11
The date with Luka had ended on a perfect note. He’d not only shown me pleasure, he’d shown me empathy. It felt nice to be with someone who understood. I couldn’t stop thinking about his words.
Or his fingers.
But now wasn’t the time for that, I had to remind myself. It was Friday, and I wanted to enjoy my weekend instead of spending it studying. It was time to crack the books in the campus library and get things done. Sometimes it was hard to get myself out of writing mode and into school mode. The former felt so natural, like everything I ever wanted to do. It often felt like I was being pulled in two directions whenever I had to go back to student life.
But after a while, I fell into a nice rhythm. Nice might not have been the best way to describe anything having to do with studying, but there was a rhythm and flow to it as I flipped through chapters and jotted down notes, comparing them to class handouts. I allowed myself to sink in and get in the zone.
“Whatcha workin’ on?” Cynthia said.
“Ah!” I jumped and yelped, broken out of my intense concentration.
“Shh!” came the aggravated whisper from a student nearby.
“Oh give it a rest, would you?” Cynthia whispered in the student’s direction. He closed his book, picked up his bag, and moved to a different table.
“Good riddance,” Cynthia said, sitting down next to me. “I just wanted to say hello real quick. Everything okay for you?”
“I’m good,” I said. “Really good, actually. Better than I was the day before last, that’s for sure.”
“Why’s that?” Cynthia asked.
“Just…” I thought about the message I’d gotten from the blackmailer, and all the looks and stares, and the feelings I’d had about my status and being seen as the poor girl who got lucky. “It was a lot of stress.”
“Vanessa isn’t giving you a hard time, is she?” Cynthia asked. “I don’t know what her problem is, but she’s got a real thing against you.”
Vanessa was always so clipped with me, borderline rude. Never outright nasty, but a master of passive aggression.
I sat up straight in my chair.
Could… could Vanessa be the blackmailer?
Was she capable of something like that?
“Maybe I should talk to her and straighten things out,” I said.
And look for any clues that she was the one behind those threatening messages.
“You know what I do when I’m stressed?” Cynthia asked. “I pull back and cocoon up for a while. I try to get a new perspective on the world, and just say fuck it to everyone and everything for a few days.”
Saying fuck it to everyone and everything. The idea did sound appealing.
“You don’t need the stress of all the post-trial stuff,” Cynthia continued. “It’s gotta be stressful enough with the writing as it is, and pleasing the half of the school that does like you.”
“It is kind of wearing on me,” I admitted.
“Take a vacation,” Cynthia said. “You’ll feel better. Do the bare minimum and otherwise check out. Even for just a few days. Spend some time off-campus or something. You have to take care of yourself.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I said.
I ran through the memories of my days this week. So many of them were stressful, and there was also the question of the gala, and which of the guys I would be going with, if any at all. As wonderful as my time had been with Riot and Luka, and even Jaeson before he said what he did, maybe it was a good time to take a step back.
“Sorry to give sage advice and run, but I’ve got a class coming up,” Cynthia said. “I’ll see you at VIP Lit.”
“Thank you, Cynthia,” I said as she waved and walked away.
I looked back to my notes and textbook, flipping through a couple pages.
