“It’s no big deal.” I shake my head and start walking faster. “Just thinking about changing some classes. Don’t worry about it.”
Neither of them says anything, but I can feel Finn watching me like he already knows more than he should. I’m not surprised. It’s fucking hard hiding the fact that someone’s ripped open my chest and is currently feasting on the carnage.
Especially since this is the first time in my life I’ve ever felt this way. Before now, no matter what else was happening, I had Julia.
Now. I have nothing at all.
Wednesday, September 17th
Julia
Ace walks into Calc 2 two minutes late, but basically right on time because Professor Emmsy is conveniently MIA. Of course, I see Ace the second he steps through the door—even though I’m pretending to listen to Drew tell me about the big tailgate plans for the Dickson game this weekend—because despite my best intentions, I’m not even close to over the nuclear fallout with my lifelong best friend.
My stomach flips and my pulse jumps, and I force myself to look away when Ace doesn’t glance in my direction before he slumps into a seat in the back row like it physically hurts him to be upright.
Drew managed to get the girl who was sitting to the right of me to switch with him yesterday morning by bribing her with donut holes, but the seat to the left of mine is technically Ace’s via Professor Emmsy’s beginning of the semester assignments and, thus, remains poignantly empty.
It feels like a boulder is stuck inside my throat, and I swallow hard against it. The urge to cry is so strong that I have to shut my eyes briefly to keep the tears at bay. I do not want to be emotional right now. Actually, I refuse to be emotional right now. I’m in the middle of class, for goodness’ sake. Now isn’t the time to start sobbing in front of everyone, most of all Drew, who’s been nothing but kind and understanding as I work through the turmoil of having an ex-best friend.
I still haven’t gone into the details with him about whathappened with Ace, and even if it’s selfish, I don’t know that I ever will.
The wound full of questions I can’t answer is too deep.
Is it really done? Our friendship? Our bond? Are we really no longer Ace and Julia but strangers who used to be best friends?
Instead, I made up a dumb lie about us being in a fight over something Ace’s dad did to my dad.
Drew says something about the guest speaker our professor invited to class next week, and I nod like I’m listening even though I’m not. My brain never stops racing, no matter how tired I get, prepped, I imagine, by a lifetime of exposure to Ace’s charisma.
Discreetly, I glance over my shoulder to check…something.
Ace is staring at the floor like it has personally wronged him. His shoulders are tense, his jaw tight, and his desk is completely clear of a notebook or pen or laptop.
He used to draw stupid stick figure comics in the margins of his notes and then pass them to me with captions like“this is you falling asleep in class, but sexy.”
Now, he won’t even pass me a glance.
I shift in my seat, and Drew’s knee touches mine. I don’t pull away, but I don’t lean into it either.
Instantly, I wonder if Ace notices.God, I hope he doesn’t.But also, I hope he does.
Hell, I don’t know what I want. I only know this hurts.
I click my pen just to do something, but when that’s not enough of a distraction, I check my phone. I hate that there’s a huge part of me that hopes to find something from Ace, but there isn’t anything. No texts or calls or emails.Nothing.
I look back again, and Ace is rubbing the space between his eyes like he’s trying to press out a headache that won’t go away.
He looks…wrong. Off. Like he’s in the room but notinthe room.
You did that, Julia.
Guilt and anger and sadness and heartache wiggle inside mychest. I don’t know what to think or feel or do or say. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know if I want to fix it.
Ace might’ve told me he was in love with me, but he also told me things that showed me he’d been mind-blowingly deceitful.
The professor enters the room, tosses his briefcase down on his desk and starts discussing radial and interval convergences without preempt or greeting. I swallow hard and face forward again. I try to listen. Try to care. Try to pretend I’m not burning from the inside out.
After class, Drew asks if I want to grab coffee between my classes.
