Page 105 of Drown Like Heaven
“Yeah? How?”
“I didn’t want to get my hair wet. Now it’s all the way soaked, and you don’t even have actual conditioner. You havetwo-in-one.” I shuddered with revulsion. My hair was going to feel so gross.
“I’ve got a nice hairdryer. I’ll dry it for you.”
“You do?”
“I think so.” He walked across to a small closet near the entrance of the bathroom, then pulled out a sleek hairdryer and showed it to me—still in the box. Did he even live here? Why was his entire life like this? The playlist on his phone, the picture on his lock screen, the lack of personality in both. It was like he wasn’t even living his own life. It just existed, void of an occupant. And then there was Mason, doing something else.Tormenting me, I guess.
“Okay,” I grumbled, then finished my shower.
Chapter 27
Dakota
I felt my face was a little extra flushed as I walked into my Unit Ops class, taking my seat in the back corner as usual, keeping to myself. When Dr. Killshaw entered, all my horrible memories came rushing back, overtaking my brain and making my face burn—with embarrassment now.
You know I could get you expelled.
Attempting to control my breathing, I stared out the window at the trees and the gray sky showing in strips between them. Wind moved the heavy branches and pushed the clouds across the sky, their shapes swirling and combining.
His email was still sitting unanswered in my inbox.
Whenever I thought about it, I got anxious all over again, remembering the feeling of waking up so unexpectedly in his office. The way I’d been so shaky and immediately defensive, expecting him to try and cut me down before I got the chance to say a word.
I didn’t understand why he would extend the offer again if he was so worried about me doing something that would put his career in jeopardy.Propositioning him for sex. I crossed my arms on the desk and laid my head down, hiding my face as nausea curled in my gut. He had to be bluffing, though. Didn’t he?
Hewas the one who invited me to lay down in his private office, and that had to have some sort of significance.Henoticed me leaving class early.Hesought me out to see if I was sick.
Ididn’t do any of that.
I simplyreacted.
But he wanted to make me believe I was weaving my own illusions of our interactions, creating intricate webs that didn’t correctly estimate reality.
Footsteps in front of the table made me stiffen, my eyes slowly turning to see the shoes.
“Masters,” Dr. Killshaw said.
I reluctantly sat up, staring at his large hand resting on the surface of the desk in front of me, relaxed, his fingers loosely postured.
“Would you mind staying a minute after class?”
Slowly, I let my gaze drift upwards from his hand, traveling his arm before landing on his face. His eyes were unreadable but intense. Focused directly on me.
“Sure,” I answered flatly.
He nodded once, then left.
For all I knew, he was probably going to let me know he’d decided to inform the dean of my almost-offer of sex and I was getting expelled today. Probably not—but maybe. I could never tell with him, could never tell what he was actually thinking or what he actually wanted. He was a frustrating mystery, slowly making me lose all sanity.
It was almost impossible to focus on any of the actual content during lecture, because I was so fixated on worrying about the man at the front of the room. As the minutes ticked on, my guts twisted into a tighter and tighter knot of anxiety. I wiped my palms on my jeans, eyes constantly returning to the clock on the side wall by the door.
By the end of lecture, I hadn’t comprehended a word of content, and I felt like I was going to throw up. I’d sufficiently worked myself up to the point of genuine panic.
Maybe it was irrational, but I couldn’t stop my mind from infinitely running through the same loop, the same thoughts. Even when I told myself I was freaking out over nothing, I couldn’t break the cycle.
I needed reassurance.
