"I gathered that from the campus gossip." Her expression softens. "Look, I don't usually get involved in student drama. But you're one of my best students. I'd hate to see you tank your GPA over something temporary."
"It's not temporary." I snap the words out, sounding way too defensive and disrespectful when talking to a professor. "Sorry. I just…it doesn't feel temporary."
"Heartbreak rarely does. But it passes." She pulls out a form. "I'm extending your paper deadline by two weeks. That should give you time to get your head together."
"You don't have to do that."
"I know. But I'm doing it anyway." She hands me the form. "Take care of yourself, Sutton. No boy is worth destroying your future over."
I take the form and leave before the tears can start.
Work is its own special torture.
I'm refilling saltshakers in the back when I hear the other servers talking in the break room.
"Did you see that photo of Declan Hayes?" That's Sarah, the girl who works weekends.
"Oh my god, yes. Poor Sutton." That's Jennifer, who's been here longest. "But honestly, I'm not surprised."
"What do you mean?"
"Come on. Declan Hayes? The hockey star with the NHL future? And she's what—a scholarship kid working at a restaurant?" Jennifer laughs. "That was never going to last."
"That's harsh."
"It's realistic. Girls like Bree Matthews—they know how to play the game. Sutton's sweet, but she's out of her league."
"I heard she went crazy."
"See? Insecure. That's exactly what I'm talking about. She couldn't handle being with someone like him."
I set down the saltshaker carefully, my hands shaking. This is what happens when you live, work, and go to school in a town the size of a box and everyone knows everyone.
I cannot wait to graduate and get the hell out of here.
I finish my shift on autopilot and drive home in silence.
Keira is at the house when I get home. I assume she’s there for Crew.
"Intervention time," she announces.
"I don't need an intervention."
"Yes, you do. You look like the undead. When's the last time you ate something that wasn't coffee?"
"I eat."
"Sadness doesn't count as a food group."
She leans down and gives Crew a quick kiss. “See you later.”
Then she takes my hand and leads me upstairs.
She's already set up her laptop on my bed, a pile of snacks beside it. Chocolate. Chips. Wine.”
"Keira, I’m fine. I really don’t need to keep sulking. Or binging junk food.”
"Sit. Eat. Watch." She pats the bed. "Doctor's orders."
