Chapter 12. He Lied

Tessa’s POV

“It’s the soap,” I say. “I switched soap.”

“You didn’t switch soap.”

“How would you know what soap I use?”

“Because I’ve smelled it every day this week.” He says it like he’s reading a stat off a board. “Same soap. Something else.”

I grab my bag and start shoving things into it. Laptop. Charger. Highlighters, in the wrong order, which bothers me so much I have to stop and fix it.

“Hey.” He doesn’t come closer. “I’m not trying to freak you out.”

“Then stop sniffing me like I’m a crime scene.”

“I’m not sniffing you.” He pauses. “Okay. I was sniffing you a little.”

I want to be angry. I mostly am. But under the anger there’s something worse, something that sat up straight the second he said different, the way a dog sits up when someone says its name. I don’t know what it is. I don’t want to know. I’ve had twenty years of doctors leaning over me with that exact look on their faces, the careful, interested look of s