Chapter 22 Neve
TWENTY-TWO
NEVE
The moon is beautiful and the stars are bright despite the lights around Drayton as I head down the steps of Salvatore Hall, leaving Dr. Patrick’s seminar behind.
We analyzed a clinical case study and tonight’s was unsettling.
The patient had many bipolar features but he was actually antisocial.
Not a mood disorder, but a personality disorder.
The overlapping symptoms of impulsivity and aggression threw me off, but the lack of remorse when he was jailed for picking apart a rabbit—his sister’s pet—at least threw antisocial personality disorder into the mix.
Eventually, I understood precisely what his diagnosis was and why. He never had episodic behavior. He was constant in his disregard for rules and decency.
My mind flickers to Sylvan. Frostbite. I roll my eyes to myself, but I can’t help thinking over everything I know about his patterns.
It’s not much, but the way he showed up at my place unexpectedly, how he stalked me to get my number, the manner in which he casually broke Will’s nose, then there was the cornering me in public at the bar…
Something is off about him. Or maybe he’s just vain, selfish, reckless, and immature.
Not everything is a diagnosis. Some people are just assholes. I repeat the words from a past professor inside my head, willing myself to believe it.
I shiver beneath my white wool jacket as I stand under the dark sky. It’s cold and quiet but not deserted. Still not enough people to make me feel safe, but considering everything, I guess my paranoia is warranted.
I blow out a breath of condensation, ready to get back to my cocoon of a bedroom, close my eyes, and zone out.
But I nearly jump out of my skin when I reach the last step and someone bumps into me.
Putting distance between us, I whirl around and find Edmond.
Edmond Donaldson, I remind myself. The one who tried to speak to me at the game. The guy in my class who I was kind of an asshole to.
“Fuck,” I say, letting another cold puff of air leave my mouth at the same time. “You scared me.” As if that’s not obvious, Neve. Get it together. I clear my throat and clench my fingers around my cell in my coat pocket, my red leather school bag hiked up on one shoulder.
“Sorry,” Edmond says with a smile as the few other students in our class disperse around the two of us at the bottom of the steps.
I glance up at the towering gray stone building to my right, tipping my head back to take it in. There’s a light on in the top floor. I wonder if Dr. Patrick is up there. For some reason, it feels like someone is watching me, and truthfully, I’d be relieved if it was her.
After spilling most of my guts to Cynthia on Sunday, three days ago, I’ve done my best to stop being so wound up. She told me that my connection to Jackson and Will was so tenuous it could mean nothing, and if Will was hanging around on campus, he was clearly messing with someone else.
But she only has half the truth.
As it is, the news broke of Will’s death, and everyone is a little spooked.
I don’t think everyone knows yet—or maybe too many of us just don’t care, the way no one seems afraid to venture out to night classes or stroll along the grounds in the dark—but it’s in the news now, and Drayton sent another safety email.
Eventually, theories will emerge. Some of them might be right.
Some of them might point at me. But so far, despite the fact two bodies have dropped at Drayton U, neither myself nor the hockey players have been named in relation to the events that happened the night Jackson died.
Only Cynthia knows about that on my end, and Nolan, too, who has texted me nearly every hour the past few days to the point I’m considering blocking his fucking number.
Just for a day. He’s threatening to drive up here this weekend, insisting they might have a “serial killer situation” on their hands at Drayton U.
But so far, no police officers have come banging on my door or hitting up my phone to drag me back into their investigation.
“Didn’t mean to frighten you. You just seemed a little off in class.” Edmond’s words bring me back to the present. The unusually cold night. The threat of snow in the air.
The fact I have to walk by the library on my way home.
I avoided it heading to class, coming straight from early dinner with Cyn at the main dining hall. Cyn didn’t say a word about the fact I only ate berries and peanut butter, but I could feel her eyes judging my plate.
Judging me.
I’m going to have to make a big show of eating something bad tomorrow, in front of her. I’ve saved up enough calories this week to do it, considering my appetite is nearly gone from all the worrying I’ve been doing.
But two people I haven’t had to worry about?
Sylvan Connor and Faust Darling.
I’ve heard nothing from them since Saturday night when I walked out of the private room at the lounge, after we agreed on exactly nothing. Their silence is almost as unnerving as their presence.
“Oh, I’m just tired,” I tell Edmond.
He nods once like he understands, and he probably does. Edmond works night shifts four nights a week at a warehouse. That much I’ve learned about him, as he was a little more talkative in class since he saw me Saturday night.
I realize my complaint was stupid considering his work schedule and I open my mouth to say so but he speaks first.
“I’m going into work so I need to wake up anyway. Do you want me to walk you to your place? The cold air is like a shot of espresso.” He smiles small and he really is pretty handsome. Quiet but not like Faust. Less intense. Shorter; about my height.
I start to decline his offer, but when I happen to glance over my shoulder, I see the looming darkness of the brick walkway to the library. Not many people are out that way this late tonight, considering it’s so damn cold. Or maybe they are more worried than I thought.
“You know what?” I turn to Edmond and flash my teeth at him. “If you have time, that would be wonderful.”
As we get closer to the library, I realize I’ve gone quieter, but Edmond doesn’t seem to mind. He fills in the gaps of my anxiety as I eye House Memorial with its peaked roof, pale stone, and the double doors with golden-trimmed handles bigger than my arm.
The only windows are set in the wall, far from the door, and they’re stained glass. No way to see inside.
No one comes in or out and while it’s not usually empty, I can only imagine the crime scene tape that would have adorned this place a few nights ago until very recently has scared a lot of people off.
