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Her presence felt thinner in January.

For once, Henry wasn't eager to see Elizabeth.

Classes had resumed on the second Monday of January, and the first seminar of the semester was scheduled for the day after. It wasn't that he didn't want to see her—he did!—but he worried it might be more than a little bit awkward. How was he supposed to look her in the face after the dreams he'd been having? How was he supposed to hold a conversation with her after picturing her lips all over his body, after imagining her mouth and tongue bringing him to completion? And although rationally he accepted there was no way she could know about his dreams, the thought continued to plague him: What if she did?

But the Elizabeth who turned up to that first seminar wasn't the same Elizabeth whom he'd spoken to before Christmas break. It was hard to describe it precisely, how she had changed, as elusive as trying to depict a scent through words alone. But her presence felt thinner somehow. Like someone had removed half of her essence—the thing that made her her—and had topped up the rest with rarefied air. Still Elizabeth, in a way, but translucent.

She sat in silence throughout the discussion and stared vacantly at the blank page of her notepad while she rolled the capped pen that she held between both her hands back and forth, like she were testing an axle, first in forward motion and then in reverse. Initially, he thought maybe she was just thinking, or given that they'd already gone over the points last semester, maybe she didn't consider a contribution worth her breath, but when Dean presented an argument that she could have obliterated in a single word and she didn't even attempt to challenge it, he started to become concerned.

Maybe she and Josh had split up. Maybe their trip to the Hamptons hadn't gone well and she'd finally realised what an ass Josh truly was.

The thought reared its head before he could suppress it. It was selfish, and although he would have loved nothing more than for her to break up with Josh, he didn't want to see her hurting just so that he no longer had reason to feel jealous.

The moment the clock struck six, the students pushed their chairs back from the table, their movements so sharp in their eagerness to leave that the chair legs scraped and screeched across the floorboards. Elizabeth snatched up her notebook, slung the strap of her satchel over one shoulder, and strode towards the crush of other students that funnelled towards the door.

"Elizabeth?" he called after her.

She froze, her shoulders tensed towards her ears.

While the crowd beyond her filtered away, she turned to face him, slowly, perhaps needing time to muster the strained smile that she now wore.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

She gave a quick nod. "Fine."

Her smile was a touch too forced, her tone a touch too bright.

He leant back against the desk and folded his arms loosely across his chest. He eyed her.

"How was your Christmas?" he asked.

"Great." She nodded again.

"And your trip?"

"Perfect."

The silence dragged.

The clock above the door clunk…clunk…clunked.

Her fingers fidgeted against the base of her satchel strap.

Then—

"I've gotta…" She tilted her head towards the door.

Seconds passed.

Still she made no move to leave.

He studied her. A frown gathered on his brow. "If you need to talk…"

"I thought you were studying theology, not psychology." She attempted to widen her smile, but it still didn't reach her eyes. Instead, they remained clouded. More grey than blue.

She was lying. And deflecting. That much was clear. But what worried him more was that she wasn't even trying to conceal the fact that she was lying—or if she was, she was doing a far worse job of it than he believed she was capable of—and her deflection lacked her usual sharpness and that teasing glint. Something was off.

"Lizzie."

At Josh's voice coming from the doorway, Elizabeth flinched, and then tugged the fronts of her cardigan tighter around her, trying to pass it off as a shiver.

"Let's go," Josh said and jerked his head towards the corridor.

Elizabeth hitched up the strap of her satchel and clung to it where it rested against her shoulder. She paced backwards towards Josh, her gaze still fixed on Henry. Her smile had all but faded, and her voice was less of a whisper than a wisp. "I'll see you next week."

"Sure," Henry said, though his frown had deepened. He waited a beat, and then followed them out into the corridor.

He stood just beyond the doorway to the classroom and watched them as they walked away, past the row of windows that, with the black of night outside and the glare of the lights within, carried their reflections alongside them, and towards the double doors at the far end that opened out onto the quad. Josh had slid his hand up to the back of Elizabeth's neck, and although it was hidden beneath the curtain of her hair so Henry couldn't tell for sure, it looked like he was steering her with his grip; all the while, he whispered furiously in her ear.

Or maybe the touch was affectionate, maybe Josh was asking her how her day had gone, maybe his mind was tricking him into seeing the rift he wanted to see.

When they reached the end of the row of windows, Elizabeth said something back to Josh; though her words were too low to discern, her tone was sharp.

Josh jostled her by the back of the neck in response.

She tried to squirm away beneath his touch, but then her shoulders jumped and froze, as though his grip had tightened and had pinched a nerve.

"Elizabeth," Henry called out.

Elizabeth and Josh stopped. Josh's hand fell away from her neck, and they turned around.

Henry didn't know what he'd intended to say next, just like he wasn't sure if he'd seen what he thought he'd seen. But her name had burst out before he was aware of it, let alone able to stop it, and now both Elizabeth and Josh were staring at him, waiting.

He ignored Josh's cold glare and the way his heartbeat had quickened with a flurry of adrenaline, and he kept his gaze fixed on Elizabeth. "Can I talk to you a minute?"

Elizabeth looked to Josh, waited for a moment, and then, when Josh gave her no kind of acknowledgement or indication to the contrary, she took a hesitant step towards Henry.

But the second she moved, Josh turned sharply and blocked her way with his shoulder. He dipped in towards her, causing her body to tense as though she were resisting the instinct to stutter backwards half a step, and he muttered something in her ear.

Elizabeth listened, her gaze lowered. Then she nodded. Josh stepped out of her way, but rather than walking straight past him and towards Henry, she reached up and caressed his cheek and drew him in for a gentle and lingering kiss. When they parted, she murmured, "I'll just be a sec."

She strode towards Henry, one hand clinging to the strap of her satchel and holding it in place, the other buried in her cardigan sleeve. She came to a halt in front of him, and then nodded towards Josh and the corridor behind her. "Josh is taking me out to dinner and we don't want to be late for the reservation," she said. Her tone added the, 'So you'd better make this quick.'

His gaze darted over her shoulder, towards Josh, and then back to her. "I just wanted to make sure everything's all right."

She gave a jerk of a shrug, one that was mirrored by the inflection at either corner of her lips. "Why wouldn't it be?"

He frowned at her. Her tone was breezy enough to be convincing, if a little frosty, and if only she'd acted that way a few minutes ago, before Josh had arrived, rather than lying so poorly it was almost as though she wanted him to call her out, then he wouldn't have been worried. He wouldn't have followed them into the corridor. He wouldn't have seen…

But what had he seen?

She had kissed him, hadn't she? She had caressed his cheek.

Maybe he was imagining things. Maybe this was just a different face to his jealousy. Maybe his dislike of Josh and Josh's background caused him to see Josh's actions through a darker lens.

"If that's all…?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at him.

He nodded. "Sure." Then he dismissed the whole thing with a shake of the head. "I guess I'll see you next week." He turned away and retreated to the classroom.

The scuff, scuff, scuff of Elizabeth's Chucks against the parquet floor faded down the corridor as she hurried back to Josh. Henry paused in the doorway and sent them one last look. Elizabeth murmured something to Josh about an essay, and then she took hold of his hand and laced her fingers through his.

She was fine. She and Josh were fine. He was just imagining things.

Or so he told himself.

But as she clung to Josh's hand, tight enough that the skin over her knuckles turned white and translucent, he couldn't help but wonder: Was she holding his hand because she wanted to hold his hand, or was she holding his hand because she wanted to stop that hand from holding the back of her neck in a vicelike grip once again?