Chapter 54

I cry.A lot.

I feel like a hypocrite for all the times I mocked Heather for crying over Abe. I get it now. This is the worst pain ever. I miss him so much. And knowing how much he hates me just makes it a thousand times worse.

I keep reliving the whole thing over and over. I imagine the crushed look in Matt's eyes when he handed me that exam paper. Maybe I made a big mistake—maybe I should have gone to Matt right away when I got that note.

Of course, the main thing I keep thinking is:

If only I had noticed that last damn piece of paper in the printer.

It's silly to think about "if only" though. It's over with Matt. He hates me, and he'll never forgive me. The best thing to do is just to move on.

I don't go to class or lab, mostly out of respect for Matt. He's required to go, so the least I can do is be the one to back out gracefully. I keep to the library when I have to go to school. I try studying for the final, hoping that a stellar performance might convince him that I hadn't been trying to con him.

Unfortunately, it's pretty hard to concentrate. Plus I lost the best tutor I've ever had.

On the night before the final exam, I find myself in the library, studying late. There aren't many students around, but I recognize Sasha, my quiet little lab partner. I like Sasha. She doesn't talk much, she seems nice, and she's not terribly annoying. I wonder if Sasha might consider being my friend—I could use a friend these days.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one here on a Saturday night," I comment to Sasha as I slide into the seat across from her.

"It's never empty here on Saturday night," Sasha replies with a kind smile. "Do you usually study at home?"

"Sort of," I say, thinking of all the late-night "study sessions" at Matt's house.

I guess I must look pale, or maybe my eyes are bloodshot from all the crying, because Sasha is giving me a funny look.

"Are you okay, Rachel?" Sasha asks.

Sasha is reaching out to me—maybe I should confide in her. I eye Sasha, a tiny little pixie of a girl with olive skin and a plain face. Sasha looks much younger than twenty-two, more like a high school girl, and I can't imagine she could know much about love or sex.

Then again, didn't Heather say that Sasha is hooking up with Mason Howard? Sasha must know something if she's getting it on with a guy like Mason.

"It's just this guy I've been seeing," I finally say. I appreciate how Sasha doesn't immediately start grilling me to find out his name, like Heather would have. "We sort of… we broke up recently. I really messed things up."

Sasha frowns. "I'm sorry. Did all the studying get in the way?"

"No, not really," I nearly laugh at how opposite Sasha's question is from reality. "I just… did something dumb. He wouldn't even let me explain."

"So you're having a fight?"

"No, it's over," I assure her. "I did something pretty unforgivable."

"You cheated on him," Sasha says, nodding with understanding.

"No, it's not that…"

And that's when I realize something:

I didn't do anything wrong.

Okay, technically, I did. I stole an exam. But I did it for honorable reasons. The worst thing I've done is that I wasn't honest with Matt about why I did what I did. He deserves to know the truth before he decides to dump me. Honestly, I owe it to him.

"Sasha," I say. "I have to run out for a few minutes. Can you watch my stuff?"

Sasha looks confused but nods in agreement. I leave behind all my belongings, and I run out of the library. I hurry up the stairs, past the anatomy labs, over to Matt's office. It's dumb because of course, he'll never be here. But I have to try.

Just as I get to Matt's office, the door opens, and the prongs of his cane peek out. I race over then pause, doubled over, trying to catch my breath.

"Matt," I gasp.

He looks up at me. There's no affection in his blue eyes.

"What is it, Rachel? I've been stuck here all night rewriting the exam."

Well, at least he seems more angry than hurt right now.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" I ask.

"There's nothing to say," he mutters.

"Please."

Finally, he nods, although his expression is still wary. He backs up to give me room to enter. He gestures toward the seat, and I sit down while he plops down in his own chair. He crosses his arms and glares across the desk at me.

I had been working on a brave little speech as I ran over here. Something about how I gave in to the blackmailer to save his career and only did it because I care about him so much, and if he couldn't understand that, then maybe we weren't meant to be together. But he keeps looking at me with that hurt and angry expression, and the second I open my mouth to speak, everything I planned to say suddenly flies out of my head.

