They said it was his first time ever canceling a class so close to opening night. Some of the students whispered about the ethics investigation, saying that was keeping him holed up in his campus housing, but of course they don’t know better.
The people here will just believe whatever they’re told if it comes from an authority figure. So much for Avernia being so different from every other college in the fucking country.
“Besides,” Aurora continues, pausing in the mirror to adjust the outfit she’d been working on for some fashion class. “Who hasn’t accidentally killed their lover’s sibling before?”
Groaning, I shove my head under my pillow. “Aurora, please shut the fuck up.”
She makes an offended noise. “I’m on your side here.”
“There is no side. We’re all standing in the same confusion.”
“Well, what’re you gonna do?” she asks. “Sit around and sulk all week over a man?”
“Remember when you ate so many saltwater taffies in high school that you puked all over your mom’s super-expensive art collection because you thought Foxe was seeing another girl?”
“Being mean to me won’t solve your problems.”
A few seconds later, I hear the door to our room open and close, her footsteps falling faint as she leaves.
Sighing, I roll over and fold my hands on my stomach, staring up at the ceiling.
Time and space.
Logically, I can accept that he needed both of those things to process the information I provided. It makes perfect sense and is maybe a healthy way of dealing with things.
But my feelings aren’t ruled by sense, and I can’t escape the ceaseless pressure gnawing at my chest that this actually was a breakup.
What if he can’t stand the sight of me anymore? Or decides whatever use he was getting out of me doesn’t matter now that he knows what I did?
My breathing hitches, my pulse ratcheting in speed. I lift my fingers, watching them tremble against the backdrop of the white popcorn ceiling.
How many times can you break your own heart just by ruminating? Is there a limit to the number of stress fractures the organ can take before it shatters?
Mine seems so goddamn fragile compared to everyone else. Like it’s been waiting for the final blow to end its cycle of misery.Quincy, failure, and Jean-Louis weren’t enough, but this doesn’t feel like something I’ll survive.
Sucking in a deep, cleansing breath, I roll onto my side and pull out my phone, opening a star-map app. No matter the time of day, pointing the camera at the sky will reveal the constellations above. I close one eye and aim over my head, watching little dots appear and connect in the blue background.
Oddly, the act is calming—the fact that no matter what’s happening here on the ground, those stars remain.
Some die, some transform, but they’re still there. Offering guidance. Comfort. Something to look at when it feels like everything else is lost.
Closing my eyes, I take one more deep breath before getting out of the bed and shrugging into some clothes. If Sutton wants space and time, fine. He can have it.
I’m not going to wallow while he makes up his mind. It’s not like that changes the outcome.
Tying my hair back and applying some makeup, I shoot Lexington and Meg a text saying that I’ll be at the early rehearsal since I skipped last week. But when I go to open the door, a little scrap of paper is taped to the front with my name scribbled on it.
In Sutton’s handwriting.
My heart leaps inside my chest, excitement pumping through my limbs as I take it down, unfolding it quickly.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
Meet me at Lethe’s in one hour. I want to see you.
I blink at the words. The first line is a quote fromA Midsummer’s Night Dreamand so unbelievably Sutton, but does he realize what he’s implying by using it?
That specific line out of dozens of others that would have worked for a tryst?
