Chapter 3 : “A Cafeteria Nightmare”

The clamor of the university cafeteria swirled around me like a storm. The air was thick with the scent of brewed coffee and the tang of disinfectant, battling against each other in an olfactory war.

I finished browsing for locksmiths in the vicinity before I spotted Lizzie sitting at a table, her auburn hair catching the light like strands of fire.

"Roanne!" Her voice cut through the din, warm as a summer breeze.

"Hey, Lizzie!" I replied, the affection I felt for her bubbling up in my chest and spilling over into a wide smile. I hugged her tightly and immediately slid into the chair opposite her, the metal cool beneath my fingers.

"Tell me everything," she urged, leaning forward, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest. "How was your first day back?"

I hesitated for a moment, relishing the anticipation that tingled on my tongue. "It was... intense," I began, my mind flickering to what happened last night.

Around us, the symphony of student life continued—laughter punctuating the air, forks scraping against plates, snippets of excited conversation about new classes and old friends. In this web of youthful vigor, I found both solace and determination.

Lizzie's hand reached across the table, her touch solid and reassuring. "Intense is good, nothing you should worry about. We live for intense moments. And I am here with you to live them with you."

And in that simple gesture, the chaos of the cafeteria seemed to quiet. Lizzie's eyes held a spark of curiosity as she leaned in, her voice a gentle hum amidst the cacophony of the cafeteria.

Our conversation ebbed and flowed, a dance of words and laughter, until a shadow fell over Lizzie's face. "I'm sorry I missed your first day here," she said, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "My car decided to throw a tantrum—engine trouble. And the mechanic was less than cooperative. We had a bit of a... heated exchange."

"Sounds frustrating," I replied, sympathy lacing my tone. "But you're here now, and that's what matters."

I reached out, squeezing her hand in silent solidarity, when a shift occurred—a sudden drop in the temperature of my soul. My hand retracted as if burned, and my eyes darted across the room to find the source of this invisible chill.

There he was, Sebastian Weber, threading his way through the crowded space, each step measured, entitled. A surge of anger twisted my insides, the memory of last night's party igniting like a match against the tender flesh of my heart. His presence alone was enough to shatter the fragile peace I had built around myself.

"Roanne?" Lizzie's voice cut through the thickening fog of my discomfort. She followed the trajectory of my glare, her own features hardening at the sight of him. "That bastard," she muttered under her breath, her hands balling into fists.

"Last night, at the party..." I began, my voice a mere whisper, betraying the storm within. "He was there, all arrogance and smirks. Like he owns the world and everyone in it."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, the muscles in her jaw working silently. The air between us crackled with shared revulsion, a bond forged in the crucible of our experiences with men like Sebastian.

"Let's not let him take any more from us," Lizzie said, her words slicing through the tension. "We are more than what they made us feel."

The lingering taste of injustice sat bitter on my tongue, a reminder of the battles we had yet to fight.

"Roanne, look at me," Lizzie's voice was a lifeline in the tempest of my anger. I tore my gaze away from Sebastian, focusing on her earnest eyes. "You don't have to let him ruin this moment. He's not worth it."

Her words were rational, a cool compress against the fevered skin of my rage. Yet, as I watched him navigate the sea of tables with the arrogance of a king in his court, the urge to stand up, to confront that smug entitlement, thundered through my veins.

"Easy for you to say," I murmured, my knuckles white as they gripped the edge of the table.

"Ro, remember why we're here," she implored, her hand reaching out to cover mine, her touch grounding. "For our future, not for him."

I felt the pull of her logic, the part of me that longed for justice warring with the desire to reclaim my power, to erase the smirk from Sebastian's face once and for all. But Lizzie was right; our goals were higher than the squalor of his influence.

"Fine," I exhaled, releasing the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. My fingers relaxed beneath hers, surrendering to the calm she offered.

Sebastian, ignorant of the storm he'd stirred within me, continued his promenade. The confident stride of his leather shoes against the tile echoed like a drumbeat, each step measured and weighted with an air of superiority. His laughter reached my ears, rich and assured, as if the world was privy to his own private joke. It was the sound of privilege, of unearned victories and unpunished sins—a cacophony that resonated with every fiber of my being.

The sight of him aroused a primal dissonance, a dance of attraction and repulsion. His form, tall and athletic, was a sculpture of masculine beauty, his broad shoulders cutting a sharp silhouette against the fluorescent light.

His hair, the color of dark caramel, fell effortlessly across his brow, framing a devilishly handsome face. But it was his smile that held a dangerous allure, the kind that promised sin and whispered secrets behind closed doors. It was a smile that had once bewitched me, that had drawn me into a labyrinth of desire and darkness from which I was still fighting to escape.

"Let's just eat," I said to Lizzie, forcing my voice steady, even as my insides churned with conflicting emotions. Her presence was my anchor, her resolve becoming my own.

"Agreed," she replied, her tone laced with the steel of her convictions. And together, amidst the din of the cafeteria and the shadow Sebastian cast, we turned our attention back to the simple act of living, one defiant bite at a time.

