*Thomas Gilbert,* I thought. *I never realized you were such a talented actor.*
"You and Hazel—"
"Professor!" Hazel's voice rang out from the bathroom. "I got my collar wet! Do you have a hair dryer?"
Thomas turned on his heel instantly, his steps carrying an urgency he didn't even try to hide.
"I'll find it for you," he called out. "Dry off quickly—we can't have you catching a cold."
Suspicion gnawed at me. I followed them down the hall, my footsteps silent on the hardwood.
Outside the bathroom door, I heard words that made my blood run cold.
"Mr. Gilbert! How can I face anyone now? You tore it—you owe me!"
"If it's ruined, I'll give you one of Elise's."
"What if she finds out?"
"She has no family, no backing in this city. Even if she finds out, she wouldn't dare make a scene."
The noises from the bathroom mingled with the drone of the hair dryer—a cacophony that made my ears ring.
I didn't dare imagine what they were doing behind that frosted glass.
Even when we were most in love, he had never spoken to me with such raw, reckless desire.
When did he become this person?