Chapter 8
“Hatred is blind; rage carries you away; and he who pours out vengeance runs the risk of tasting a bitter draught.” — The Count of Monte Cristo
LILAH
Ibarely sleep. How could I?
Every freaking time I close my eyes I hear tires screeching against wet pavement and see headlights barreling toward us so fast my body jerks awake before impact ever comes, scaring the shit out of me.
By three in the morning, I give up trying entirely and just stare at the ceiling while rain taps softly against the apartment windows like fingernails.
Watching.
Waiting.
Then I imagine him in prison staring at my picture while doing pushups and shudder.
Is he outside? Dare I even look?
By six I’m exhausted enough to drift off.
By seven Charlie is pounding on my door again, does she ever quit? She saw my mental health last night, it was insane. “Yo, if you miss class after surviving hot professor gate you deserve academic probation.”
A groan escapes. “Please, scream louder by all means, I don’t think the neighbors who hate us from upstairs heard about my torrid love affair.”
“NOPE!” She sings. “Also campus is literally insane right now, somebody made hot professor merch, another TikTok got like six million views overnight, showing pictures of him all over campus looking hot. I had no clue the guy was into Hyrox but it shows man, it shows, no wonder girls were throwing themselves at him, you included, no offense at all.”
“None taken.” At least I could look back and acknowledge he was pretty to look at and enough of a distraction from real life that I honestly should have taken more advantage of it and him now that I’m stuck with jump scares from Jude, huh, kind of has a ring to it.
My attentions piqued. “Are they talking about any of the girls at all?”
“What?” She frowns.
“The Dean’s List thing?” She pauses outside my room. “People are selling shirts that say ‘I survived the purge.’”
Damn.
I sit up slowly and immediately regret it when nausea rolls through me. My chest still feels tight from last night, like my body remembers terror even if the rest of me wants to pretend it didn’t happen. What a mess.
Charlie knocks once more before disappearing toward the kitchen. “Coffee’s done! Also, if you bail on our date tonight I’m dragging your corpse there myself!”
Right.
The date. Because apparently almost dying wasn’t enough excitement for one week along with Jude’s resurrection.
I force myself out of bed and immediately check my blinds.
Empty parking lot.
No black car.
No Jude.
My lungs loosen just enough to breathe.
See?
You’re being dramatic.
He drove you home, came back from the dead, and nearly killed you in the process.
That’s all. Ha ha.
Sure, he psychologically tortured you and drove into oncoming traffic while monologuing like a homicidal philosopher but technically you survived.
Gold star for me. I didn’t have a breakdown and he didn’t see me crumble at least not completely.
If he’s trying to make me hate him more, he’s succeeded.
If he’s trying to make me hate myself in the process he’s failing beautifully, I already had that past-self enough to kill her off.
I still dream about that night and no amount of him threatening me is going to make it better.
I’d have to still be that person and I’m not.
I shower too fast, throw on jeans and an oversized sweatshirt, then debate covering the dark circles under my eyes before deciding there’s no amount of concealer powerful enough to fix emotional trauma or jump scares from Jude.
The second I step onto campus I know something’s off.
The atmosphere is different like the school itself is holding its breath waiting for the other shoe to drop or maybe just like me waiting for more news on The Dean’s List and if it’s actually been exposed for real this time or if there are just rumors Evans was on it.
As long as the lore behind The Dean’s List exists, it’s going to get blamed for literally every bad thing here especially downfalls.
Clusters of students stand outside buildings whispering while scrolling on their phones.
A girl near the fountain is openly filming a TikTok.
“And get this, another one bites the dust, none other than super sexy professor of the Arts Evans. Blackstone University has been notorious for its elite powerful families so this one’s gonna hurt a bit, guys.
You gotta wonder what donors are doing right now that their name is getting dragged through the mud…
” He curses and elbows a guy next to him.
“Move dude, I can’t get the building in the frame if you’re standing so close. ”
Everywhere I look people are staring at their phones like they’re all waiting for another name to drop associated with the list and that’s when my own phone goes off.
“Countdown to The Dean’s List Manifesto.” What the hell? I click open the email; my blood runs cold as I read it.
The rumors are true. The list exists. If you have no reason to be on it, then you have nothing to fear, and if you want to pay to stay off our radar there are ways to earn our favor.
If you receive a red form in your mailbox this evening, our advice is to do exactly as it says otherwise, you’re next and we don’t sugarcoat our findings. The fallout is never pretty.
A shiver crawls down my spine. It was sent to my campus email and it’s like I can see in real time as everyone reads the same thing.
“…that was one time last year!” A girl rushes by me. “You think she told?”
“My parents would kill me. Forget finding a job in corporate. Earth wouldn’t even keep me!” Another yells into her phone as tears stream down her face.
I can’t decide if I’m relieved I’m not the only one panicking or just relieved in general that it’s out in the public and it’s one less thing Jude can threaten me with.
I may have slept with my professor but he’s already been exposed and I was careful, there’s no way Jude knows and if he did, all he’d say is that I did what apparently at least five other girls did.
So I’m safe.
I take a deep breath then stumble to a stop.
It never specified campus-related mistakes did it?
And that’s when my world comes crashing down around me as waves of anxiety float down my body freezing me in place.
Jude’s showing up.
Jude threatening me in the car.
Jude giving me free rent, making me feel safe like I escaped a burning building only to be carefully starting a fire around me that’s inescapable.
If he’s in control of the list that’s one thing, the two things do not have to be related. So why does it feel like they are? His family donates a lot of money, if anyone has access it’s him.
A guy with dark hair steps around the corner of the arts building and my entire body locks up. My pulse spikes so hard it hurts. But it isn’t Jude. Just some random student wearing headphones.
God.
I press a hand against my chest and keep moving.
