Color had seeped from his already pale skin. His lips were cracked, and they quivered when he ran his tongue across them in worry. He was a delicate thing, glass-blown and fragile. I worried if I blinked too hard or breathed too heavily, he’d shatter at my feet.
The thought was a kick to the gut, so strong and unexpected it left me breathless.
Sebastian made a meek sound, one that only intensified my abrupt compulsion to wrap him in safety.
It was… unsettling.
I’d been a psychologist for nearly a decade, and though I’d always possessed a certain degree of care for my patients, I’d never felt captivated by one like I did Sebastian. Perhaps it was his mystery, or all the lies he seemed to be tangled in. Fact and fiction weren’t synonymous, but in regards to Sebastian’s file, I couldn't tell which was which.
The door burst open with a loud creak, and Sebastian nearly crawled from his skin. Headmaster Arthur St. James stood in the threshold, his oversized shadow eating half of the room. I recognized him from the portrait hanging in the foyer. His smile then was just as phony as it was now.
“Headmaster.” I stood. “How can I help you?”
He clasped his hands in front of him, eyes thin as they pointed in the direction of his son and then back to me. “May I speak with you privately for a moment?”
“Certainly.”
I glanced at Sebastian as I rounded my desk, noting his stillness, and that he hadn’t so much astwitchedsince his father stepped into the room.
I followed him into the hallway and pulled the door shut with a soft click. “What can I do for you, sir?”
He thrust his hand at my chest, and I noticed the thick gold rings he had wrapped around each of his fingers. “I’d like to introduce myself. I’m sorry I couldn’t be present at your interview but the board had wonderful things to say about you.”
I returned his handshake. “Thank you.”
“I’d apologize for the abrupt timeline but chaos has become a rather pertinent part of Ridgemont’s brand.”
“It’s not a problem.”
Ten days separated the day I’d gotten the job and the start of the new semester. The thick of the transition occurred just after Christmas, and I’d fallen under the impression that Ridgemont always operated at a breakneck speed.
He released my hand. “I understand you have a military background?”
“Yes, sir. I was a military psychologist for about eight years. Enlisted for three years prior.”
“This is quite the change in scenery. May I ask what prompted the change?”
I folded my arms across my chest. “I think a change in scenery was just what I needed, sir.”
“I see.” His eyes were curious as they pursued me, narrowing with every passing second. Disapproval was laced in his slow blinks and dotted throughout his counterfeit smile. “Mr. Hayes, the staff here has sort of an unofficial dress code.”
A wave of arrogance tunneled between us when he lifted his chin, as though he expected me to preen over the tie around his neck and the cufflinks at his wrists.
“I’m sure you can understand how difficult it might be for some of our students to feel comfortable opening up to an authority figure. Dressing casually is a small but effective way in showing my patients that I’m just as human as they are.”
His tongue made a clicking sound. “I see. Well, I suppose you’re the expert, though your experience is limited to a rather specific field.”
It was a struggle not to roll my eyes.
This man was a toxic mixture of cleverness and deviousness. He coated his insults in a layer of sugar that made them seem as though they were simple, passive comments.Complimentseven.
Unfortunately for him, I was somewhat of an expert on reading between the lines, and I knew the difference between when someone was being genuine and when they were just fake as fuck.
“I would hardly call my experience limited. I’ve worked with hundreds of patients, sir, and I’m sure you can recognize how no two patients will process and react to trauma in the same manner.”
“Of course. I didn’t mean to imply you were unqualified.”
Didn’t he, though?