18. Alex

ALEX

NOW – SOPHOMORE YEAR – JANUARY

O ur new apartment still smells of fresh paint. After a year of sharing a shoebox dorm with Piper, this place feels like a palace. But right now, it might as well be a prison cell.

Our apartment complex, like most student housing near UMS, had been retrofitted with all the latest green technology. Solar water heaters on the roof, smart thermostats in every unit, even a community garden in the courtyard where residents could grow their own vegetables. The rent was higher than the older buildings in town, but a lot of UMS students can afford it.

Luckily, my parents are happy to help with the rent. My mom even gushes about the fancy, eco-conscious place I’m living in to her clients.

“Did you see they’re adding another bike share station?” Tara called from the kitchen, where she was sorting our recycling with religious dedication. “Troy says the university’s goal is to have more bikes than parking spots by next year.”

“Yeah,” I murmur.

“Look, it’s not the end of the world,” Tara reasons, perched on the edge of our sofa like some kind of well-meaning gargoyle.

I want to laugh. Or cry. Or maybe throw something. Instead, I just sink deeper into the couch cushions, willing them to swallow me whole.

“It is,” I grumble, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

“You guys were friends before and…” Tara starts, but falters under my death glare.

She throws her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay! I know he didn’t agree with the protest, but whatever you guys said afterward can’t have been that bad.”

If only she knew. The words burn in my throat, begging to be released. But I swallow them down, like I’ve been doing for months. It’s stupid, really. I’ve told Tara everything since we met—from my breakfast choices to my childhood traumas. But this? This feels different. Raw. Humiliating.

Because how do you tell your best friend that you were dumb enough to sleep with Freddie fucking Donovan? That you thought you could do the whole “friends with benefits” thing and come out unscathed?

God, I was so naive.

I’d had a crush on him. A stupid, schoolgirl crush that I buried so deep I almost convinced myself it didn’t exist. And Freddie? He was oblivious. Or at least, I thought he was. He’d remind me constantly that we were just friends, regale me with tales of his latest conquests. And I’d smile and nod, because being his friend was enough. It had to be.

For the first time in my life, I had a group. Friends. A place where I belonged. And then the protest happened, and it all went to shit.

Freddie had called me childish. Naive. His words burrowed under my skin, poisonous little arrows that found every insecurity I’d ever had. And then, just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, he kissed me.

Was it to shut me up? To hurt me? To scratch some itch? I don’t know. But in that moment, he shattered everything. Because he knew. He had to know how I felt. And he used it against me.

I know Freddie. I know he doesn’t do relationships. So what was that kiss, if not the final nail in the coffin of our friendship? A way to prove once and for all that I’m just another notch on his bedpost?

Well, screw that. I won’t give him the satisfaction of proving him right. I’m not that naive little girl anymore.

I sigh, the sound filling our tiny living room. “I just… I thought I could survive the next year of college without having to speak to him again.”

Tara’s hand on my shoulder is warm, comforting. “I know, hun,” she says softly.

I offer her a weak smile, suddenly realizing how self-absorbed I’ve been. “Oh god, sorry! How was it with Carlson?”

Her face lights up, and she does a little happy dance that makes the couch shake. “It was brilliant! He says I’ll be the perfect candidate when the time comes!”

I listen as she gushes about ancient chicken bones and post-grad programs, trying to muster up some genuine enthusiasm. I am happy for her. Really. But I can’t shake the nagging thought that my own dreams just got a little further out of reach.

“Oh, and Dean from my paleontology class asked about you again,” Tara adds casually. “He’s been not-so-subtly hinting that he’d love to take you to dinner.”

“Screw it, why not? Give him my number. I’ll go for dinner with him,” I grin. It’ll be good for me to date more, besides, Dean seems like a nice guy and we did have a drunken hookup already so it’s basically a second date.

“Yay! And he’s nice. Safe. Totally different from?—”

“Don’t say it,” I warn.

I unconsciously reach for the space where the leaf pendant used to lie, before I ripped it off. I somehow haven’t been able to face getting it fixed. I feel as though I don’t deserve it yet, not until I’ve made a difference.

Because now I’m paired with Freddie for the end-of-year project. A project that could make or break my chances of getting onto the GSRI internship, and then the grad program, and basically my entire reason for doing everything.

And I have no idea how I’m going to survive it without either killing him or kissing him senseless.

Probably both.