Chapter Twenty-Eight

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"How did you know where to find me?"

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"How did you know where to find me?"

The plane had taken off about fifteen minutes ago and we were officially on our way back to Winnipeg. The sky outside my window was pitch black, as if my mood was responsible for giving it its pigment.

Angela, who was sitting in the seat next to me, shrugged.

"Because I know you, Camille," she said, shooting me a look. "And I knew you'd want to confront Taylor to ask him if it was true."

I winced.

"Angela, it wasn't that I didn't believe you..."

"I know," she smiled sadly. "You just didn't want to believe me."

That was an understatement.

"Yeah," I murmured, glancing down at my hands, which were folded on my lap.

"Before we left I had asked Lawson for the address to Taylor's apartment. Wanna know something crazy? I actually left the convention centre at the same time you did. In fact, I took an Uber and ended up getting there first. I was just sitting there in the lobby with a newspaper in front of my face and I saw you walk in."

Despite the way I was feeling—really shitty, in case you didn't know—the image made me smile. It was such an Angela thing, to add a dramatic flair to everything.

"I can totally see you like that."

"But thank god you didn't. Seriously, though, what were you thinking walking?"

I shrugged but the small movement ached. Great. After my stomach decided to expel itself in Taylor's sink, the nausea subsided, only to be replaced with a budding headache and sore muscles. The sorest of all were in my lower back. I'd bet money that by the time I arrived home, I'd have a red stain on my underwear.

"I thought it would be good to help clear my head."

"Camille, it was freezing out!"

She was right. About two minutes into the walk I was regretting my transportation method.

"Alright folks," Dr. Greystein said, twisting her body around so that she could face her students. "I was really impressed with the way you all carried yourselves today. I hope you all enjoyed the convention. Even though I'm sure you guys are all exhausted—I know I am—there's one more activity I have for you guys. I'm going to hand around a copy of a short survey, asking for your feedback about the day. It'll be anonymous, of course, so please answer honestly."

Angela looked at me.

"Want me to fill in yours for you?"

That would be wonderful, actually. I barely paid attention all day, so I wasn't sure how helpful my responses would be. Honestly, though, I just didn't have any energy, desire, or brain power to dedicate to the task.

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