Chantal
Pretending like last night never happened is harder than I need it to be, but one beautiful, loud distraction that helps is my best friend, Millie Thine.
“Chantal!” she squeals the moment I stumble into class, desperately seeking her out for a moment of normalcy. The second I hear her voice and the clang of the several bangles she’s wearing as she waves at me, my heart swells.
“Millie! I’m so sorry I’m running late, this morning was—”
“Oh, forget about that,” Millie interrupts as I reach her. She grasps my arm and drags me down into the seat next to her with the brightest smile on her gorgeous face. Her hand warms my elbow for a few moments then she gives me a pat.
“You missed one hell of a wild night last night!”
Oh Millie, you don’t know the half of it.
“I did?” I ask casually as I dig through my bag for a notepad and pen.
“Yes! We went out to the Oyster Club, you know that new dance place that opened up across the street from Bennies? Well, they were doing a two-for-one on drinks and girl, you know I can’t pass that up. It’s actually pretty decent inside, they’ve got an ‘Under the Sea’ kinda vibe going on right now, and all these lights and pillars covered in coral!”
As Millie talks, the class fills with other students greeting each other and taking their seats. The scrape of chairs and loud clatters of books and laptops on desks jolts me a little and I force myself to focus on Millie.
“I’m sorry I missed it,” I say.
“Are you though?” She rounds on me with one perfectly plucked brow arched. “You never come out with us, so I’m not sure I believe you!” She pouts playfully and tosses her head.
“I am,” I insist. “You know how it is, I need to work to keep the money coming in and with this being our final year it’s hard to keep on top of things, y’know?”
The truth of wanting to avoid being posted on social media, or letting alcohol loosen my tongue too much, can never see the light of day and I’m well practiced in making excuses to appease Millie without coming across as a boring betty.
Or I hope so, at least.
“Even people who work deserve to go out partying,” Millie retorts dramatically. “You’re going to have to loosen up one day!”
“So what was Oyster like?” I ask, quickly distracting Millie. If there’s one thing this girl loves to do, it’s give me every detail of what I’ve missed.
“Oh, it was beautiful. Blue pillars, silver coral, and all the bartenders were dressed like sexy mermaids,” Millie explains. “All the drinks were sea themed, too, so I had like three Blue Lagoons, and then this drink called Ariel’s Nipple, which I know sounds insane but it was very fruity. I think it was my favorite drink of the night, actually.”
I straighten my notepad on the desk as I listen, scanning the class as the hubbub rises from more and more students.
“Declan was there, you remember him? He was the tall guy with the glasses from New Year?”
She looks at me expectantly and I can only shrug. I remember him, but listening to Millie talk is comforting and I’d much rather soak up her presence.
“You’re hopeless.” She shakes her head so quickly that her dangling pink earrings clatter against her necklace. “Declan is the guy from New Year who turned up in the gold tuxedo with the turtles all down his back? Excellent hair, terrible kisser. Anyway, he was there last night dressed in bright orange, he glowed neon under those lights and I said to him, I said…”
Try as I might, Millie’s voice begins to fade into the background. The class is nearly full and the air around me seems hotter than normal. Every brush of jackets or bags against my arm as someone passes makes me flinch, and there’s a growing scent of aftershave that’s nearly overpowering.
My stomach flips and I clutch at my notepad. A ringtone blares somewhere to my left and obnoxious laughter rises from the front of the class. Something that sounds like my name barks to my right, but as I glance over I can’t see who could be asking for me. The heat rises and sweat breaks out across my forehead. I lift my hand to brush it away and—
“—it was murder!” Millie declares.
“What?!” I round on her immediately as a jolt of warmth lances down my spine and my heart leaps into my throat. “What was?!”
“Dancing!” Millie repeats with a frown. “In the pink heels I got from Harpers? Chantal, were you even listening to me?”
Oh.
Of course.
“I am listening, I am,” I insist with a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, guess I’m not feeling well.”
“This is exactly why you need to come out with me next time!” Millie pats my left forearm once more. “If nothing else, you need to relax. Come dancing, maybe meet a cute guy…?” She wiggles her brows at me as she trails off and I force a laugh to calm the thumping in my chest.
“Yeah… maybe.” Oddly enough, the man from last night suddenly pops into my mind so sharply I flinch. Not because of the gun or the murder, but because of the sharpness in his eyes and the strong angle of his jaw. The flop of his dark hair was all messy from whatever had occurred.
With a moment to reflect, he was incredibly attractive and with Millie’s teasing words about finding a guy to treat me better than my previous fleeting exes and help me relax, there’s a tiny part of me that entertains that thought with a man as gorgeous as the mystery man.
Until sensibility rears its head and I shove those thoughts away as the professor enters and calls the seminar into order.
I can’t be thinking thoughts like that about a dead man, that’s crazy. What the hell is wrong with me?!
It’s the shock.
I’ve been through enough therapy as part of the witness protection program to know that the body and mind can go crazy after witnessing something traumatic, but I would have thought I was used to it by now. And never have I considered any man involved with such horrible deeds to be attractive.
But that one—
No Chantal, stop it!
I cut those thoughts off with a scold and grip my pen tighter while the class washes over me.
Get it together, girl!
I have to forget everything about last night, from the gun and the blood right down to that handsome, chiseled face. Latching onto details that don’t matter will only make things worse. I shake my head rapidly as if the action will shake those thoughts loose and the motion causes an ache to swell at the base of my skull.
Maybe I should have made another coffee.
That, combined with the heat building in the classroom and the growing sensitivity I have to every single sound turns the seminar from an hour-long bore-fest into sensory hell. I can’t focus on the board, on the professor, not even on the paper in front of me and every second feels incredibly isolating when I glance around to see everyone else enthralled, Millie included.
Maybe I have this all wrong. The sickness, the headache and the heat… maybe I’m sick? Maybe I caught a chill from the rain last night and that’s the acceptable reason I’m feeling like garbage. I close my eyes and will the nausea away.
What seems like only a split second later, the bell screeches through the air and I jump in my chair with a squeal, eyes flying open. Millie bursts into laughter next to me and the class surges around us as students rise and move to the next class.
“Chantal, are you alright?” Millie asks, shoving her laptop into her bag.
I don’t have an answer.
“Think I’m getting my period,” I say lamely as I climb to unsteady feet and gather my things.
“Oh, the joys of being a woman.” Millie links arms with me the second I zip up my bag and I follow her lead into the busy hallway. “Let’s grab Starbucks before the next class, I’m starving.”
While the prospect of food makes my stomach churn, I can’t deny the nostalgic pull of simply falling into step next to Millie, so I agree with a soft noise.
If this is what it’ll take to get through the day then sure, but the prospect of running home is growing more appealing by the second.
It has to be sickness, I tell myself as we weave down the corridor.
Another lie I will desperately cling to.
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