Limerence: A Dark Romance (Fated Fixation Book 1)
Limerence: Chapter 34

Graduation day’s always a packed affair.

Dean Robins is always on his best behavior, eager to impress the absent (but important) parents that’ve flown in for the ceremony – and even more eager to impress the really important ones that haven’t.

This year, more than others, he’s pulled out all the stops – hordes of professional photographers clustered around the quad for prime-time angles, slots for a live show on both local and national news stations, and commemorative speeches from prominent alumni like the Princess of Spain and an Olympic gold-medalist.

Hours before the ceremony’s supposed to start, and the horizon’s beginning to blush rose gold, I pass by the quad.

It’s already crawling with reporters, photographers, security guards, and impeccably dressed kids trying to practice their camera-ready walks across the stage.

“I am going to kill someone.”

That particular screech belongs to Sophie Adams, who’s commandeering an entire group of photographers from the podium. “What sort of angle is that?” She snaps at one cameraman to the left. Her hair and makeup already done, her auburn hair curled into perfect ringlets. “You think I want the entire internet thinking I have a double chin? My cousin’s a Duchess, did you know that? You should be treating me like a lady.”

It’s funny.

At any other time, spotting Sophie might be the catalyst for a bad mood, but today, nostalgia colors everything in a brighter shade, even her bad attitude.

I still remember the absolute optimism I felt the very first time I walked these grounds. No more than fourteen, I was sure I’d found the place I’d finally belong.

Four years in, I can’t say this place’s done much more than chip away at all that bushy-tailed optimism. Lionswood’s never been the home I thought it would be, but it’s given me one thing I’ll never be able to replace.

One person.

Right on time, another shockwave of regret hits me, my legs twitching like they might override my brain and walk me right back inside if I lose concentration for more than one second.

This brand of regret’s not new to me though, and I’ve been dealing with these urges all week.

And I’m not going to give in today of all days.

I’ve come too far not to go through with this, no matter how much my body’s screaming otherwise.

So, I heave a sigh, take one last look at the iron gates that’ve taken just as much as they’ve given me.

And then I walk out of them.

***

The first text arrives only moments after stepping out of the Uber, and I feel my heart plummet onto the concrete.

Already?

I debate deleting the text immediately because, deep down, I know that my resolve’s already wavering, and even an innocuous text could push me over the edge.

Still, curiosity gets the best of me, and I unlock my phone as soon as I’m in the security line.

My fingers shake. He must’ve just woken up, which means…

“Ma’am.” The agent ahead of me clears his throat. “I’ll need to see your ID and ticket.”

As soon as I make it to my gate, my phone chimes again.

There’s momentary amusement when I read that one, and then, almost immediately, crippling depression when I realize this is going to be the last time he ever amuses me.

“We’ll begin the boarding process for flight 422 to New York City in a few moments,” the staff member’s voice rings out over the intercom. “Starting with our American Airlines Advantage One members…”

I swallow and pocket my phone.

This is it.

By now, the entirety of Lionswood’s senior class must be awake – if not the rest of the school. I’m sure there’s some gourmet free breakfast catered in the cafeteria, courtesy of an ostentatious parent.

My stomach grumbles at the thought of the flaky almond croissants and ham and smoked cheddar rosti that lined the tables last year, but it would’ve been too much for me to stay long enough to grab a bite to eat.

My phone rings just as the attendant calls for my boarding group, but I ignore it, peeling myself out of the scratchy airport chair and grabbing my luggage.

He calls again as I’m scanning my ticket, and the attendant shoots me a dirty look. “Sorry,” I mutter, but my stomach’s already knotting with realization.

He must’ve found the note.

At the crack of dawn on a Thursday morning, the flight’s relatively bare, most people choosing to settle near the front of the plane, close to the exit so they can make their connections.

But New York’s not a connection for me.

As I’m buckling my seatbelt, he calls again.

This time, I steel my nerves for the incoming emotional wreckage and answer.

I’m not surprised the first words out of his mouth are: “Where the hell are you?”

I take a deep breath.

Don’t get emotional.

Don’t let him get under your skin.

I know, more than anyone, that if I give Adrian an inch, he’ll take a mile.

“Not at school,” I say flatly.

The huff of laughter on the other end sounds breathless. “Well, I got that, sweetheart. Your dorm’s empty. And I found your note.” The tinge of displeasure in his voice tells me exactly what he thinks of the gesture. “‘Dear Adrian, I love you, but I can’t hinge a future on someone who doesn’t feel the same. Love, Poppy,’” he drawls, and I hear the crinkle of paper.

Is he crumbling it up?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to end this way.” I swallow the boulder-sized lump forming in my throat. “But I stand by what I said.”

