Chapter 11
Daphne
I finally started gaming again. Phantom teammates are calm now, and my nights are spent at the rig, instead of lying awake
After an uneventful past few days, it seems all is right with the world again. I still have flashbacks from the night of the murder, but my worries have started to fade.
My guilt remains though—I should have reported the crime, I should have done something—but as the days go by in routine fashion, I start to think that maybe I should just pretend the whole thing never happened.
After all, there were suspicious looking Russians at the police station and the police officer with the tattoo was definitely the same guy I saw at T Bar.
Since I couldn't trust anyone and Aaron was still on leave for medical reasons, the best thing to do was shut up and go on with life. I've been praying that everything will be fine and I'm slowly starting to believe it.
"Oh, hi," I mutter, when I see my neighbour from down the hall.
The only thing not normal is Yonah, the New Yorker who sometimes has a Russian accent and always seems to bump into me when I leave for classes in the morning. My muscles stiffen for a moment, watching the door close behind him. I never see Alex with him, he must be staying here alone.
Does Alex stay off campus? Are the dorms beneath him or something? The thought of his pompous friend has me frowning, and it's too damn early in the day for my mood to sour.
"Daphne!" Yonah exclaims excitedly. He's always smiles and sunshine, the total opposite of me in the mornings. I've never been a morning person and since I usually sleep around 2am every night, I'm not the most enthusiastic either.
He meets me in the foyer and hugs his backpack to his chest. "You look very tired, Daphne. Did you not sleep well?"
"I never do." We walk down the stairs side by side and Yuri offers to carry my stuff. He always does and I always decline.
"Can I get you a coffee, Daphne? Something to wake you up?" The harsh sunlight illuminates his fine golden hair, making it glow and his skin is so pale, it's almost translucent.
I shake my head, smiling at him. There's something about Yonah that's impossible not to like, I can't quite put my finger on it but he just seems so innocent.
"Let's get one together," I say, checking my phone to see if we still have some time before class. We walk ahead, weaving past a few buildings till we reach the famous campus cafe—the Orange Idiot.
Yonah is telling me some story about a Spanish drama he used to watch but my mood takes a dip the moment I see who is standing in front of the cafe.
Alex's skin is glowing—a light bronze illuminated by the sunlight and his dark wavy hair is tousled, like he's been running his hands through it. I gulp softly, my thirst growing when I take in his fitted white shirt that's been rolled up, revealing tanned forearms.
He's so jarringly beautiful, like a real life manhwa character.
He's too preoccupied to notice us, speaking in hushed whispers into his phone, his frown deepening as if he doesn't like what he's hearing.
Our eyes meet and the familiar apprehension returns. My skin flushes under his stare and I don't know how someone can evoke such a visceral reaction but he seems to do it every time we look at each other.
He nods at us, focusing on me when we reach him and suddenly I want to turn around and head anywhere else. I've been trying to avoid him ever since that night at the Dirty Martini, but it's hard when Yonah's always around.
"Daphne," he murmurs in acknowledgement as I walk past him and head inside the cafe. It's always crowded in the mornings before class. I have to squeeze through just to line up for coffee.
"I take it you had a bad night, considering your lack of manners," Alex mutters from behind me and I resist the urge to turn around because we are too close to one another.
"It just got worse," I reply, trying my best to scoot forward, putting some distance between us. Yonah is at least likeable. Alex on the other hand never has anything nice to say, so the less we speak to each other, the better.
He chuckles and I inhale softly, relishing the scent of him. I don't have to like the guy but I can't deny that he always smells so good—his signature scent of sweet earthy musk mixed with his masculine smell is nothing short of addictive.
Everything about this man screams temptation, except the words that come out of his mouth.
We finally get to the front and I order a caramel latte, craving something sweet for a change. I dig around for my wallet but before I can find it, a hand brushes past my shoulder and Alex swipes a card over the machine.
"One hot Americano, please," he tells the man behind the counter, who does a double take when he looks at him. Everyone seems to do that around Alex.
I whip around, noticing that we are way too close, our chests almost touching. "I can pay for myself." I frown up at him, crossing my arms over myself.
He simply ignores me and moves out of the way to collect our orders. Yonah moves to the front to make his order and I shift to the side when people in line shoot me dirty looks for blocking the front.
"What's your problem?" I hiss when I reach Alex.
He raises an eyebrow. "I have a problem?"
