Chapter 50 Elle
ELLE
At Lethe’s, I get out of the cab I took and make my way inside. The neon sign out front is turned off, presumably since it’s still the middle of the day, and the parking lot is only sparsely populated, so I can see why Sutton chose this place to meet.
Fewer prying eyes here, which is more important now, since he’s being investigated by the school.
Inside, the lights are dim, and I don’t see anyone behind the bar, but I take a seat at it anyway. I feel like a fucking teenager getting to see her celebrity crush for the first time at some meet and greet, which is ridiculous, but apparently I’m quite enamored with the stuffy professor.
Three days is a long time when you aren’t sure where you stand with someone.
No one comes out to take my order, but I hear them in the kitchen messing around, so I don’t mind. I didn’t come here for a drink anyway. Alcohol in the middle of the day feels a little too much like a crisis, so I’d rather just sit and wait.
Ten minutes pass. I glance at my phone, frowning. Did I miss him already? I assumed that the note had been taped only briefly before I discovered it, but what if he wanted to see me this morning? Or last night even?
An hour isn’t a very good distinguisher, which I plan to make known whenever he finally shows up.
Thirty more minutes tick by. Still nothing.
Forlorn, I stare at the front door, silently willing him to enter. When he doesn’t, I slide off the stool and go to the bathroom, just for something to do.
Coming out of the stall, I wash my hands, noticing a beat late that there’s something scribbled on the mirror. I look up, stepping back to get the full picture, and my heart plummets to my stomach.
Et tu, Brute?
The words drip down the glass in thick crimson liquid. Like they were just written.
Another Shakespeare reference, but I can’t imagine Sutton trying to freak me out like this, no matter how mad he is.
Grabbing my things, I power walk back to the door, my fingers closing around the knob at the same time something shoves against me from behind.
My forehead connects with the wall, blurring my vision as I’m accosted and wrestled to the ground.
I flail, trying to find a weak spot in my attacker, but they’re stronger and have the element of surprise on their side.
My head swims, unfocused. Something pricks the side of my neck, and the unfocused bits become darker and darker until I can’t see anything at all.