“How does it feel to be replaced so easily, Ivy?” Alexis asks. “It can’t feel good.”
Madison shakes her head. “It can’t.”
“Do you believe in karma, Madison?”
“Absolutely.”
“I guess this is karma for fucking my boyfriend behind my back,” she says, loud enough for nearby students to overhear. And I just keep standing there. Like the soles of my shoes are glued to the ground. Like I’m frozen in place.
I picture my body deflating like a balloon right here, in front of Alexis, and letting her stomp all over me. She basically does, hurling insult after insult, and I stay there, a human punching bag, telling myself I deserve this?—
A pair of big, familiar hands lands on my shoulders. I hear the disgust in his voice as he says, “I think you’ve said enough.”
Alexis’s mouth clamps shut, and before anyone can do anything further, Wes is steering me away from the girls and across the grass. I’m conscious that we’ve drawn the attention of the entire quad, but I can’t bring myself to care at this point. We keep walking until he pulls us into a secluded alcove, out of sight of the prying eyes.
Wes ducks his head to meet my gaze, and his hands hold my face so carefully, so tenderly, that my heart squeezes. I bite my bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. “Are you okay?” he asks.
I swallow against my thickening throat and nod my head once. Twice. Then, I shake it, tears brimming my eyes.
“Ivy,” he whispers, before pulling me into a hug. I sink into him, pressing my cheek against his chest, realizing how much I’ve missed this. Missed him. I could stand like this all day long and never get tired of it. “I hate that girl, and I don’t hate many people.”
“Me, too,” I whisper.
He squeezes me tighter. “God, I miss you.”
“Me, too,” I say again.
“I wish you’d respond to my messages,” he murmurs, his chest vibrating against my cheek with the words. “I wish you’d talk to me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say because that’s all I have to offer right now. I don’t have the energy for explanations or reasoning. It’s taking everything in me to stand on my feet.
He pulls back so he can look into my eyes. “Where were you going before you ran into those girls?”
I drop my gaze to the collar of his shirt. “To see Markham,” I mutter. “I’m dropping Public Speaking.”
I give him a moment to process my admission, and then I peek up at him. When I see that the look on his face is one of shock, I feel even worse. “Ivy, no. If you want help with the speech, I can help you. I’ve been trying to help you. Just because things are different with us doesn’t mean?—”
“It’s not your problem, Wes,” I cut in, shaking my head.
“Ives…come on.”
“You’re a really good person, and I—”I love you,I think suddenly, because I do. I’ve always loved him, which is why thishurts so damn much. “I-I appreciate you,” I manage instead, “but I made my decision.”
He reaches out and takes my hand between his. “Ivy. Please let me help you. Don’t drop the class.”
I read it on his face. Disappointment. I’m letting him down again, disgracing the image he has of me in his head, and it’s a punch to the gut. How many times can I let this man down before it’s one hit too many? I should be dead by now. I sure feel like I’m dying…
I shake my head even though I do need help. I desperately, urgently need help, but as much as I would love for it to come from him, I know it can’t. I tried that already.
The second I make it back to my room, I dial the number.
THIRTY-THREE
The day is gloomy,the weather miserable. I park my car as close as possible to the SSC, but I still end up drenched as I dart down the sidewalk and into the building.
I’ve never stepped foot inside the Student Support Center, but it’s clear they put a lot of effort into the interior of the place. I’m greeted by calm, blue walls and plush, inviting furniture. Classical music drifts down from the speakers in the ceiling, and the air smells like cinnamon and spice. It’s a tranquil space despite the rain pounding the roof.
Nervously, I approach the desk, but the woman seated behind it only smiles at me with genuine warmth and compassionate eyes. She welcomes me to the Counseling Center, takes my name, and passes me a clipboard with paperwork attached.
