Roxy’s right. It was Ezra’s idea. I was planning to tell Lorna no about the offer she made and he pushed me to do it with a woman because he didn’t want me to enjoy the experience with a man because he felt like it would be cheating. It was his suggestion. Being with Roxy wasn’t a threat to him. Until it was.
So if he has a hangup about me developing feelings, then it’s all on him. He’s the one who pushed me in the first place.
“I’d like to pursue this thing with us. I don’t know what’s happening with Ezra, but if you’re able to understand, I’ve still not completely shut the door on him…” I still hope he reaches out to me, and we can fix our relationship.
“I can,” Roxy answers before slamming her lips on mine, the movie long forgotten.
Chapter 22
Felicity
Iwakeupalone,mybody still humming from last night—Roxy’s lips on mine, her fingers tangled in my hair, the way her breath caught when I kissed her harder. We didn’t go further than kissing, though I could feel the tension between us, electric and unspoken. She wanted more. I wanted more. But a sharp pang of guilt slammed into me, heavy and unshakable, and I’d pulled away with some half-hearted excuse about being tired and having an early class.
A lie. Kind of.
The truth? That was the complicated part. I was scared. Terrified, really, of moving on with my life, alone. Of what it says about Ezra. About me. Because going further with Roxy would be accepting that Ezra and I are truly over, and I’m not ready for that. Not yet. Some part of me still clings to the hope that he’ll text, call, show up. Something. Anything. Even if it’s to tell me how much he hates me. But the silence this morning is louder than ever. Still nothing. No “sorry,” no “I miss you,” no “please come back.” I’d take a “fuck you, Felicity.” At least then I’d knowhe was thinking of me. That there was still a sliver of hope, instead of this agonizing unknown.
And yet, I know, deep down, I won’t hear from him again. It’s almost like a sixth sense.
It’s over.
The realization settles in my chest like wet cement. Heavy. Cold. Final. It makes me question everything—especially whether telling people what Ireallydo is ever worth it. They can say they can handle it, but when push comes to shove, when fantasy gives way to reality, they will run. Just like Ezra did. Even when he was the one to push and encourage me into the act that ultimately ended us.
And I’m the one left behind to pick up the pieces. Heart cracked. Alone.
I pull my comforter up around my neck, just laying there until I’ve burned through all the excuses I can muster. Then, with a sigh, I get up, throw on jeans and a hoodie, and sling my bookbag over my shoulder. Time to face the day. Time to face Roxy.
Last night’s lie isn’t a total fabrication—I do have a class today. It’s notthatearly, well, unless you consider ten a.m. early. I have a psychology exam I’m totally under-prepared for. I tell myself I need to get to campus early to cram, and while that’s true, it’s also just easier than confronting the girl whose heart I might’ve bruised while trying to protect the fragile shards left of mine.
I expect to find Roxy in the kitchen or the living room, maybe with a knowing look or some teasing remark. But the apartment is quiet. Still. Empty. When I glance out the window, her car’s already gone. A strange mix of relief and disappointment twists in my gut. A part of me is grateful that I can dodge an awkward conversation—yet part of me feels... bummed that I can’t see her.
How messed up am I?
The drive to campus is uneventful, the kind of autopilot ride where your hands move but your mind’s far away. I hit every green light; at least I hope they were, since it’s still kind of a blur. It’s almost as if the universe is conspiring to make sure I show up for this damn test. No excuses. No delays. No love drama to prevent it.
In a way, it did happen that way. No Ezra. No Roxy.
When I pull into the lot, I brace myself for the usual morning scavenger hunt for a spot. But then, like fate’s giving me one more tiny win, a car backs out of a front-row space just as I turn the corner. I slide in it, stunned, but happy.
Front row. Prime spot. No ten-mile trek. It’s almost suspicious how easy things are going for me this morning. Shit. Maybe I should press my luck and go play the lottery. Hit the jackpot and run away somewhere and escape from the shambles of my life.
But I’ll take it.
I grab my bag, step out into the cool morning air, and steel myself for the day ahead—my test, my guilt, and eventually, whatever conversation I owe Roxy. One thing at a time.
The wind cuts through my jacket as I make my way to the student union. I need coffee and I have a quick study session planned with Katelynn. We’re both feeling shitty about this test and want to run through the study material together.
I’ve barely stepped into the student union when I hear my name being called.
“Felicity! Felicity.” I turn toward the familiar voice. Katelynn. “Over here.” She stands from the table, holding up two coffee cups in her hands. She's a fucking lifesaver.
I smile widely and make my way over to her, weaving through the tables and people as if I’m a piece on a gameboard.
“I was about to message you,” she says as I sit down in the chair beside her, placing my bag on the table and pulling out my notebook.
“Just running late.” I open the notes I need to study while taking a sip of the hot coffee. “Thanks for this.”
“You’re welcome. It was my turn to buy, anyway.” She looks at me, her mouth opening and closing, but never saying anything more. She flips the pages in her notebook back and forth nervously.
