“Look, Rachel,” he says, “I do believe you, but… it doesn’t matter. We’re wrong for each other. For starters, I’m your professor, and I’m also a lot older than you. Maybe we had some fun together, but that’s it.”
“It was a lot more than that for me,” I whisper.
Matt pulls a tissue from a box on his desk and gently wipes my cheeks. The gesture is so tender that I start to cry harder.
“Yeah,” he says, “it was more than that for me too.”
It probably can’t ever “work out” with Matt, but I don’t care anymore. I just want to be with him right now—that’s all that matters. I stand up and fall into his arms, and he clings to me like he’s missed me as much as I missed him. When we kiss, I realize I can’t bear to ever be apart from him again.
“Matt,” I murmur, “I do love you. I really do.”
“I love you too, Rach,” he says, and I remember how much it hurt when I thought I’d never hear those words ever again.
That’s when we hear a knock at the door.
“Shit,” Matt mutters. He looks at the door, willing the person to go away. No such luck—there’s a second, more urgent knock. “Shit,” he says again. Then louder, “Who’s there?”
The student behind the door calls out his name, and my stomach clenches. What the hell ishedoing here in the middle of the night on a Saturday?
“I’ll get rid of him,” Matt promises. He runs his hand through his short black hair to comb it out slightly. “Although it probably wouldn’t look too good for you to be seen here, huh?” He glancesaround his office, “Do you think you can make yourself out of sight for a few minutes?”
I scan the room.
“The desk,” I say. I approach Matt’s large mahogany desk and lower myself onto my knees. My body fits perfectly into the nook underneath the desk, and I’m completely undetectable. Well, as long as nobody’s looking for me.
The floor of Matt’s office is cold and hard, tiled with off-white squares. Many of the other offices have carpeting, but Matt told me he’s worried about snagging his foot. The bones of my hips dig uncomfortably into the floor as Matt opens the door. I shift, hoping Matt will get rid of the intruder quickly.
The door slams closed, and Matt slides into his chair, being careful not to ram into me in my hiding place. I strain to listen, but the desk is somehow filtering out the sounds. I can only make out hushed voices.
“Is that the excuse you’re using?” my classmate says.
I perk up my ears, trying to hear what’s going on, when a fist slams into the thick wood of the desk above me. I nearly jump out of my skin, and I hug my knees to my chest. What the hell is happening up there?
I tug on Matt’s pants, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. I have no idea what to do. I want to come out, but that would look really suspicious. It’s bad enough I’m in Matt’s office late on a Saturday night, but I don’t think I could explain why I’d be hiding under the desk. I can’t. If I come out, we’re so busted.
“Tell me how you killed him!”
I can just barely make out the words, but that’s what it sounds like. Except that makes no sense. Matt didn’t kill anyone—that I know for a fact. I must have heard him wrong.
That’s when I hear the most terrifying sound I’ve ever heard in my life: a soft click.
I don’t know what it is, but I’ve never heard anything quite like it. And suddenly, I know with absolute certainty that there’s something terrible going on in this room.
55
Something terrible is happeningin this room. I might be hiding under the desk, but I’m sure of it.
I feel in my pocket for my phone, figuring I can text 911. But then I realize I left my phone back in the library. It’s lying inside my backpack right now, useless.
I’ve got to come out. Whatever is going on, I’ve got to stop it.
Except then Matt’s left hand snakes down underneath the desk. He’s making some kind of sign at me. He’s pointing emphatically at the ground. He wants me to stay hidden.
Okay, one more minute. One more minute and I’m coming out.
Just when I can’t stand it another second, I hear Matt’s sorrowful voice, loud and clear.
“I’m really sorry,” he says.
