Page 43 of Tears of Glass

“Yo, Faith!” I turn at the sound of my name and blink stupidly for a moment as a tall guy slopes towards me. It takes a moment to place him. Because in my head he’s associated with the outhouse studio of Bowsley.

“Dylan?”

“You remember!” He smiles and pushes his hair out of his eyes.

“It was only a few weeks ago. I’m not suffering from amnesia.”

He grins and it’s all boyish charm. He’s got a backpack on and a lanyard hanging around his neck. “I’m signed up for first year.”

“Seriously?” It’s probably rude to sound so shocked but he doesn’t look upset. “Studying what?”

“Fine art. Guess you inspired me, I got in through Clearing—I was lucky.”

“Wow.” I’m a bit at a loss. “I didn’t know you liked art so much.” I shrug.

“I didn’t. Then you let me play with the glass, to hell with safety and rules, and I guess it inspired me.”

My mouth flaps open a little. I inspired him to take an art degree? That’s not possible, surely?

“Can you afford it? The fees are crazy?”

He nods but drops his eyes a little before lifting them to mine. “Elijah Fairclough is sponsoring me.”

He’s what?

“Wow, that’s generous.”

Dylan nods. “Yeah it is. I couldn’t have done this otherwise; my parents, they don’t have any money. I guess they never expected one of their kids to want to go to university, and if they had there wouldn’t have been any money to scrimp and save.”

I nod understandably. I get that. I’ve seen poverty around me all my life, but then I’ve also seen stupidity; men willing to spend hundreds on ink on their skin while their families need food and clothes. Hundreds they’d willingly pay me.

My mouth dries a little and my shoulders slump.

“I’m glad you’re here.” I nod my head towards the entrance. “I’ve got to get to class.”

He motions with his hand and then falls into step at my side. “So, you don’t mind talking to me even though you’re a super famous artist and I’m a freshman no one?”

I chuckle and sip my coffee. Shit that’s still too hot. “I’m not famous. And I’ll talk to you whenever you like.”

“Cool.” We are through security and the stairs leading the lecture hall are in front. “I’m up there.” I pull the crumpled timetable from my pocket and groan as I look at the first box listed under Monday. “Ancient ceramics. Great.”

Dylan grins. “See you around, Faith.”

“Sure.” I give him a wave and then head up the stairs. Gerard was having a laugh with my module choices. What an arse.

I pause outside the door and breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth.

For a long moment the real possibility of legging it back down the stairs and out the door is very close. Very close.

Then I think of Dylan. That dude signed up to an art degree because of me. That was one guy. One guy. What else could I achieve?

My hand itches to grab my phone. An aching wrench pulls my stomach as I battle the urge to call Al. He’d tell me to walk through the door and fucking own it. I know he would. My hand does grab my phone but instead of calling my favourite person, I send a quick text to Dan.

How you keeping? Missing me?

I’m back at uni and telling myself Al would have agreed. Tell me the same ...

I pause for a moment waiting to see if any dots appear to tell me he’s writing back, but they don’t. With a sigh I drop my phone back down and steel myself. I can do this shit.