Page 3 of Fractured Fate

“Yeah.” He stood and picked up a large box sitting on the floor beside the table that held all their research materials that Monique had brought to their meeting. “I can’t miss any more days. I’ve had to take too many personal days.”

After they left, Charlotte packed up her things while Rachel cleaned the table. She wanted to ask about Noah, but Rachel got to it first with a smile.

“So, you and Noah?”

Charlotte tucked her red curls behind her ears. “He’s nice, but there’s nothing there, no.”

She figured it best not to pretend she didn’t understand exactly what Rachel meant. The looks her friend gave them whenever Noah showed any kind gesture toward her spoke volumes. Rachel wasn’t nasty about it; the looks were curious. With Rachel’s obvious crush, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce there might be lingering jealousy in those looks—even if the interactions she observed were entirely friendly in nature.

Rachel leaned her elbows on the kitchen counter, clasping her hands in front of her. “He know that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Does he know you’re not interested?”

Charlotte lifted her chin. “I didn’t say I wasn’t interested. I meant there’s nothing between us. He’s not said anything to me, and I haven’t to him.”

Rachel wrinkled her nose. “Well, he’s interested.”

Charlotte sighed.

She wasn’t not interested in Noah, but she wasn’t thinking about a relationship either. Her main goal was to figure out what she wanted to do with her life. If she returned to Rosebrook Valley, she wouldn’t see Noah anymore, anyway. Whether he felt anything for her was irrelevant. She wasn’t interested in short-term hookups. “It doesn’t matter. I might change my major, and he won’t even see me after summer session ends. That’s only like a month and a half away. Not much can happen in that short of time.”

Rachel stood upright, her mood shifting, her face holding concern. “Change your major? Why? Is everything okay?”

That sounded more like the Rachel she had gotten to know over the last few weeks in class. Up to now, the girl didn’t hold ill will toward her, but maybe Rachel’s feelings for Noah would change that.

“Well, I’m not passionate about accounting, if I’m honest. I really want to help my moms out with their businesses, so I chose accounting, thinking it would help when I finished, but it’s soooo boring.” She sat back in her chair and huffed. “There’s other business-related stuff I could study, but I don’t even know if I want to stay in Athens. I miss home.”

Rachel sat down next to her. “It’ll suck if you go, but you gotta do what makes you happy. If this shit isn’t making you happy, then don’t do it. This kind of career is not for people who don’t like it. Numbers can be really boring, even for me, and I like this stuff. Besides, if you change majors, then I get Noah all to myself.”

Charlotte widened her eyes.

Rachel laughed. “I’m kidding—sort of. I like him, but not enough to be a bitch about it. Besides, sometimes he seems weird.”

Charlotte laughed and shook her head, stood, and then picked up her bag. If she wanted to make the bus, she didn’t have time to question what Rachel meant about Noah being weird. It wasn’t like her to gossip about good people anyway. “I’m at least going to finish this semester either way. I’m not going to leave the group high and dry.” She put her backpack on her back. “I better get going. The last bus will be by soon.”

Rachel waved a hand at her. “No worries. We can talk more later if you want. I can help you figure out a major that appeals to you and will help out your parents.”

When she stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of Rachel’s apartment, Charlotte blew out a breath, thankful the rain had finally stopped. She still needed to walk to the bus stop, and with the humidity and the rain, her curls would turn into a frizzy mess.

Peeking at her phone for the time, she shook her head. She only had five minutes before the bus passed through. Glancing around, she frowned at the shadowed areas of the yard across the street from the complex. The streetlamps casting a soft light on the sidewalk made it difficult to see anything with the lights off inside the home. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling something, or someone, waited in the darkness.

Turning away, and ignoring the weird feeling, she headed toward downtown with Rachel’s words spinning around in her mind. Why should she stick with a career that wouldn’t make her happy? Even if it would help her achieve her goal of helping her parents, she hated the idea of doing something she didn’t enjoy for the rest of her life.

She groaned, impatience growing while she waited for the light to change so she could cross the street. Normally, the wait wouldn’t bother her. The bus stop wasn’t far, about a block away from Rachel’s apartment, but it was catty-corner across a major intersection on Hickory, forcing her to use two crosswalks in a row to get there, waiting for traffic and the light change both times. With her sour mood from the regret over her major choice, she wanted to get home as soon as possible. Even with the long wait for the lights, this stop beat the closer bus stop near the North Oconee River, which was way too dark. She didn’t like walking close to so many trees in the middle of the night.

In the distance, noises drifted up from campus; but overall, the nighttime air remained quiet around the deserted crosswalk.

After the light changed, she crossed. She’d heard footsteps on the pavement behind her as the signal changed, so as she paused on the other side to push the button for the walk signal, she glanced back the way she came.

Standing several feet from the place she had stood before, a man—or at least what she assumed was a man, based on his build and height—stood with a hood over his lowered head, hands tucked into the front pockets of his hoodie. She couldn’t see his face, even though he stood beneath a streetlight. Lights from the dorm apartment windows on the side of the street she stood on didn’t reach the other side, and with only a grass lot behind him, no other light helped her see the man clearly.

She turned back to the street in front of her and exhaled hard, her cheeks puffing out. Ignore it. He’s not following you.

The small figure on the crosswalk sign illuminated, indicating it was safe for her to cross. She fought every urge she had not to sprint across the road to the other side.

Whether driven by survival instincts or sheer foolishness, a voice inside her cautioned that running would only make her appear vulnerable—more vulnerable than she already appeared being a smaller woman walking the streets of Athens near midnight.