2: Death Threat

Surely I was seeing things.

Was his cocky attitude haunting me now?

I shook my head hard but it didn't erase the fact that Art Wilson was one of my professors?

How on earth was he professor? He was only 28.

His eyes lingered on me for a second longer before he continued his lecture. His words mumbled into gibberish as all I could scream in my head was no...no...no.

I collected my things, and sprinted out of that class, not caring about the murmurs it stirred. I was probably deaf until I drove out of the campus.

*

I leaned my head against the steering wheel before drawing out a long sigh.

I undid my seatbelt, and clicked my tongue, rummaging through my bag for my spare keys.

Dawson lived in a condo downtown and I hated it whenever I had to come down here.

I was mid way through inserting the key in the hole when the white door swung open.

A strong hand wrapped around my wrist, forcefully yanking me inside.

"Jesus Christ, Dawson..." I groaned, rubbing my affected wrist after he'd slammed the door behind me.

"Talk," he snapped.

His curly hair looked like he'd ran his fingers through it multiple times, the veins popping out of his forehead and his reddened ears were enough for me to know he'd been cussing for the last hour at least.

His black shirt was stained, he had on two different pair of socks and his pyjamas pants kept dropping below his belt.

I clicked my tongue, leaning to touch his shoulders but he slapped my wrist away, "don't fucking touch me!" He raised his voice at me, "Red, you know me," his chest rose and fell at a crazy pace, "you know how paranoid I get but you still chose to ignore my fucking messages!"

"Dawson, I had to go to a class and..."

"Bullshit!"

Now I raised my voice as well, "It was obviously a conversation we needed to have in person and-"

"What did he say when you called it off?" He leaned in, panting as he said every word.

I crossed my hands across my chest, looking away.

He came to stand in front of me, "Red, answer me."

"Dawson, you and I, we both know my dad will never, ever agree to us being together," I started slowly, watching him go pale as he waited for me to finish.

"Even if I call this one off somehow, he'll find another way to get me married off, so I thought," I gestured with my hands, "if I found someone who was willing to be in a fake marriage with me, maybe you and I could-"

"You didn't call it off," his voice when soft in realisation.

He took a step back and I took one closer to him, "baby, listen I-"

"Don't fucking baby me!" He grabbed the vase next to the entrance, tossing it across the room.

I flinched, covering my ears after letting out a scream as the vase crashed against the wall.

My breathing pace increased, "Dawson!" I screamed in shock.

"Red, I'll only say this one time," his voice was lower now as he closed the distance between us, "tell me you called the marriage off like we planned you would."

I stared into his eyes with silence, shaking my head, "I can't, I just-"

I couldn't finish my sentence. I didn't understand it but I knew I lost my vision for a second, and it was accompanied by a deafening whistle that seemed to be coming from a distance.

It took a while but I realised he'd hit me with a slap.

When I reopened my eyes, his red ones were staring right into mine.

"Get out," he said softly but I stood still trying to process what just happened.

"I said fucking get out!"  He seemed to be raising his other hand and so I flinched, scrambling out of there in utter shock.

It wasn't until I got back in my car that I held my hand against my affected cheek. This was the first time in our relationship that he'd put his hands on me.

My hand was trembling and my head was spinning.

My phone beeped next to me. I sniffed and wiped the tears off with the back of my hand.

It was from Art Wilson.

*I have made my decision, drive up to 1703 road and I'll let you know what I think, meet me there at 9:00pm*

I laughed to myself, great, this is what I need to deal with now.

*

I pulled up to the rooftop bar right at nine. String lights hung everywhere and soft music played but I spotted Art leaning against the railing like he owned the view. That cocky smirk sat on his face the second he saw me. He was still in the same suit from earlier.

I rolled my eyes and walked straight over.

“So what a coincidence you happened to be one of the students in my class,” he said, closing the distance between us in two steps, "listen Ms Red, you had such a good offer, so good, how could one ever pass up on it," he started, and then nodded once, "but-"

I crossed my arms tight across my chest.

"I have a strict, no professor-student relationship and..."

"So you're calling it off?" I wanted to get straight to the point and then out of here.

"Think of it as a..." He trailed off, his eyebrows suddenly etching into a frown. His head tilted, “wait, why are you wearing sunglasses at night?”

Before I could turn away, his fingers caught my chin and lifted it so I could meet his gaze. He pulled the sunglasses off with his other hand. His eyes locked right on the swelling on my cheek. The smirk disappeared, his jaw tightened and his whole face went serious.

“Did your boyfriend do that to you?” His voice came out low and flat.

I stepped back fast and touched the spot on my cheek, “Dawson’s never done anything like that before okay? Never ever. He was just stressed because I ignored his texts and the whole marriage thing blew up. I kept pushing him and he snapped but he didn’t mean it. He’s a good guy, really. This was the first time and I know he feels horrible right now. I swear he’s never touched me like that before today. It’s my fault for not handling it better."

Art stared at me hard, his eyes felt like they were boring holes into my skin and then in a low voice he added, “I’m going to kill him.”