Page 45 of The Obsession

“Aisha, wait—”

She hung up, and my phone screen went dark. I tried calling back several times, but each time, the call was rejected.

I flung my phone onto my bed and flopped down in front of the computer again. Thanks to Logan, my best friend was no longer talking to me. I massaged my temples. Admittedly, it didn’t sound that bad when I put it that way. In fact, it sounded trivial, ridiculously childish. I couldn’t even bring myself to feel too bad about it. Once I left for NUS, what were the chances Aisha and I would keep in touch?

The thought of that kept me from losing it and bursting into tears the rest of the night. Instead, I busied myself by doing work inventory. I went through everything carefully, making sure the spreadsheet was flawless before arranging our next deliveries. Lisa was going to be so pleased. By the end of it, I felt somewhat better. I was a hard worker, not brilliant, but scrupulous. I would be okay. I’d leave all of this behind, make new friends, build a brand-new life where no one knew me or this mess I called home.

In the morning, I grumpily got into Logan’s car and glared when he said, “Guess what?”

“It’s too early in the morning to play a guessing game with my blackmailer,” I snapped.

Logan laughed and started the car. “Not a morning person, I see. All right, well, I’m applying for early admission to NUS.”

I considered strangling him then and there. Already I could feel his neck muscles giving way under my fingers, hear the satisfying crack of his neck snapping.

Who was I kidding? I wouldn’t be able to pull it off. He was taller and stronger. He’d probably laugh and tell me to stop tickling him. Maybe I could stab him? If only I had the foresight to walk around with a knife on me. I looked at his handsome face and wondered if I could gouge out his eyes with my thumbs. I would relish the feel of his eyeballs squelching against my thumbs, hear his shrieks as I stabbed all the way through to his brains.

“It’ll be great,” he was saying as he drove. “Have you ever visited the campus? My mom said it’s really big, and very high-tech, of course.”

He said it all casually, in the tones one might say, “I’ll have a double cheeseburger, hold the pickles.”

“Your mom was there?” My head whirled. “What for?”

He gave me a smile that was condescending as hell. “Oh, Dee. You’ve forgotten? I told you before, she works at Duke, remember? She’s one of the people overseeing the Duke-NUS program. She’ll be able to put in a good word for us.”

A good word for us.I didn’t miss the little hint, that snide reminder: there will be a reward at the end, Dee, but only if you behave like a good little dog, only if there’s still an us at the end.

“Isn’t this great?” he said. “I mean, I can’t guarantee that we’ll get in, but every little bit helps, right? It is NUS, after all. Competition is tough.” He slid into a parking space smoothly. The move represented everything about Logan’s life. Everything he did went smoothly.

The rest of my life played before me like a silent movie, the scenes going clack-clack-clack. There I am with Logan, flying to Singapore. There we are, taking a cab to campus, fanning ourselves in a constant battle against the tropical weather. There I am, coming out of class, and there’s Logan, waiting outside for me, what a sweet boyfriend. There’s Logan, charming my Singaporean relatives. What a catch, they say, so handsome and sweet. There I am, begging Logan to let me go, to end this farce, and there he is, explaining to me kindly, slowly, like I am a child, that we are meant to be.

I felt it again, the out-of-body sensation that took over right before I tripped Brandon’s jack. Rage flooded through me. My hand shot out like a snake and grabbed Logan’s sleeve.

“No!” I cried. “Logan, this isn’t a game, okay? It’s my life! My fucking life!”

He looked shocked and more than a little hurt, like my outburst was a complete surprise. “Dee, you’re not thinking clearly—”

“Don’t tell me what to think! You’re not coming to Singapore with me, Logan. You’re not. I don’t love you, Logan. Get that through your head. In fact, I fucking hate you. I can’t stand looking at your face, knowing what you’ve done.”

He started to say something and stopped. The surprise melted away from his face and was replaced with something else. His mouth turned into a thin line, his jaw tightened. Beneath my hand, his arm muscles knotted, turned hard as granite. And suddenly, I was afraid.

Belatedly, I recalled what I’d read last night.An attempt to contradict the belief is likely to arouse an inappropriately strong emotional reaction, often with irritability and hostility.

“Dee, this is so disappointing,” he said, and there was no warmth in his voice. He looked at me like I was a broken toy. “You don’t mean that, do you?”

I snatched my hand back, or tried to anyway. Logan caught it and squeezed. Hard.

“Logan, you’re hurting me—”

He didn’t let go. “Why is it so difficult for you to get that we’re soul mates? I’m only trying to protect you. The world is so dangerous. I would do anything to keep you safe. Anything.”

I tasted fear, sharp and metallic. A familiar taste.

“If I can’t be around to protect you, I’d have to—well, I don’t know what I’d have to do. I can’t lose you, Dee. I’d have to save you from yourself.”

Bile boiled its way up my throat. “What do you mean, save me from myself?”

—arouse an inappropriately strong emotional reaction—

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