Gaslighter

24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

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2018

          Having Chase and Ingrid talk about me was the worst possible scenario.

          I didn't care about the content of their conversation, not when its mere existence had immediately raised several red flags in my head, but I knew it couldn't be good. The only connection between the two of them was me and, with Ingrid saying that's what they had been talking about until Savannah and I interrupted them, I had to brace myself for whatever was coming.

          I'd been careful. I knew I had, and I had steered away from Chase on campus as much as it was physically possible, so whatever they had been talking about in regard to me couldn't realistically be my fault. Naturally, I could be grossly overrating myself and assuming I could do no wrong just because I thought I'd been on my best behavior lately, and Ingrid had a knack to read between the lines and see things most people never noticed. That made her incredibly dangerous, and a credible threat.

          When I glanced at Chase, searching for the bright blue of his eyes, I barely saw a semblance of recognition in them, like he was holding back in case Ingrid and Savannah would notice any traces of complicity between the two of us, and part of me was secretly giddy and excited to have a secret neither of them knew about.

          That was the thing about secrets; it was absolutely exhilarating to know you held knowledge only another person in the whole universe shared, your partner, but there was always that nagging feeling that one day the thrill would subside. Someone was bound to get tired of the isolation, and the only thing you could do was hope and pray that you'd survive until it was safe, falling to your knees in empty rooms.

          As I stared at them, both so impossibly and unfairly beautiful it was painful to even be in the same vicinity as them, I attempted to remember whether they'd previously interacted with one another with me being involved, but the search results came out mostly blank. I couldn't remember if they'd said two words to each other on the night of the frat party, before or after I got out of the hospital, and that was the only thing that came to mind. Should I really be self-centered to the point of believing I could be a topic of conversation between them?

          "Don't worry, we weren't saying anything bad about you," Ingrid said, ever the jokester. I wanted to believe at least someone there sensed my discomfort, with Savannah tightening the hold on my arm and pulling me closer to her, but I'd learned not to take any chances. If anything, people cared whenever there was something in it for them. "I was just pointing out that the last time we all were in the same space together, everyone was panicking, and it's a pretty chill night tonight. Things really do change around here, don't they?"

          "I don't think it's appropriate to be discussing that night with a professor," Savannah pointed out, purposefully avoiding looking Chase's way. When she finally did so, she dramatically lowered the volume of her voice like we were insiders in the same conspiracy, like my literal partner wasn't present. "This feels a bit awkward. This is awkward, isn't it?"

          "Please." Ingrid tucked a lock of platinum hair behind her ear. Her silver piercings glistened under the blinding lights. "He's fine. Right, Doc?"

          "Right," Chase dryly replied, accepting the cocktail the hired bartender handed him from the other side of the bar. I'd recognize a Manhattan cocktail anywhere by then, and Ingrid's eyes darted towards the glass in his hand as soon as she saw me do the same, while I prayed my face didn't reflect the panic swimming in my head. After the conversation we had in that apartment, the worst thing she could do was connect the dots, regardless of how many people in the world drank Manhattans. "If you'll excuse me."