed, I stare at his back, pain cinching my chest. We haven’t spoken since he showed up at my job on Saturday night, although I’ve seen him around campus with his usual groupies and fuckingWhitneyglued to his side.
Her constant presence irritates me more than it should. Or maybe it’s the fact Logan never seems to notice me, his attention devoted to her and his other brainless followers.
The only time I do receive his full and unwavering attention is in the parking lot of Lux.
I’m still not entirely sure what to make of that.
Is it a sign that he still cares?
I mean, why would he go out of his way to ensure my safety if he didn’t care?
Whatever his reasoning, I’m not entirely sure that it’s a good thing for me, seeing as my reaction to his mere presence is as visceral as ever. Although, it’s no longer that excited flutter I used to feel. Instead, it’s a sharp ache. A stabbing to the heart.
I feel betrayed. Not only by him but by myself. I thought he was different, but he turned out to be just as narrow-minded and judgmental as everyone else here. I totally misjudged him, and that’s on me.
And yet, I still can’t look away as I trace the outline of his shoulder blades, visible through the tight fabric of his top, before trailing my eyes down to his trim hips. I’m dying to know if he feels the same aching loss I do. Or has he so easily moved on?
Does he feel the same conflicting emotions? That desire to run away every time I see him, to escape the intensity of this pain, while also being drawn closer, wanting to bathe in his light for a moment longer before being tossed into the cold once more. Despite everything, I still feel that irresistible pull toward him. The lingering connection we once shared. It’s a twisted mix of wanting to never see him again and yearning for what we once had.
As though feeling my gaze on him, he turns in his seat, chestnut orbs widening when they connect with mine. His eyes bounce over my face, and I catch a flash of emotions too chaotic for me to distinguish before his features harden and he thrusts out his hand.
Glancing down, I notice the stack of pages, and I realize he didn’t turn around because he felt me staring. He’s simply sending our Statistics test up the row.
“Take one and pass it on,” he states gruffly when I make no move to take the pages.
The second I do, he lets go, spinning around and giving me his back once again. Lifting one of the tests for myself, I pass the rest to the person behind me.
“Alright, everyone, you have one hour. You may commence,” Professor Caldwell calls out to the rustle of pages as everyone begins.
Stalling, I lean forward and whisper, “Good luck.”
Logan doesn’t respond, but his shoulders tense, so I know he heard me, and after another second, I forget all about him as I dive into my own exam paper.
* * *
“Your admirer is back,” Ben snaps, sounding more irritated than normal when I step onto the floor at Lux that night.
Honestly, I’m surprised. Ruthless has been a no-show for the last two weeks since he made me come so hard I thought the universe was being torn apart around me.
A mixture of anxious anticipation thrums through me as I head for his usual booth.
Once there, I hover just outside his line of sight, unsure how to act. Howheis going to react. Presumably, what happened was too much for him, yet what does it mean that he’s returned?
I decide to simply follow his lead, and with my heart beating an irregular rhythm against my chest and my palms damp with nerves, I stride into his booth. He barely looks up from the phone clutched in his hand before dismissing me, and I’m left awkwardly standing there as I gawk awkwardly around the booth.