This is ridiculous.
I’m ridiculous.
Still, every shadow feels wrong after that. Every deep laugh in the hallway makes my stomach twist. Every black jacket catches my attention long enough for panic to punch through me before logic catches up. And now I’m wondering if I’m going to see red when I go check my campus mail later.
I hate that he’s done this to me.
That somehow after one night he’s everywhere.
I reach Evans’ hallway and stop cold.
His office door is open.
Empty.
Completely empty.
The nameplate is already gone.
Good riddance.
A maintenance guy wheels out a cardboard box while two girls nearby whisper furiously.
“No way they cleared him out that fast.” He sounds panicked. Is he worried about the list too?
“I heard they found coke in his desk.” The other whispers. “He was high like every day.”
“My roommate said he slept with like six students.” The other whispers back.
Shit. I would be one of them. This does not bode well for me. I get closer and listen in.
“My TA said the Dean himself aka big daddy corporate came in last night.” She lowers her voice.
“It was super bad, the guy can’t show is face in polite society for at least a year, his dad’s sending him to Europe though and completely cut his trust off, not that it matters, he’s got his own money.
They’ll erase him and he’ll somehow come out of this married to some German Heiress, just wait. ”
It’s like he never existed on campus, like the school decided to get rid of the stain as fast as humanly possible. And they did it that easily. Without leaving a trace. It just proves if you have enough money you can get away with anything, if you have power too—you’re a god.
A familiar fear crawls up my throat and lodges itself there. What happens when the Dean’s List decides someone else doesn’t belong anymore? What if it decides to make up a white lie? What then? Who the hell is in control of it?
What happens if that someone is me? Is that the real reason Jude’s back? He said he was owed retribution. Maybe his way of doing that is ruining my life. It would be so easy, a man with that much power, that much revenge in his blood.
I hurry toward class, keeping my head down.
People are quieter today. Even professors look tense when I pass them in the hall. One of them manually checks IDs before letting students into lecture like we suddenly attend prison instead of college. What the hell? Like we would go to class this early on purpose if we didn’t have to?
By the time I make it to the studio building, my nerves are completely shot to hell. I freeze when I see a piece of paper sitting on my desk, in my assigned seat—my only assigned seat I’ve been given in college.
At least the piece of paper isn’t red?
It has no name on it. No markings at all. It’s just sitting there taunting me. My hands start to shake at my sides. I don’t reach for it right away.
To touch or not to touch.
“….I love your handwriting.” I whispered to Jude. “It’s so composed and handsome, can handwriting be handsome?” I tapped my pen on his notepad and leaned in. He smelled so good, I finally relaxed against his chest.
“It’s not the handwriting, it’s the intention behind the note itself.
” He whispered. “It means, I’m thinking of you so much I can’t help but put it into words that are forever.
Once a compliment is given out loud all you have is the memory of the moment.
When you give a compliment on a piece of paper, you can read it over and over again.
The intention is forever. My intention is that you don’t forget the words I write. ”
I opened the note and gasped. “You’re prettier with your hair up.” I smack him. “Remind me how that’s a compliment?”
“Prettier,” He says. “You’re always pretty. I just like to see your face. I hate when it’s hidden because then I can’t see your eyes very well and your eyes are…” He points to the rest of the note. “Your eyes are my downfall.”
“Thank you.” I whispered back.
I snatch the note from the table and open it quickly.
One line written in perfect black ink, structured, expensive looking.
Congrats, you made it through traffic. See? Frogger wasn’t so bad. You’re even smiling today--shame.
My blood turns to ice. Did his handwriting really need to be that nice still? And did he really need to draw a heart and a frog that looks like Kermit when he knows I like frogs? I’m still shaken up from the email and from him and just everything.
A chair scrapes loudly behind me, and I whip around so fast my sketchbook crashes to the floor.
Everyone stares while heat rushes to my face. I’m sure I have blotches on my skin and look guilty for no reason. “Sorry. I barely choke out the word and crouch to grab my things when I feel someone behind me.
A hand reaches out. It’s his. I would recognize that hand anywhere. He’s holding a pencil out to me. I quickly snatch it. He’s here, he’s been here watching me slowly lose my mind, but for how long?
I look up. “Thanks.”
He nods. “Anytime.”
He turns and leaves.
Wait was he just seeing if I’d read the note? Or was he following me? And why is he just walking out of the room? Did he have something to say?
He seems unfazed.
Uninterested.
“Class,” Someone says from the front. “Today I’ll be your adjunct professor while the new hire gets his things in order,” He checks his watch.
“He was supposed to drop by, but until then, I’d like to deal with the elephant in the room.
Campus wide email was hacked earlier this afternoon, if you’re being threatened by anyone or anything please go directly to campus security and the admissions office, we’re trying to deal with this silly threat of the Dean’s List as much as we can.
We have suspicions that it’s a hack trying to gain sensitive information from students.
Please know, if you are asked to do anything dangerous or hand over personal information, the school would never ask that of you.
Keep vigilant and focus on your studies.
Let the police do their job in getting to the bottom of these baseless threats. ”
A hand shoots up. “But what about Professor Evans? He was on the list and?—”
“—Did you see the list?” Our new adjunct professor asks.
The guy shakes his head. “Thought so, it’s all speculation and rumor.
Focus on your studies, things like this tend to die down fast once we know what the person wants.
Now, if you’d all pay attention I’m going to go over the notes left for your final sculptures… ”
I try to pay attention, but after five minutes it’s useless, instead, I trace the frog that Jude drew with my pencil over and over again and when I’m asked what my sculpture will be I blurt out: “The Princess and the Frog.”
Like an idiot.
And like an even bigger idiot, for some stupid reason, the idea of that as my final sculpture makes me smile.