Page 95 of Liminal
“Wait! I want to stay with you.”
My head, already turned in the direction of the door, whips back around. “What?”
“You shouldn’t have to be alone.” He’s grabbing a towel, already in pursuit. “Every night. I’m too late to do anything to stop it, but you don’t have to be alone.”
He slips a little on the wet floor, thoughtfully choosing to hop over my discarded clothes rather than simply walking through them.
Perhaps the well-adjusted thing to do would be to remain, to talk it out, and turn him down gently.
But his approach is the final straw for my already active flight response.
Closing my eyes against the emotions bombarding me, I flee.
Twenty-Seven
Kyrith
That night, I’m slower to rise from the Vault than usual. Part of me expects a repeat of before, with all five of them staring down at me. I don’t have the energy for that kind of confrontation.
Mercifully, I’m wrong.
So why do I feel so alone as I gather myself and drift back to work?
The lingering feeling doesn’t dissipate, even when the students begin filing in for Hopkinson’s lesson later in the day, so perhaps that’s why I choose to take a seat at the back rather than hiding in the rafters or avoiding the room as I normally do.
The Falstaffian professor grins widely when he notices me, abandoning his tinkering with the projector to approach me.
“Librarian!” He greets me like an old friend, and I relax a little. “I’m so glad you’ve joined us. We’re covering…”
He continues speaking, but my eyes are glued to the trio who’ve just walked into the room. Lambert and Leo scan the place, both drawing up short as they spot me. Lambert’s smiledoesn’t ebb as he waves without removing his arm from around the shoulders of the girl plastered against his side.
If memory serves, her name is Poppy, and she’s a liminal distantly descended from the Carltons. Right now, she’s gazing up at him like he’s the sun, because of course she is. It’s so easy to get drawn in by him. Although his hand isn’t straying to the curve of her ass or the flawless swells of her generous chest; he’d have to be blind not to notice them.
Her skin is a flawlessalivebrown that speaks of warmth and comfort in a way my blue-grey chill never will. Her multitude of braids are neat and pin-straight across her scalp, while mine is still the mess it was from my death struggles.
Comparing myself to her is futile, but it doesn’t stop me. I find myself wondering idly who she is. If they’re just friends or something more. Does Lambert have other tutors, and is her affection as convenient as mine in getting him what he wants? Or has he chosen her for her company, because she’s as much the sun as he is?
They’re a beautiful couple, so I’m not sure why them being together is a shock. Lambert is always surrounded by women, and I’ve never cared. Not until…
Not until he looked at me like I was real. Like I was an object of desire rather than simply an object. Not until I watched him come undone at the sight of me.
Did he…? Is this revenge for how I fled afterwards?
No. Lambert isn’t malicious. That much I know for certain. This is just who he is, relaxed, charming, and careless. If I expected differently, then I was shortsighted and foolish.
All the nerves I’ve been ignoring at the thought of seeing him again after last night slink away, replaced with self-reproach.
Hopkinson is completely oblivious, too caught up in what he’s saying to notice that my attention isn’t on him, as it shouldbe. It’s only the change in his tone, from excited to questioning, that drags my eyes away from the parting squeeze he gives her.
“So would you be happy to discuss it?”
“Of course,” I agree hastily, unwilling to show how affected I am as the brunette smiles at Lambert like they share a secret, then hurries off to a group of her waiting friends.
Leo and Lambert head to their normal table, which is being unsubtly inched towards my seat by the Arcanaeum as we speak.
Thankfully, Hopkinson hasn’t noticed that. He’s too busy beaming in satisfaction.
Magic, what have I signed myself up for now?