I was still reeling, the taste of defiance bitter on my tongue, when he walked in. Aaron, cloaked in that same aura of casual confidence that seemed to be the uniform of Sebastian's entourage. His presence was like a sudden drop in pressure before a storm—ominous, foreboding.

"Hey Weber," Aaron said, his voice echoing over the din of the cafeteria.

Sebastian turned, the smug smile never faltering, as if he'd anticipated the arrival of his comrade. "Aaron, my man," he replied, clapping a hand on Aaron's shoulder with a familiarity that spoke volumes of their shared creed—the brotherhood of privilege.

"Killed it on the ice today, didn't you?" Aaron smiled, his admiration for Sebastian bordering on reverence, the worship of a disciple to his deity.

"Like there was ever any doubt," Sebastian boasted, and they shared a laugh, a conspiratorial sound that sent shivers down my spine.

I watched, feeling that invisible thread that still tethered me to him pull taut with a visceral snap. My heart thrummed against my chest.

"Ro," Lizzie murmured, her eyes darting between them and me with concern creasing her brow. "Don't do this to yourself."

But how could I not? The sight of them together, the ease of their laughter, it was a mockery of justice, a sneer at the very concept of consequence. They were untouchable in their ivory tower, shielded by their status, while I was left exposed, raw, grappling with shadows they cast without a second thought.

"Should've seen the look on their faces," another man was saying, animated with the thrill of their shared victories. "We're unstoppable, Seb."

"Damn straight," Sebastian agreed, his gaze sweeping the room, sovereign of all he surveyed—until his eyes found mine. That smile of his, sharp as a knife's edge, cut across the distance, promising a pain far more intimate than any physical wound.

"Excuse me," I whispered, pushing back from the table, my chair scraping harshly against the floor.

"Roanne, wait," Lizzie reached out, but I was already moving, propelled by a force I couldn't contain. I had to get away, to breathe air unsullied by his presence.

"Where you off to in such a hurry?" Sebastian's voice carried, tinged with something dark and taunting.

"None of your damn business," I spat back without turning, every step a battle to keep my composure from fracturing.

"Touchy," I heard Sebastian drawl, amusement lacing his tone.

The laughter that followed was like acid on my skin, burning through layers of self-assurance until I was nothing but raw nerve endings and rage. How dare they stand there, basking in the glow of their egos, while I was left to pick up the pieces of myself in the aftermath of their cruelty?

"Roanne!" Lizzie's voice broke through my haze, her hand catching my arm, grounding me.

"Let's just go," I choked out, the words barely a whisper.

Together, we fled the scene, leaving behind the laughter, the injustice, the darkness that lurked beneath the surface of their polished exteriors. And with each step, I vowed to myself that this was not the end.

"Roanne, hey, breathe." Lizzie's voice was a lifeline thrown across the churning sea of my thoughts. "Don't let him get to you."

I blinked, refocusing on her concerned gaze. The cafeteria hummed around us, a hive of oblivious students, but in that moment, it was just the two of us in the eye of the storm.

"Easy for you to say," I murmured, my chest tight as I watched Sebastian's retreating back. The way his muscles shifted beneath the fabric of his shirt—the same back I once traced my fingers down in moments stolen by moonlight—now held only the memory of pain.

"Look at me," she commanded gently. Her hand was warm against mine, an anchor amidst the tempest. "This campus is vast, Roanne. We can navigate our days without crossing paths with those... those jerks."

"Like plotting a course through a maze," I said, attempting a smile that felt more like a grimace. "Avoiding the minotaur lurking around every corner."

"Exactly," Lizzie chuckled softly, squeezing my hand. "And besides, we're smarter than they are. We know how to stay hidden in plain sight."

I nodded, the edges of my anger beginning to dull. She was right; there were countless buildings, gardens, and secret nooks that Sebastian and Aaron likely knew nothing about. Places where knowledge was revered over brawn.

"Let's focus on what matters," Lizzie continued. "Your classes, our plans, and—" She paused, a mischievous spark lighting up her eyes, "—the impossibly hot Professor Nichols."

I couldn't help it; I laughed, the sound mingling with the clatter of dishes and the buzz of conversation—a melody of normalcy.

"Professor Nichols, huh?" I teased back, feeling the tension ebb away like a wave receding from the shore. "Should I be worried about your intentions? Who is that by the way?"

"Maybe, and you will get to know him, he is amazing, he is on a trip but he will come back in a month," she winked conspiratorially. "But for now, let's eat. I'm starving, and this quinoa salad isn't going to devour itself."

"Quinoa salad," I echoed, my appetite returning as I looked down at my plate. It was a small victory, reclaiming the desire to nourish myself in the aftermath of confrontation.

"Thank you," I said, meeting Lizzie's gaze. "For being here, for... everything."

"Always," she replied firmly. "Now, eat up. You'll need your strength."

And so, with a deep breath that filled my lungs with resolve, I picked up my fork. The metal was cool against my skin, a sensation that grounded me back to the present. With each bite, I could feel myself coming back to life, the darkness that had threatened to consume me receding as I allowed the simple act of lunch with my best friend to heal the fractures in my spirit.