Chapter Three

Chapter Three
Satrun’s Day: January 10 Grael 19 : Cold Moon
“DRI,” his voice flowed like honey across her skin, and she hoped he didn’t notice that she’d forgotten to breathe. Adrienne looked up from her red scribble and stack of midterm papers. Jamar stood with his hands on the table, slumped toward her, his face only inches away from her mouth. She hated it when he did that—he made it difficult to think. She’d known he was there before he had even said her name; his scent had given him away. The cinnamon and laundry detergent that wafted gradually off of him she could place in a crowd of people. It always made her head spin. She couldn’t remember a time in the eight years that she had known him when he hadn’t smelled like that. She glanced back down at the stack of papers before her so she wouldn’t have to look into his amber eyes. “Your paper sucks,” she retorted, flipping through her red scribble to find his among the stack, giving herself time to breathe normally. He slumped into the chair opposite her and folded his arms.
He smirked to himself. She was exactly where he thought she would be—sitting cross legged in an overstuffed chair by a small table in the most unpopulated area of the university library. He wasn’t even sure if anyone else even knew it was there. She always hid here; it was the corner off a sharp turn at the end of the room where the bound newspapers were kept once they had been put on microfilm. He was still smirking when she pulled his paper out from underneath the others she was grading. “Christmas allusions in Hamlet?” she sneered, still not looking at him, this time because she was fully engaged in the horror that was his paper.
“Undoubtedly, Hamlet takes place at Christmas time, because, like in The Night Before Christmas, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse?” She looked up into his eyes, this time not flinching because she was too annoyed. He shifted in his chair and tapped on her tattered Shakespeare Anthology with the highlighter resting beside it. “Look at the conversation between Francisco and Bernardo in Act I. Scene I, verse 11:Not a mouse stirring.” She scanned his paper. “The ghost is a combination of Santa Claus and the Ghost of Christmas Past?” She still wasn’t looking at him. He bit his lip to keep from laughing. Instead, he took a deep breath. “Line 15: When yond same star that’s westward from the pole and line 45: the bell then beating one.” Adrienne rolled her eyes. “Like St Nicholas, originating from Lapland, Hamlet takes place in Norway? Why are you taking a three hundred level—“ She was cut off by his uncontainable laughter as it spilled across her skin like goose bumps. She kicked him underneath the table. “Bitch,” she retorted to his laughter, “where’s your real paper?” Jamar kept laughing. He took her pen and tapped the paper. “Did you actually grade the whole thing?” Adrienne kicked him again. “The whole dam thing,” she said between her teeth.
He reached across the table and lifted the stack of papers. “It’s at the bottom. I Loved You Once: The Ophelia Paradox.” Absentmindedly, he reached out to move the curls out of her right eye. She flinched, jerking her head away and revealing a blackened eye. His laughter turned off like a switch. “Sweet Jesus,” he whispered, suddenly horse. Adrienne moved away from the table and curled up in the chair. “I rolled over onto the bed side table. You know I can’t see out of that eye,” she mumbled. He stood abruptly. “You don’t have a bed side table,” he said lowly. Adrienne looked down at the floor. She wasn’t good at lying when put on the spot. “Besides, you were dodging me like you were dodging another blow.” “Just leave it,” she whispered. Jamar came around the table and kneeled on the floor so that he was eye level with her. He lifted her chin. “Let me see. When did he hit you? Last night?” She turned away. His hand dropped slowly onto her knee. “Dri, let me see.” She got up and pushed him aside. Gathering her papers and shoving them in her bag, she bolted out of the room.
Across the parking lot Adrienne broke into a run. She could smell him behind her, but she couldn’t out run him. She just needed to get to her car. Coming upon it suddenly, she braced herself against the Ford Taurus, breathing heavily. Jamar suddenly grasped her wrist and turned her around. Gently, he pulled her toward him. She kept her eyes shut and breathed, “Go away.” “I can’t go away, Adrienne. I have your phone.” Adrienne. She was never Adrienne, unless she was in deep shit. She opened her eyes and stared at his chest; she was eye level with it. Breathing deeply, all she could smell was him. She couldn’t think. He needed to go away so she could think. “Give me my phone, “ she panted. “Not until you tell me what happened.” She stared at his chest. “Then keep it,” she forced, breathing shallowly. Turning around, she got in the car, and drove away. Jamar stood dumbfounded, turning her phone around in his hand.
THE whole way to her apartment, Adrienne’s phone rang. It was ringing now as he stood outside her door. Jamar fought himself not to answer it. He’d knocked on the door several times, telling himself that she simply hadn’t heard. He ran his hand through the twists in his hair. The phone had stopped; he was looking down at it when she opened the door, partway at first, and then all the way. She breathed him in as he slipped past her and leaned against the wall.
She counted to herself as she shut the door, and slowly turned to face him. She reached for his hand. He reached past her arm and placed the phone in the back pocket of her jeans. Running his fingers back across her arm, he laced his fingers through hers and pulled her close. Adrienne buried her face in Jamar’s shirt, inhaling the cinnamon of his scent and feeling her head start to spin. He ran his fingers through her curls and rested his chin on her head. He felt her fall as her knees buckled, and she swayed into him. “Dri, baby, it’s ok,” he whispered into her hair. She stiffened and pulled herself away. “You should go,” came out in a breathy, half sob. Jamar ran his fingers over her lips. “What if I don’t want to?”