I stare at him, the mention of Wes causing my heart to give a single, pathetic spasm. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, just that he’s so mopey and moody since you guys broke—” Kaden elbows Ben hard in the gut. “Ouch.”
“We all miss you,” Kaden says. “Take care of yourself, alright?”
I force another smile and wave goodbye. As I hurry toward the building, my pulse pounds like I ran a marathon, and all I want to do is collapse on a bench and catch my breath. I don’t. I keep moving, arriving at Markham’s office just in time for his office hours to start. Speaking to the professor whose course has caused me so much pain and suffering is the last thing I want to do, but at this point, I don’t have a choice.
I knock hesitantly on the door and peek my head inside. “Professor Markham?”
He glances up from his desk, adjusting his glasses. “Yes?”
“Sorry. Do you have a moment? It’s Ivy, from your eight a.m. class.”
“Ivy. Of course, I know who you are.” He waves me inside. “Yes, I have more than a moment. Take a seat. Please.”
I do as he asks, dropping into the chair across from the desk with a sigh. I’m shaky and out of breath, and it takes a minute for my pulse to calm. My body’s gotten so used to sleeping and not eating that normal daily functions take more effort than they should.
Markham frowns as he studies me across the desk. I fidget. Shift. “Ivy,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”
“I need to drop your class,” I say. “I’m not—I mean—I’m not doing very well.” What I do next is absolutely mortifying. I start to cry. Sniffing, I wipe at my eyes, knowing this moment will haunt me forever. “I-I’m sorry. This is embarrassing.”
Markham hands me a tissue, sympathy in his eyes. He watches me for a long moment, something almost like recognition shifting in his gaze. “Have you been to the SSC, Ivy?”
“Um, I’m not sure what that is.”
“The Student Support Center.”
I shake my head no.
"I would hate for you to receive a failing grade by dropping the class this late. However, if you’ve been to the Support Center, they might be able to let you drop due to mental health reasons. You’d have to talk to the counselor, of course, but it might be worth a shot.”
“Oh,” I mumble. “I didn’t realize that was an option.”
“I think I have their pamphlet somewhere in my desk. Give me a moment.” He rifles through drawers, pulling out papers before finding the one he wants. He passes it to me, tapping the text at the top of the page. “I believe this is the number to set up an appointment.”
“Okay,” I whisper, clutching the pamphlet between shaky fingers. “Thank you.”
“There’s no shame in taking care of yourself. Talk to the counselor and let me know what works.”
I nod, tucking the paper into my pocket. “I will. Thank you.”
After the meeting with Markham, all I want is to crawl back into bed and hide away from everything, and I’m a zombie as I walk back to my dorm. But when I see a tall, broad, familiar figure across the quad, I freeze up. It’s Wes, headed wherever he’s headed, and though he’s alone, he draws the attention of the surrounding world.
I start to panic. He’s nice to me in class, sure, but I don’t have the energy to face him now.
“Well, isn’t that pathetic,” comes an obnoxious voice, and I whirl to find Alexis and Madison sitting on a blanket in the grass. So caught up in my own shit, I hadn’t even noticed them. “Guess he got sick of you, huh? Seems like a common trend.”
Alexis smirks at me. It probably made her day to catch me pining from across the quad, and all I can think isyou win. You win you win you win.
“It must be depressing, though, constantly getting discarded by guys who only use you to get off. Does it feel like shit to knowyou’re barely a step up from their hand? It looks like it feels like shit.”
You win you win you win.
“I heard Tucker’s already screwing someone new.”
Before my brain can really think through her words, my heart sinks like a rock. She’s lying, I know she’s lying, but the thought of Wes with someone else…the thought of Wes with someone else makes me want to puke all over their picnic blanket. Alexis’s eyes spark like she realizes this, and I know I should walk away, but I can’t make my feet move.
“It’s true,” Madison says, nodding. “I saw him at a party with some sophomore girl.”
