Page 96 of The Right Kind of Wrong

“I'm, uh, actually waiting for someone,” I explained. Professor Lanthorn raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Is it him by any chance?”

He gestured across the cafeteria were Nathan stood speaking on his phone, a serious expression on his face.

“Yeah, it's him.”

Nathan walked over to us and I just couldn't decipher what was happening. He didn't look like himself; he smiled but it seemed forced. Unnatural.

“Hey,” I said with a smile.

“Hey,” Nathan said. He greeted Professor Lanthorn with a single nod.

“Maxwell, right?”

“Right,” Nathan said.

“Congratulations on your nomination for head of the art department. Big step.”

I looked between both men in confusion. “Head of the department?”

“Yeah,” Nathan pressed his lips together. “Thank you.”

My professor grimaced, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. “All right, I guess I just said something I shouldn't have said so I'm getting out of here.”

“It's okay,” Nathan said. “Have a good evening.”

He nodded, walking away while Nathan and I turned in the opposite direction, out the doors and in search for his car. Not making any attempt for conversation, we drove to the house in complete silence. It was tense.

Threatening.

Dangerous.

“So you got nominated for head of the department?” I asked, smiling warmly.

Nathan nodded without looking my way.

“That's good,” I said. “I mean, I can see why you'd be frustrated considering our thoughts to move to New York City, but we don't have to. If you want to take the job here I don't mind staying.”

We stopped at a red light and he finally turned around, his gaze softening and his lips tilting up to a small smile. It didn't meet his eyes.

“No, it's not that, Evie.”

I frowned. “What is it then?”

Nathan swallowed, taking my hand in his and caressing the back of it with his thumb. “Let's get to the house first, okay?”

The drive couldn't have gone by faster. It took too long, the anxiety was eating me up. As terrified as I was, I needed to know what was going on.

If Nathan wanted to stay, I didn't mind. I'd gladly stay with him if that was he wanted. Something told me that whatever was on his mind was more serious than that and I dreaded it.

When we arrived at the house he guided me in, placing his hand on the small of my back. We walked inside and as soon as we were there, he set his briefcase down and ran a hand over his face. He looked so tired.

“What's wrong?” I asked him softly, placing a hand on his cheek.

He pressed his lips together, eyes roaming my face slowly as if memorizing my features, memorizing the way I was looking at him.

He knew I wouldn't look at him the same after that.

Placing a hand over the one I had on his cheek, he squeezed it, moving it away from his face and placing it to my side so that I wasn't touching him. I frowned, confused.

Finally, he cleared his throat and shook his head. “Listen, Evelyn, there's no easy way to say this but I uh, I think we need a break.”

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