I make up an excuse that I have to meet with my adviser. I don’t know why I do it, but I do. And while Drew is packing up his laptop, I look over my shoulder again—right in time to see Ace walk out the side door without looking back.
I’ve lost so much, and the bitter pill of it all is that there are some parts I don’t know if I truly ever had.
Thursday, September 18th
Ace
It’s Thursday morning and my ass should be in class, but instead, I’m storming down the hallway of the advising building, gripping the strap of my backpack like I’m about to use it as a weapon.
I only got through one of my classes before I couldn’t do it anymore. I simply couldn’t walk into another lecture hall, sit behind Julia and Drew, and pretend I don’t see the way he touches her arm when he makes a joke. Every fucking time she laughs over something he says—which is probably fucking stupid—my mind reminds me that that laugh used to be mine.
I used to be the guy who made Julia laugh.
I used to be the guy who walked her to class and sat beside her in each one.
But I’m not that guy anymore.
So, like a fucking coward, I bailed on my second class of the day, and now I’m standing in front of Cynthia Patreetus’s door, knocking once before pushing it open. I tried to come here Monday, but her secretary said she was out of the office until today.
She looks up from her computer, a little startled at first, but when she sees me, she immediately rolls her eyes and lets out a soft laugh. “Ace Kelly,” she greets. “No appointment, no warning, and not even a coffee bribe this time? To what do I owe this mildly chaotic interruption?”
I drop into the chair across from her with a sigh. “I need to change my schedule.”
She gives me a look that is equal parts amused and exhausted. “Nice to see you too.”
“I’m serious,” I say. “I want to go back to my original class plan.”
She freezes, and her fingers hover over the keyboard of her computer. “You mean, the schedule you abandoned because, I quote,‘this version is more aligned with what I need to have a challenging, optimized, experience-driven academic structure’?”
“Yeah. That one.”
Cynthia leans back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest. “Why the sudden shift?”
I stare at the corner of her desk and shrug. “I just think that was the better schedule for me.”
She gives me a look that says she’s not buying it.
“Personal reasons,” I add quickly. “It’s just not working out.”
Cynthia squints at her screen and starts clicking. “You’re six weeks in, Ace. Add/drop’s been closed. You know that.”
“I figured you might make an exception.”
She raises an eyebrow. “On what grounds?”
I hesitate, then repeat, “I just think that was the better schedule for me.”
“The better schedule for you,” she repeats slowly, as if she’s waiting for me to crack.
I don’t.
She sighs. “You’re lucky I like you, Kelly.”
“I know.” I smile, and hope starts to inflate my chest like a balloon.
That is, until her words pop that fucker like a pin. “But this isn’t happening. You’re locked in unless you’ve got a documented emergency. Death in the family. Medical. Academic probation. Time travel. Take your pick.”
I lean forward and hold my hands together like I’m praying. “Come on, Cynthia. There’s gotta be something.”
