Page 7 of Deadly Sacrifice

Later in the week, as I’m carting myself between classes, I get a chill right down my spine. For the past three days, it’s like I can actually feel the weight of eyes on me everywhere I go. The sensation won’t leave me alone. Just as I’m starting to lose my freaking mind, I stop in the hall and scan the faces around me. Everyone is walking by, talking on the phone or laughing with a friend. No one is paying me any attention, but still, the uneasiness of being watched settles on me.

My chest grows tight, my breaths more labored than a moment ago. Instead of continuing down the hall to my next class, I dart sideways and into the bathroom. Except, in my panic, I made a grave mistake. Asher, from sign language, zips up his fly and casually moves to the sink to wash his hands, staring at me with a carefully blank face.

“Shit,” I breathe out, belatedly turning to leave the men’s restroom. I’m positive my cheeks, chest, and probably every other inch of me is a vibrant red.

“Wait,” he calls behind me, halting my steps with the command in his tone.

I swallow down my uncomfortableness and face him with a grimace, keeping my eyes firmly on his so I don’t look at the row of urinals along the wall. “I’m so sorry. Obviously, I don’t belong here, but I wasn’t paying any attention when I walked in,” I stammer.

Asher narrows his forest green eyes, tilting his head to the side while he pats his hands dry. “Do you not?” he asks cryptically.

“Not what?” I ask, mindlessly slipping my fingers beneath the hem of my sleeve to rub the scar on my wrist.

He steps forward, once and then twice, easily closing the distance between us with long strides. “Do you not belong here?” he clarifies in a deep voice, only a foot away from me and eating up all the free space in the room with his tall frame and squared shoulders.

“I’m sorry. I don’t follow,” I whisper.

“Something about you is so familiar,” he murmurs, reaching up as if he’s going to touch my face. I freeze, unable to move or speak. At the last second, just as I think he’s going to cup my cheek or something else equally absurd, his hand stops, hovering in the air between us. “Sorry,” he says, dropping his hand to his side with a soft, if not uncomfortable, laugh. But he doesn’t step away, keeping the distance between us almost nonexistent.

“It’s okay. I’m the one who invaded your privacy. But, uh, I’m gonna go to class now. I would say it’s nice running into you again, but really we should stop meeting like this.” I give him a tight smile before turning to leave again.

I grab the door handle and pull it open, taking a step out into the busy hallway when Asher comes up behind me and holds the door open wider. “Then let’s not meet like this again,” he says, grabbing my attention and offering a handsome smile. “Go out with me this weekend?”

“Oh, I’m not really interested in dating right now,” I say as an awkward blush builds beneath my skin again, for a totally different reason this time. Even if I were looking for romance, Asher isn’t the kind of guy I’d go for. Not that he’s not good looking, because Jesus God almighty, he is. He’s like a walking marble statue, the epitome of gentlemanly charm and masculine beauty. But I know his type. Too straight and narrow, too focused on making all the right moves. No, Asher won’t ever end up with a girl like me. He’s one of those boring assholes who’ll marry a petite, plastic housewife to look pretty on his arm at all their snotty high-society events.

Count me the fuck out.

“And besides,” I add after a beat when he stares at me without a word. “This weekend I’m moving into the A.Chi.O. house. So… busy.”

Asher’s brows creep up his forehead, a mixture of shock and amusement clear on his face. “I think you’re the first to ever turn me down. I also didn’t peg you as a sorority girl,” he teases, pointedly looking down my body and back up, clearly not impressed by my plain, oversized clothes. He shrugs and follows me out into the hall. “Friday night then, before you have to move Saturday,” he says as he walks with me. “Don’t consider it a date. Just think of it as a safety precaution. If we plan it, then we won’t have to keep running into each other unexpectedly on campus.”

I bite my cheek to hold in a laugh, shaking my head at him. “I’m not sure I follow your reasoning. We could still just as likely bump into each other once a week for the rest of the semester,” I point out with a half smile.

Asher pushes his hands into his pockets, nudging me with his shoulder. The action is comfortable, like something you’d do with a friend, not some girl who just walked into the wrong bathroom. “I wouldn’t mind,” he muses softly. “But even so, I’d still like to take you out.”

My lungs constrict and my feet falter on the shiny floor. I think about it, I swear. For all of five seconds, I consider telling this unnaturally handsome guy that I’d love to go out with him. Maybe we could meet in the middle. I’d bring some chaos into his life, and he’d bring some order into mine. Maybe we’d be good together.

I even envision how things would go. A first date, a soft kiss, a second date, then maybe a third. But then he’ll want more. He’ll want to undress me, see beneath my clothes, and touch me in places no one ever has. And maybe I’d let him. But maybe he’d see my mangled, angry scars and back out, leaving me naked and confused while he makes up every excuse in the book about why it’s just not going to work out.

So, instead of risking a lot by saying yes, I open my mouth and say, “I really can’t. I’m sorry.” And then, as Asher’s smile deflates into some mix of wounded pride and confusion, I turn and rush to class before the guilt and regret can eat me alive.

He follows me like a tenacious fucking puppy, and I feel ten times worse. He calls my name, sounding too close, and I prepare myself for the show I’ll have to put on, the bitch mask I’ll have to wear to get him to back off.

But then, as if he’s my guardian angel in a burning world, that big, intimidating guy from the first day of school turns the corner. His crisp, shocking blue eyes take in the scene in under ten seconds. Giving me a casual nod, he strides right past me, and I peer over my shoulder as he steps in front of Asher, tosses an arm over his shoulder, and starts guiding him in the opposite direction. Asher deflates, giving me a long, blank look, before turning his full attention to whatever his friend wants.

And just like that, I’m free. I could kiss that giant man. In fact, my steps falter, almost sending me back to his side to thank him. But I really doubt that would help my case with Asher. Instead, I slip around the corner and disappear into the busy hall.

Only two days left until the weekend. I need a break and some alone time to sort out my wild thoughts. College isn’t fun. It’s not how I expected it to be at all. My mom never talked much about her time here at B.U. so I had no clue what I was getting myself into.

Now look at me. Awkwardly turning down hot guys, reluctantly joining a sorority, and trying like hell to stay focused in all of my classes, while I do as much research and reading as I can during my free time so I can find some answers for questions that have haunted me for years. Questions my mom asked over and over. I only wish I hadn’t ignored her until now, because it feels like I’m playing catch up with a blindfold.

I don’t know where to start. I don’t even really know what I’m looking for. And I don’t know who I can trust to help.

I think it’s going to be a painfully long semester.

6

Prudence

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