Page 28 of Revere
“About what?”
“You.” It’s honest and raw, and he doesn’t seem like he regrets his admission.
“There’s not much to me.” My stomach flutters. “I’m not that interesting.”
“You prefer people to think that about you, don’t you?” He scratches the back of his neck, and I’m desperate to feel that hand—those fingers.
“I’ve already told you I don’t care what people think about me.”
He smirks. “And we’ve already established I don’t believe you when you say that. Because you do care, don’t you, Patience? That’s why you don’t want to be noticed? You’re afraid someone might reallysee you,and then you’d have to face that judgment. That’s why you try to stay in the middle of the road, so you won’t be seen. Just like the essay you submitted with your application. Good enough, but not memorable.”
“We’re back to you insulting my essay?” My eyes narrow. “If it was that terrible, then why did you let me into the program?”
“I never said it was terrible.”
“You’ve said plenty to confirm it wasn’t good enough for me to be here.”
“Yet here you are.”
“And why is that?”
A slow, menacing grin climbs his cheeks, but he doesn’t answer my question. Almost like he’s toying with me. “You have a difficult time letting down your defenses, Patience Lancaster.”
“I didn’t ask you for a therapy session,Professor.” I stress it like I’m trying to remind myself and him exactly who he is and why we can’t be doing this.
“I’m no therapist, so I guess that works out for both of us.”
My mouth falls open, but I snap it shut.
Is he hoping I’ll say something terrible so he has a reason to kick me out of the program? Maybe he gave me a shot based on a mediocre essay. But now he’s decided I’m not carrying my weight, and he wants me to be the one to give him the reason to cut me loose.
I refuse him that satisfaction, so I stay quiet.
“You’re not going to say what’s on your mind?” His eyebrow hitches.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I doubt that.”
Why does everything he says sound like he sees straight through me?
“Ah, I see…” Amusement flares in his eyes. “You don’t trust me with your secrets.”
“Trust is earned, and I don’t even know you.”
“Is there anyone you do trust?”
“Completely?” I ask, and he nods once. “My brother. At least, I used to trust him. I don’t know anymore.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I can’t trust the people he surrounds himself with,” is all an answer I give.
Professor Gray may or may not know about Sigma House, but I’d rather not talk about it. I’d rather spend the summer pretending it doesn’t exist at all.
“Why does this suddenly feel like an interrogation?” I swallow hard. “Do you get to know all your students like this?”
“Maybe just the ones who fall into my lap on planes.”
