‘Is this fun for you?’ she asks. ‘Watching me make a fool of myself?’
A chill runs through me. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘No, it’s a bet.’ Her voice gets louder as she gets angrier and angrier. ‘Oh my God, I’m right, aren’t I? Who put you up to it, your buddy, Gabe? Pretend to be interested in the librarian then laugh your asses off when I fall for it. Well, don’t worry, Ethan, I won’t tell anyone you didn’t manage to seal the deal.’
How could she think that? I’m about to defend myself but then I remember. I’m not a perfect person and if she ever found out the truth, it would be so much worse.
It isn’t easy to look dignified in a pair of slides, but Mia manages somehow. She marches off up the path towards Carpenter and I follow, keeping more of a distance between us this time. When she reaches the front door, she throws it wide open then slams it shut behind her, leaving me outside in the cold. I stay right where I am until I see her bedroom light switch on, her curtains snatch shut.
I’m miserable as I let myself in and start up the stairs. Miserable but strangely relieved. I told her how I feel and now I have to let her go.
I don’t deserve her.
37
Mia
It’s always quiet in the library on a Sunday. Sundays are for pretending Mondays don’t exist, at least until around ten p.m. when the Monday dread sets in, so why lock yourself away in the library when you could be literally anywhere else?
I’d only managed a couple of hours of sleep, tossing and turning for most of the night before watching dawn break over the dome of the Hazelwood Library. It was barely daylight when I ran out of Carpenter House, deeply unready to speak to Ethan about what had happened, and what didn’t happen, between us. It was all such a shitshow. How does someone manage to fuck up a relationship, alienate their friend and complicate an already complicated relationship with their roommate all in one night? So here I am, confused, alone, sitting in the library while everyone else sleeps off an all-night party. Coming to Hemden hasn’t changed anything after all. My spread of Dickens research stares back at me from the desk. Just like everything else in my life, it makes less than zero sense but I’m determined to crack it. One thing Ethan said filtered through. I might be struggling now but that doesn’t mean I’ll be struggling forever. I’ve wasted so much time on Oliver and was too quick to accept his stories about Dr Quinn, how it’s impossible to pass his class, how I’ll never get on top of it. Why would I believe that? It’s never been true before. I try to soothe myself, thinking of all theincredible writers and great thinkers who might’ve sat in this very spot before me, but I doubt any of them walked away from a group hook-up then tried to bang their roommate by the river wearing nothing but a towel and a pair of Adidas slides. The complexities of nineteenth-century literature have nothing on what I’m dealing with. Pushing awayThe Selected Letters of Charles Dickens, I open my journal to record the delusional thoughts of Mia Meyers instead.
Pen in hand, I start scribbling, trying to wrangle my thoughts into some kind of order. Oliver behaved like an ass but I could’ve handled the situation better. He was angry with his bandmates, probably embarrassed that I’d overheard their conversation. I didn’t have to walk out on him or take out my frustration on Jenna.
And then there’s Ethan. If he hadn’t put a stop to it, there’s no doubt in my mind I’d have woken up in his bed this morning, full of regret. Whatever sanity check made me walk out of his room on my birthday was a million miles away and I should be thrilled he didn’t let me make that mistake. But when I think about the things he said … Smart, okay, that’s one thing, but funny? And beautiful? No one has ever accused me of that before. Did I make a move on him because I felt bad about the Oliver situation or because of the way he looked at me? The way his eyes glowed, making me feral. I truly don’t know the answer and it’s killing me. I always know the answer.
I flip back to the beginning of my journal, scanning entries until I reach the date that I found out I’d been accepted to the junior year abroad program. There it is, written right in bright blue ink. All the qualities I wanted in my dream Hemden man. Smart, creative, loves to read, passionate, makes me laugh, taller than me, dreamy eyes, incredible kisser, good in bed, thoughtful, makes me feel safe, really wants to be with me.
A lump rises in my throat as I read it over and over.
Oliver doesn’t tick every box.
Ethan does.
He’s passionate about soccer, he’s killing it in his classes and he’s so thoughtful he learned how to bake for my birthday. He makes me laugh, he’s tall, and then there’s his eyes. Shards of jade and emerald with shooting stars of gold, held together by that intense ring of black around the iris. I don’t need any more convincing he would know exactly what to do with me in bed.
Ethan Taylor is not who I envisioned when I described my perfect man, but he is exactly what I wanted.
‘I thought we’d find you here.’
Slamming the journal shut, I look up to see Alice leaning against a bookcase, Jenna by her side . My blood runs cold. I’m not ready. I don’t have my apology practised yet and I don’t think I’ll survive another fight.
‘I come bearing gifts.’ Jenna holds out a paper bag I recognize from The Snug and my stomach rumbles. ‘A peace offering.’
As soon as she lays the bag on the table, I know what it is. I can smell it. Even though eating and drinking is technically forbidden in the library, I’m powerless to resist a freshly baked candied ginger chocolate chip cookie. It’s my favourite and she knows it.
‘And,’ Alice sets her backpack down on the desk and pulls out three travel cups, placing one in front of me and handing one to Jenna, ‘coffee.’
‘Thank you?’ I don’t let myself touch the cookie or the coffee as Alice grabs a chair from a neighbouring table and sits at the side of my table. Jenna doesn’t sit, instead she clutches the back of my chair, pursing her lips.
‘Mia, I’m sorry about last night,’ she says. ‘I was bang out of order.’
‘What?’ I can’t quite believe what I’m hearing but her brown eyes shine with genuine remorse.
‘Hear me out, please,’ she says, misinterpreting my confusion. ‘You were right, no one wants to hear I told you so, I shouldn’t have said it.’
I cover her hand with mine and squeeze it tight.
‘No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bitten your head off.’