And then I'm crying. Huge, ugly tears are gushing down my cheeks. My shoulders shake with wracking sobs. I don't think I've ever cried so hard in my whole life. I wipe my eyes, trying to keep up with the rapid flow of tears, but I can't.

"Rachel," I hear him saying, "Rachel, please stop crying…"

"I… I can't!" I sob. "I miss you." I sniffle and hiccup. "I know you don't believe me, but I only stole that exam because someone was going to tell on us."

He frowns. "What are you talking about?"

"I got a note." I wish I'd brought the note. Oh well. "It said that if I didn't put the exam in Locker 282, everyone would find out about the two of us. I couldn't let that happen."

"Yeah, sure…"

"It's true!"

He's quiet for a minute. The only sounds in the room are the whir of the heater and my persistent sobs. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to stop. They'll put me in the Guinness Book of World Records for crying.

Finally, he sighs loudly. "I don't know what to believe anymore…"

I look up at him and wipe my eyes. "It's true," I insist again, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "I swear it's true. I swear on my life."

Finally, Matt stands up and hobbles around the desk. He touches my shoulder gently, and I look up at him. I feel really unattractive with my swollen eyes and runny nose.

"Look, Rachel," he says, "I do believe you, but… it doesn't matter. We're wrong for each other. For starters, I'm your professor, and I'm also a lot older than you. Maybe we had some fun together, but that's it."

"It was a lot more than that for me," I whisper.

Matt pulls a tissue from a box on his desk and gently wipes my cheeks. The gesture is so tender that I start to cry harder.

"Yeah," he says, "it was more than that for me too."

It probably can't ever "work out" with Matt, but I don't care anymore. I just want to be with him right now—that's all that matters. I stand up and fall into his arms, and he clings to me like he's missed me as much as I missed him. When we kiss, I realize I can't bear to ever be apart from him again.

"Matt," I murmur, "I do love you. I really do."

"I love you too, Rach," he says, and I remember how much it hurt when I thought I'd never hear those words ever again.

That's when we hear a knock at the door.

"Shit," Matt mutters. He looks at the door, willing the person to go away. No such luck—there's a second, more urgent knock. "Shit," he says again. Then louder, "Who's there?"

The student behind the door calls out his name, and my stomach clenches. What the hell is he doing here in the middle of the night on a Saturday?

"I'll get rid of him," Matt promises. He runs his hand through his short black hair to comb it out slightly. "Although it probably wouldn't look too good for you to be seen here, huh?" He glances around his office, "Do you think you can make yourself out of sight for a few minutes?"

I scan the room.

"The desk," I say. I approach Matt's large mahogany desk and lower myself onto my knees. My body fits perfectly into the nook underneath the desk, and I'm completely undetectable. Well, as long as nobody's looking for me.

The floor of Matt's office is cold and hard, tiled with off-white squares. Many of the other offices have carpeting, but Matt told me he's worried about snagging his foot. The bones of my hips dig uncomfortably into the floor as Matt opens the door. I shift, hoping Matt will get rid of the intruder quickly.

The door slams closed, and Matt slides into his chair, being careful not to ram into me in my hiding place. I strain to listen, but the desk is somehow filtering out the sounds. I can only make out hushed voices.

"Is that the excuse you're using?" my classmate says.

I perk up my ears, trying to hear what's going on, when a fist slams into the thick wood of the desk above me. I nearly jump out of my skin, and I hug my knees to my chest. What the hell is happening up there?

I tug on Matt's pants, but he doesn't acknowledge me. I have no idea what to do. I want to come out, but that would look really suspicious. It's bad enough I'm in Matt's office late on a Saturday night, but I don't think I could explain why I'd be hiding under the desk. I can't. If I come out, we're so busted.

"Tell me how you killed him!"

I can just barely make out the words, but that's what it sounds like. Except that makes no sense. Matt didn't kill anyone—that I know for a fact. I must have heard him wrong.

That's when I hear the most terrifying sound I've ever heard in my life: a soft click.

I don't know what it is, but I've never heard anything quite like it. And suddenly, I know with absolute certainty that there's something terrible going on in this room.