Page 48 of Hunt Me

God,I’m so glad the day is over. It’s not that I hate being on campus, but the days I have both morning and night classes are the longest. It’s pointless to go home, so I spend half the day in my office trying to keep myself occupied, usually fed on Mellie’s sandwiches, which wreak havoc on my guts after too long, and half-bored out of my mind because I’d rather be anywhere else.

Teaching isn’t a bad job. I enjoy watching students learn my language. Seeing their eyes light up with recognition, little light bulbs flickering above their heads. It makes me feel a little more seen and a little less alone in the world when people who have no connection to the Deaf community embrace it. I hold a slight twinge of bitterness that my parents refused to provide that connection for me when I was young, but I like knowing it’s different for other people.

That life will be less lonely for them.

It’s a similar feeling to when I perform. It’s another community that understands me in ways most people don’t. It’s a place where I can feel safe to be entirely myself, and it’s healed some of the battered, bruised parts of me that were tender for so long.

I let out a huff as the last student files out of my final evening class, pulling my bag across my shoulder. This semester, I’m not teaching any overload classes. Instead, I’m focusing more on my drag shows and letting myself live a little. Next spring, it’s my turn to be the department chair of modern languages, and I’m dreading it.

One more year before all the extra responsibilities, and while that wasn’t such a heavy weight before, now that I have Archie, I’m starting to wonder if this is the path I really want to be on. I don’t want to leave my job, but I also don’t want to lose myself in work when I could be losing myself in him.

Which is maybe ridiculous since I don’t even know what we are, but I can’t help myself. Every time his face flashes behind my eyelids, I can’t help but want a future with him.

Locking the classroom door, I head outside and take a deep breath of the cool evening breeze. It’s cloudy today, rain in the forecast. It’s my favorite kind of weather, though I wish I could be sharing it with Archie.

I hated leaving him behind. I wonder what he’s doing now. It’s possible he’s still sleeping, but it’s more likely he’s woken up and followed me to campus. He could very easily be lurking in the shadows, watching me, and I’d have no idea.

I glance around, but in the dim yellow lamplight, I don’t see him. Stalking seems to be in his blood, like he was born for it. Hunting me was probably the most natural I’ve seen him, and that should terrify me, especially after everything I’ve been through. But something about him is different. I don’t know why, but it’s something I’m coming to accept.

Reaching into my pocket, I grab my phone out and stare at the time. I have my student meeting, but that’s three hours from now, and there’s not a chance in hell I want to spend that time in my little closet-sized office, staring at my desk, willing myself not to overspend on high heels.

I have plenty, and I only ever wear them for shows. At some point, if I’m not careful, I’m going to miss a mortgage payment because a pair of Louboutins caught my eye.

A small part of me wants to take a drive toward the large cemetery and see if Archie’s having a frolic amongst the graves again, but I decide against that too. The rain clouds are covering most of the sunset, and I’m not sure I’m brave enough to face a bunch of ghosts by myself.

In all honesty, what I’d like is to go back to Archie’s and crawl back into the bed with him. I have no idea what he’s done all day while I was teaching, but I’m pretty sure he’s not here. I like to believe I’d know if he were hovering somewhere nearby, but the nearly empty parking lot feels more silent than usual. Something about it is disturbing, which is odd because I’ve never felt like this on campus before.

Maybe it’s because I know more now about what lurks around the corners people can’t see. Or maybe it’s because I know my stalker’s still probably out there, and being alone like this makes me feel unsafe. Whatever the case, I need to find something to do that isn’t standing out here, twiddling my thumbs like a dipshit.

I take a breath, then decide my only real option is to walk down the block to the library and lose myself in microfiche for a few hours before my meeting. It’s the best way to kill time, it inspires my shows, and it gives me literally anything else to focus on except the eerie feeling the empty campus is starting to give me.

I open my phone screen again and tap on my CI app to check the battery levels. They’re…not great, and I don’t have my charger on me. But the fact that it’s raining is going to make hearing more difficult anyway, so I stow them in their case and open my umbrella, stepping into the rain to head down the street.

I’m only half-soaked when the library comes into view, and just inside the lobby, I see the little coffee cart kiosk is closed. It sucks because I could really do with a bunch of caffeine and something to warm me up.

Still, it’s nicer in here, and the air is still and quiet, which soothes my nerves a bit as I approach the desk. I’ve seen the woman behind the computer a couple of times, but she’s not usually the one who handles check-ins, so I brace myself for an awkward conversation.

“Hi.” I don’t love speaking when I can’t hear it. The sensation is strange, the vibrations of my voice like pressure in my head, which is wildly uncomfortable.

She blinks up at me. “Can I help you?” I read off her lips.

“I’d like to check in for microfiche access. I’m a professor here.” I dig into my pocket and snag my badge clip so I can show her my ID.

She looks at it, then turns in her chair as she speaks, which means I catch absolutely nothing of what she says.

Clearing my throat, I wait for her to look back at me, which she does, her eyes narrowed in irritation.

“Sorry. I’m Deaf, so I need to see your lips while you talk.”

She blinks, then turns and speaks again.

Fantastic. It’s going to be one of those nights. It doesn’t really matter though. She turns back with the tablet, and I go through the motions of putting in my library card number, name, and the date.

She hands me the pass, but her head is tipped down, so I miss the little spiel that all the librarians give whenever I check in. I know it by heart though, so I nod and smile and wait for her mouth to stop moving.

‘Have a good night, and thanks for being a total asshole about my being Deaf,’ I sign to her with a smile.

She blinks at me one last time before I turn away and head toward the stairs. My heart’s thumping a little hard. It always does when shit like that happens. It’s like a cross between a panic attack and an adrenaline rush because I’ve never been a confrontational person.