“If needed, oxygen masks will be released overhead. To start the flow of oxygen, reach up and pull the mask toward you. Place the mask over your nose and mouth and slip the elastic band over your head…”

Adrian chuckles, and I know he’s heard the announcement loud and clear. “So, let me see if I catch myself up to speed, sweetheart. You’re clearly on a plane. Headed to…” He pauses. “Not home. No, you wouldn’t go back to Mobile. You don’t have a passport, so nowhere outside the country, either.”

“You don’t know that I don’t have a passport,” I retort.

“I do know that, sweetheart.” The confidence in his voice snuffs out any further argument on the subject. “And I doubt you’d pick a random location. I’m sure you’re dealing with financial constraints, which means you’ve picked your destination wisely. Let me guess…” There’s a tsking sound. “New York.” Another pause. “You got into Pratt.”

A chill runs down my spine, but I hold my ground. “You don’t know that.”

“Well, I didn’t,” he retorts, and I swear I can hear the smirk in his voice. “But you just confirmed it for me.” And then, more sharply: “So, what? Now that Pratt’s a done deal, you don’t need me anymore? One last fuck, and you slip off to an entirely new state like a stranger in the night? Should I have left you cab fare on your way out?”

I flinch.

Of course he’s angry – he has every right to be angry.

“It’s not like that,” I argue. “It was never like that. You know that. I wanted a future with you. I was going to uproot my entire life to be with you. I just needed one thing.”

The chirpy, blonde flight attendant’s making her way down the aisle now, closing the overhead compartments as she goes.

“You know what I think, sweetheart?” There’s a scoff. “I think you’re using that as an excuse. I’m sure you’ll need something to tell yourself when the decision you’re making right now keeps you up at night.”

My trembling fingers still. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m not.”

“I love you, Adrian.” My voice comes out as clear, as strong, as it’s ever been. “Even though I’m leaving you, I am desperately in love with you, and if you can tell me you feel the same right now, I’ll get off this plane. I’ll return to you. I’ll abandon Pratt. I’ll abandon everything but you.”

A sharp inhale on the other side – and then silence.

“Three words,” I continue. “Just tell me you love me.”

“I…” He falters. “Please come back to me.” It comes out sounding uncharacteristically small, and I feel some of my resolve threatening to crack. “They’re just words, sweetheart. You know how I feel about you.”

“They’re not just words, Adrian.”

The flight attendant reaches my aisle and gestures to the phone in my hand. “We’re prepping for departure, ma’am. Devices need to be on airplane mode.”

I shoot her a nod, and then tell Adrian, “I need to go. We’re about to take off –”

“This isn’t over,” he interjects, every ounce of supplication gone. “You have to know that, sweetheart. You may not take your promises as seriously as I do, but when I told you I’d never let you go, I meant it.”

I ignore the jab. “What? You’re going to come to New York and drag me back? You can pull a lot of strings, Adrian, but I doubt Harvard’s going to accept unwilling transfers.”

“No, of course not,” he says quietly, “That’d be too easy, and despite what you may think, I do care for you, sweetheart. If it’s Pratt you desire, I want you to have it. You don’t have to worry about me showing up and ruining your future.”

Despite his words, I feel just about the opposite of reassured. “Well…that’s good then. I’m glad we’re on the page.”

“Well, right now, that is,” he amends, and my body stills. “But make no mistake: I intend to take back what belongs to me.”

I can’t tell if my shiver is from dread or anticipation. “I don’t belong to you. Not anymore.”

“But you do,” he purrs. “We belong to each other, sweetheart, and this game you’ve started –”

“It’s not a game.”

“But it is.” His chuckle vibrates through me as if he’s ten inches away, not ten miles. “I’ve already told you. There’s no going back anymore. This is forever.” A pause. “Who knows? Maybe in a year or five or ten…”

My breath catches, but something in me rises to the challenge. “Who says you’d even be able to replace me in a year? Or five? Or ten? I could completely disappear by then.”

“Go ahead,” he says. “Run as far as you’d like. Run to New York, to California, to Europe, to Africa, to the ends of the earth if you’d like.” His voice pitches so low I have to crane to hear him. “Because when I replace you, and it is when, not if, sweetheart, I intend to collect my prize. I’m not sure you’ll like what happens when I do.”

“We’ll see,” I breathe, and with as much courage as I can muster: “Goodbye, Adrian.”

My final act of rebellion is to hang up the phone before he can reply – and immediately block his number.

The pilot’s voice booms over the speakers. “Alright, everyone. Wheels up in five. We’ve got a short flight to New York City today. Please remember to…”

I’m still trembling as the plane takes off, but a cloudless future stretches out in front of me, and I realize that Adrian’s promise doesn’t evoke fear or dread.

Only thrill.