Look through my eyes

Chapter 13

Asher's hand moves nervously over his legs. I swallow expectantly at his actions.

I try not to be so surprised when he finally moves his hand to take mine.

An empty popcorn box is placed on my legs.

Asher removes his hand, and I grab the box before it falls.

If my eyes don't shoot flames, it's because God wants Ian to stay alive.

The black-haired guy settles back in his seat, but he can't hide his damn grin.

I'm about to open my mouth to let him know my repertoire of insults when my cell phone vibrates.

I open my purse, and as best I can, I see an incoming call from an unknown number.

My heart is pounding.

I approach Ash.

"I'll step out for a moment; I need to take this call." The guy lowers his gaze and frowns as he sees the unfamiliar number.

"Do you want me to come with you?" I shake my head.

"I'll be back soon. " I stand up, completely ignoring Ian, before walking out of the room.

I walk to a pillar, placing my back against it.

When the third ringtones sounds, I hold my breath, but it's when the fourth everything sounds that the hectic sound of the cinema ceases to exist.

It's always three ringtones, always three before hanging up.

Four ringtones—

Something is wrong.

"Hello?" my hand goes to my chest, squeezing at that place where the pain is starting to get stronger.

"Sophia Young?" my brow furrows as I hear a vaguely familiar female voice.

My mind seems completely disconnected, trying to put a face to the voice, thinking of everything that could have gone wrong.

"Sorry to disturb your afternoon, this is Professor Garcia speaking, we talked this afternoon about being an assistant in some art classes."

I have to put my hand over my mouth to keep my sigh of relief from sounding so loud.

"Yes, good afternoon, Professor, thank you so much for calling me," I say, running my hand through my hair, trying to calm my heart.

"I saw you turn in your information, and I needed to call you. Sorry again to interrupt you on your afternoon; I was seeing you only have one class after lunch." I nod, but then realize she can't see me, so I answer her. "I was calling to let you know that this weekend there will be an exhibition. Some of the guys who are graduating are preparing it; when this one is over, they will have the opportunity to expose to the public their works, we would need some hands to move everything and also to guide the visitors."

"I would love to help." I say, mentally writing down all the directions she gives me.

I put my cell phone in my purse, after registering the teacher's number.

I feel hands on my back, I turn around, seeing Asher's small smile.

"Everything okay?" I nod, taking one of his hands. "Are you hungry? I was thinking of running away from them, what do you say?"

"I couldn't think of a better idea."

I take out my contacts, sighing in relief as I remove them after all day. I wash my face and change into my pajamas. I put my glasses on my face before leaving the bathroom.

I walk to my bed, placing my computer on my pillow, arranging a bag of potatoes on my lap.

I watched the recording of the governor's last interview for the ninth time. And although there is a slight feeling of discomfort in my chest, I carefully write down his words, noticing a slight rash on his left hand.

My search history is full of different diseases that might indicate something. My father's ancestry appears in one of the old folders my grandfather shared with me, my family's diseases on his side are not very promising.

It was a relief to find out that the Alzheimer's gene was not in my blood, it would be a miracle if Oli didn't have it, with the gene so strong in that family. But hiding his father's disease is something the governor did very well.

He hasn't shown any symptoms so far, but mental illness should not be an attribute you would look for in a governor.

I open a can of soda, thundering my neck, closing one window, reopening another where a video of Oli's mother appears.

Her smile is as radiant as her son's, but the sheer number of foundations becomes suspicious to anyone paying a bit of attention. The question here is whether she knows about her husband's dealings, or whether she lives blinded as well.

My mail notification pops up.

I smile excitedly, seeing the mail from the university in Spain. Nothing less was expected from Oli's grades.

Now, how to make him want to leave?

Sophia's Outfit