Falling in the Dark | ✓

17 | Dream

Liam opens his mouth and murmurs, "Carmen."

"Yeah?" I whisper back, nervous and quiet.

"I -"

Suddenly, the unmistakable honk of a large vehicle pierces the air. We raise our heads to the sound of an approaching truck. Liam climbs to a stand and helps me to my feet. In the distance, I can make out the silhouette of a snow blower truck. A few moments later, it materializes as it clears away the snow, billowing plumes of thick white smoke into the misty air.

"The tow truck must be behind it," Liam says, craning his neck in an attempt to search behind the yellow monstrosity. I can barely hear him over the metallic whir of the blower.

I'm filled with dread at the prospect of leaving this place and returning to campus. I turn to glance at the ground behind me. The all-too-familiar sense of longing causes my heart to twist at the sight of the snow angels that look like they're holding hands.

To an oblivious onlooker, the angels could be a symbol of innocent love. But I know that it's proof of betrayal - a secret - that needs to be buried deep underground.

❅

My eyes shoot open when a loud tapping noise reverberates through the wooden desk and into my ear. I lift my head from the table, disoriented. I blink hard and straighten in my seat when my gaze lands on Mr. Murdoch standing in front of my desk, smirking at me.

"I was just telling the class about how to understand the business buyer market," he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose by the metallic frame. "Can you tell me what the first step is, Ms. Westbrook?"

"Uh, I'm sorry," I fumble awkwardly, rubbing my face with my palms. I can feel everyone's eyes burning into my back from my seat in the front row. "I don't know."

"The first step, Ms. Westbrook, is to be awake," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Muffled laughter echoes through the lecture hall. I duck my head in embarrassment and mumble another apology.

"Now, as I was saying," Murdoch claps his hands and walks back to his podium, seemingly satisfied with my mortification. "The business market, commonly called the B-2-B market . . ."

The next thirty minutes are excruciating. Hard as I may try, I can't focus on the rest of the lecture. It's impossible for my sleep-deprived brain to deal with the anger, guilt and hurt suspended inside my head in a slurred mess. But I will myself to stay awake, rubbing my eyes every time I forget to open them after I blink. Whenever my eyelids close, I'm back in the car with Liam, my ear pressed against his chest, the wind howling outside the windows, our legs and hands entwined to ward off the biting cold.

Finally when the hour is up, Murdoch leaves. I climb out of my seat with an audible groan. My limbs are leaden as I heft my backpack over my shoulders. Just as I'm about to walk towards the exit, a familiar voice stops me in my tracks.

"Rough weekend, Ms. Westbrook?"

I turn around, lifting my bleary eyes to Felix's unsmiling face. A vague pang of guilt hits me when I realize that I'd forgotten to reply to any of his texts.

"Or are you just ignoring me?" he asks when I say nothing. Instead of his usual flirtatious and joking tone, his voice is edgy with a note of accusation.

"No, Felix," I mutter, shaking my head in confusion. "I wasn't ignoring you. I'm sorry, it was a rough weekend."

"What happened?" he asks, crossing his arms across his chest. The fabric of his plain white t-shirt stretches across the muscles in his arms. I get the strange feeling that he's challenging me to give him an interesting and convincing story. Luckily, I don't have to stray too far from the truth.