"Yes, yes...you do." I put my hands on my hips. "You can't buy me coffee and insult me at the same time."
"I don't remember insulting you. Not today at least." He grins and winks at me, evoking a giddy like fluttery feeling in my stomach. I hate this. I hate him and his stupid, straight white teeth.
I pick up the coffee cup and move out of the way, heading out of the cafe as quickly as I can.
"Wow, not even a thank you?" Alex's voice echoes from behind me. Somehow the two guys have already caught up and I inwardly wish Stacey was around to take the attention off me. She must be at practice or at one of her other electives.
"Thank you, Alex. Though, I didn't ask for it." I clarify sarcastically, not bothering to look at him because hundreds of other girls are already doing so. Every student we pass turns to check Alex out. I wonder if he notices.
I'm sure he does. I'm sure he has a long line of admirers that strokes his ego and satisfies his needs.
I frown to myself as we walk into computer lab. Why am I thinking about Alex's needs?
I shake the dirty thoughts out of my head. The sight of a familiar curly-haired silhouette has me doing a double take, and I immediately stop in my tracks.
The two New Yorkers nearly bump into me from behind and I hear Alex telling Yonah to watch it. But it all sounds so far away. There's a dull ringing in my ears as I take in Aaron's face—the dusting of freckles on his cheeks, the way his dark eyes crinkle together as he frowns at the computer screen.
He doesn't notice me standing there like a statue until the teacher walks in. I hurry over and occupy the empty seat next to him.
"Aaron," I say breathlessly, like I'm speaking to a ghost.
He's been gone for so long—ever since the day of the murder—and never bothered to call or tell me where he's been or what he's been up to. And now, here he is in the flesh. I have to blink several times to make sure I'm not imagining this.
He turns to me and smiles timidly. "Hey, Daphne." He then runs a hand through his hair that looks longer, more untamed than usual. "What have I missed?"
What have I missed?
I open my mouth to speak but I'm at a loss for words. I have so many questions at the tip of my tongue, I don't even know where to start.
Up until now, I've always tiptoed around Aaron. I've had the hugest crush on him for so long and, as a result, was always on my best behaviour. But today, something inside me slips and the words tumble out of my mouth.
"Where the hell have you been?"
Aaron's eyes narrow my way and the sharp look he gives me is something I've never seen before, like he's a different person. I've never spoken to him like that and it's obvious he notices. But then again, it's sweet heart Aaron. I'm sure he sees that I'm coming from a place of concern.
After all, I've been messaging him everyday since we last saw each other.
"I've been sick, Daphne. I thought I told you to give me some time." He grits out and turns back to the computer. He opens up a series of tabs, following the instructions from Ms Jacobs. His tone is so cold, so detached. It's like the Aaron who held my hand in T bar was no longer here in the room.
I turn to my computer, my lip wobbling as I try to contain my emotions. I have a sudden, overwhelming urge to cry, because maybe Alex has been right the whole time and I really am a desperate fool.
Clearly, Aaron doesn't care how I feel.
Today's assignment is something we've done numerous times before—create a surreal photo manipulation using at least five composite images and unify everything into one believable scene.
The lab is silent, save for the sound of clicking mouses and fingers dabbling on keyboards. I hear a soft groan and peek over my shoulders, noticing Alex staring at his computer in bewilderment. His hair is a beautiful mess and he gives Yonah the dirtiest look, who leans in to help him out.
The sight of him struggling gives me immense pleasure, cheering me up immediately. He catches me staring and I shoot him a wicked grin before turning back to my screen.
By the time class is over, I'm feeling relatively better, no thanks to the person seated next to me. I'm about to stand up, having given up on trying to figure out what Aaron has been up to, but he puts a hand on mine, startling me.
"I'm sorry," he says sincerely, eyes shining with guilt. "I've been horrible. There's been so much I had to deal with, I never bothered to check in on you after inviting you out that night."
When he puts it that way, it makes me feel even worse. It only further reinforces how I'm not a priority to him.
He takes my hands in his and squeezes them. I thought I would feel happy after his apology and this sudden attention and contact, but all I want to do is pull away.
I slowly ease my fingers out from under his. "What happened to you? Why did you disappear that night? And that bag---."
"Shhh, let's talk elsewhere. Not here, please." He stands up and he's still holding my hand, so I'm pulled up with him.
"Follow me." He doesn't give me an option as he drags me out of class, his fingers wrapped firmly around my wrist.