“So anyway, my boyfriend is coming up this weekend but I’ll be working exactly fifty percent of the time he’s here so you can imagine how that’s going to go.” Edmond is rambling on and I realize he’s the type that doesn’t shut up when he’s making new friends. A lot like Tasia.
And I also realize he’s gay. Bi, at the very least. Which makes me feel safer with him. And that thought almost distracts from the looming shadow behind the awning from a stone post of the library.
Almost.
Eyes peer at me from the depths and a gust of wind slices like cold steel through even the wool of my coat as I stop walking abruptly, Edmond still prattling on about his soon-to-be disappointed boyfriend.
I open my mouth to call after him, my eyes locked on the man standing in the shadows, but words fail me.
Thankfully, Edmond notices I’ve lagged behind and he turns, then closes the gap that’s formed between us.
“Sorry, I got carried away—”
“No,” I interrupt him, reluctantly dragging my eyes from the shadow by the library, onto the veranda. “I actually remembered I need to snag a book from inside.” I smile at him, and it’s not fake. “Thanks for walking me this far. I really appreciate it.”
Edmond frowns and plays with the beige scarf around his throat. “I can wait for you, honestly, it’s not a problem. My shift isn’t for another couple of hours.”
“I think I’ll stay inside for a bit and try the hot cocoa,” I lie. I’ve never had it and don’t plan on starting tonight, but I don’t want to tell Edmond the truth. Can’t. Not without it being a big thing.
I don’t have time in my life for any more big things.
My mind flashes to Sylvan, his cock underneath me when he forced me onto his lap, but I push the memory away.
“But I’ll see you next week? And good luck with your boyfriend.”
Edmond smiles at that. “I should probably call him now, anyway. Sweet-talk him a bit so he doesn’t hate me too much this weekend.”
“Good plan.”
“Night, Neve.”
“Bye, Edmond.” I wait awkwardly until he turns around, and when I start to take the steps up toward the shadow by the awning, it moves.
“Is he gonna be a problem?” Faust Darling asks quietly, his eyes black even beneath the library’s outdoor lighting.
He’s not looking at me. He’s staring at Edmond, whom thankfully I can hear from here is on the phone with his boyfriend and not watching the captain of the Dragons stalk me in the night.
I duck past Faust in case Edmond turns around and I lose a potential friendship just like I lost one with Tasia, and now I’m the one in shadow.
Faust doesn’t turn to look at me, which gives me ample opportunity to look at him.
He’s wearing all black again, but this time, he’s got a proper winter jacket on. Wool and cashmere from the looks of it, with a black scarf to match.
He looks handsome tonight, instead of just hot.
But he also looks like the fucking problem.
“Were you waiting for me here?” I snap, keeping my voice down even though there’s no one around and Edmond has long since turned off the path, no doubt to head to his place. “Are you taking turns with Sylvan, stalking me in shifts?”
“Was he walking you all the way to your place?” Faust asks without turning toward me.
“Why the hell does it matter to you?”
He turns then.
We’re toe to toe, and even in my platform winter boots, I have to look up, and he glares down his nose at me.
“I don’t know.” It’s angry, those words, but at least they sound honest.
“Figure it the fuck out, Faust Darling.” I don’t want to be here, knowing someone stabbed Will right around here, and I also don’t want to be talking to Faust because he confuses me, and now I have no one to walk home with in the dark.
But I don’t let that stop me from trying anyway.
I shove past the big brute of a hockey player, but just as I’m about to head down the library steps, he moves to block me.
I have to throw my palm out to keep my balance, and once more, my hand is on his chest.
“You’re not walking home alone.”
My phone vibrates in the pocket of my coat and I roll my eyes at Faust, ignoring him entirely as I put distance between us, drop my hand, and pull out my phone.
It’s Cynthia.
Cyn
Tylone is over tonight. I’d LOVE for you to meet him. But in case you want to stay out a little later with your hockey boys, feel free ;) Also though… please do what’s safest.
Fuck.
She wouldn’t care at all if I came home and locked myself in my room, which I’d gladly do, turning up my music loud so I can’t hear a thing.
But I want to give her space too.
And before I can think of what to reply with, my phone is pulled from my hand.
And held above my head, the screen facing Faust fucking Darling.
He’s more of a brat than I gave him credit for. I thought that title only belonged to Sylvan.
I hop up and down, trying to swipe the phone out of his hand as I let my bag swing down from my shoulder and smack him on the arm with it.
But he has no problem keeping it out of reach.
That’s what happens when you’re six fucking four.
“Great.” He must read the text, because after a moment, he offers my own phone back to me.
I snatch it out of his hand, purposely letting my nails scrap against his palm. “Great, what?” I snarl, clicking the side button to dim the screen and pushing my phone in my pocket, my fingers turning to ice out here.
“You can come to my place.”
“Absolutely not—”
“I want to talk about Sylvan. Unlike him, I don’t want to fuck you, Neve.”
This shuts me up.
It kind of annoys me too, because it better not be true. Not that I would fuck him tonight, or ever, but maybe I’ve thought about it in the nearly four days I haven’t heard a word from him.
A soft smile tugs on his lips and I drop my gaze to the chains around his throat, which doesn’t help, because they’re fucking hot, contrasted with the lapels of his coat.
“Please?” he asks quietly.
“And you’ll drive me back home when I want to go?” I negotiate, thinking of his red BMW.
He nods once. “Yes, North.”
North? But for some reason, I don’t question the nickname.