The Secrets Within Pages

An Eventful Exchange

A gasp escaped me as I whipped my head to face him.

"What's got you all wound up, Burroughs?" He inquires with a smirk, clearly enjoying my reaction.

Silas.

"Besides you? Nothing. God, haven't you ever heard that it's not nice to sneak up on people, especially in the dark?" I pressed, trying to calm my beating heart.

"When have you ever known me to be nice, love." he continued.

How is he so calm? Does he not know about what's happened?

I rise out of my seat and reach for the picture he still holds, when he darts his hand away to keep me from it.

"Oh no, not just yet." He makes a tutting noise. I attempt to grab it from all angles but its no use when he taunts me by dangling it over my head.

"You're hilarious. Now give me the picture, Golding." I say, sternly looking in his eyes.

"Who are they? Tell me, and I'll give it to you"

"I haven't even seen it, you prick!" I snap, grabbing at the page.

It was Professor.Osbourne when he was younger and two other men with their arms around each other, laughing in front of the Radcliffe Camera at Oxford.

"That can't be, can it?" He whispers, so close I feel his breath on my neck, gooseflesh erupting all over my skin.

"Professor. Osbourne." I answer, moving back to my desk not looking at him.

"Why do you have that? In fact, what are you doing here? I know you're not studying."

"So many questions. Golding, has anyone ever told you, you're an insufferable nuisance?" I asked, tilting my head. It was obvious he hadn't a clue of what had happened, which reminded me,

"That letter you gave me, where did you get it? And who gave it you?"

"Answer my questions and I'll answer yours." He retorted, hands in pockets.

I didn't have time for this. "Well then, it seems we'll both remain curious"

Unlocking his jaw, he looks at me intently before admitting defeat. "Well played, love. I found it this morning, someone had slipped it under my door."

Oh how I loved getting to him, beating him. Three years now we'd been in Osbourne's class and every time we received our exam results, i'd hold my breath and bite my lips in anticipation, needing to know I got higher than him. I'd bested him 17 times while he advanced me by 23, that alone kept me up long, exhausting nights where the library became my home, studying so that the next one I would win. But what bothered me most is how effortless it was for him. Not once had I ever seen him go to the library, perhaps only sometimes and even then he would come only to read a couple pages of a book where I caught him staring at me most of the time.

I hated him for vexing me so.

I'd try so hard, study until I felt my brain turn to sludge from the exertion and here he was, smug as ever, without an ounce of struggle, exceeding me with such ease.

"Slipped under your door? And you didn't question it?" I probed, wondering how someone so dismissive could be so clever that he'd beat me 23 times.

"Burroughs, you assume too much. I've never questioned the true nature of your relationship with that old bastard. After all, I had my suspicions of how you scored so well."  He slithered, nose mere inches from my own.

The utter gall he had to accuse me of such foul behaviour. I knew he was just trying to get a rise out of me and I shouldn't give him the satisfaction, but the already stressful circumstances with the fire of rage he'd ignited inside me didn't bode well—

I slapped him. Hard.

"How dare you?" I spat. His hair hiding the side of his face, only his jawline visible as he clenched it and turned to face me with a lethal look in his eyes.

"Oh, you're going to regret that. Whatever it is your up to, Burroughs, I'll find out." He said, thumb swiftly adjusting his jaw before walking out of the library, leaving me to contemplate whether or not that made me feel better for releasing some of my anger or worse.