Page 94 of Rear View
My lungs tightened. I had unequivocally no intention of calling, but I desperately wanted him to leave me alone, so I took it. “Thanks.” Pivoting on my heel, I immediately slipped on a patch of ice, landing hard on my knee.
“Are you alright, Miss Nolan?” Stan asked, edging forward.
Pain shot through my leg, and I winced. “I’m fine.” The slushy dampness soaked my jeans and coat. Myhands stung as I rolled to my side, then clambered to my feet. Stan watched me go, his stare intent as I hobbled away.
The psych building’s door clanked when I pushed inside, the heat hitting me while I swiped the slush from my jacket.
The stupid day hadbarely started, and I already needed it to be over. God, I wanted to see Xavier so badly, it hurt.
Gulping a ragged breath, I followed a string of students into the lecture hall. Professor Barlowe’s attention slid to me the second I crossed over.
“Ryah,” he said, then flicked a finger, summoning me to him where he stood near the lectern.
I limped as I approached, my throat dry. “Yes, Professor?”
He squared himself to me. “You didn’t answer my call Friday.”
Stand tall, Ryah. Stand. Tall.
“Respectfully, Professor, I thought my email was self-explanatory.”
“Your email said it was a personal matter.”
“Yes, sir. Personal. Something that has nothing to do with school.” And was absolutely none of his business.
He made a show of taking a slow inhale to steady himself, then linked his hands before him. “Like time with your race car driver?” His voice wasn’t hard, but the words struck, nonetheless.
My eyes widened, head slowly retreating. “I’m sorry?”
His stare slid to Christian and back, as if in explanation.
Wait, had Christiantoldon me? Like a goddamn toddler!
From the second Xavier had dropped me off the night before, things had gone from bad to worse. I’d spiraled into chaos, and dammit, I just wanted control.
“I’m not trying to chastise you, Ryah. I’m simply trying to help.”
Adrenaline pumped through my veins and my hands clenched while my nails dug into my skin. “I understand, Professor, but I’ve worked extremely hard for you. I do everything you ask, when you ask it. I took one weekend away for myself. I don’t think that’s out of line.”
“Ryah—”
“In the future, if you want me to attend our meetings, I kindly request you put them at a more reasonable hour,” I said, voice louder than I’d intended, but I wasn’t about to apologize.
Several students in the front rows of the hall squirmed in their seats, rifling with phones or books or pens as they pretended to be busy.
Barlowe’s brows lifted, and some emotion flickered in the recesses of his stare, but it was smothered before I could place it. His jaw ticked as he ground it. “I just need to know you’re taking this seriously, Ryah. You’re putting me in a precarious position here.”
I blinked my shock, my hands trembling as I forced myself to ask, “A precarious position?”
“I’ve attempted to be tactful, but your thesis simply isn’t ready yet. Your problem statement is poorly defined, the bibliography citations abysmal, your information badly represented and the defense weak. As it stands, the committee would tear you to pieces. Unless you fall in line, your paperwillbe laughed at.”
Speechless. I was speechless. Never in the two years we’d worked together had heeverindicated my workwas poor. I shook my head. “I appreciate your judgment, Professor, but at this point, I think I may need to seek a second opinion.”
He tipped his chin up. “I’ll message you after class with another meeting time. We can discuss this further then.” He pointed toward the desk next to Christian. “Please, take your seat.”
My fists clenched tighter as I left and did as he said. Setting myself down, I unbuttoned my sopping coat, and sagged at the sight of the bloody stain on my pant leg.
“What wasthatabout?” Christian asked.
