Page 51 of Trick Play

I huffed out a laugh. “I have one left, then I’m done.”

“Ugh. I have three more semesters to go,” Mya whined.

“You’ll make it through.” I smiled as we entered the classroom and split to our normal seats. If I could survive four years here, anyone could.

By some miracle, class flew by. We had a lot to cover before finals, and Mackey wasn’t messing around. I barely had time to gather my things and run up the stairs to my next class on time because she went over.

Ethan was already at his desk and offered me a small smile before looking down at his notebook. Professor Clements started promptly on the hour and seemed to have taken notes from Mackey because we flew through more material in one class than we had since the course started.

He apologized for not giving us time to check in with our partners and excused us a few minutes late.

I rolled my shoulders before stuffing my things into my bag. This morning had been a whirlwind, and I wanted a second to catch my breath and work up the nerve to say something to Ethan, but when I looked up, he was gone.

I should have been relieved. We both needed space to sort through what happened yesterday, but I was disappointed. I took the path to my apartment building with unrushed steps.

Things between us were messy. Blurred. My feelings had been so cut and dry mere weeks ago. I hated him. I loathed him and how successful he was. I wanted karma to catch up to him. I wanted something, anything, to happen to him to make him hurt as much as I had.

Now, though, I didn’t want any of that.

I knew he suffered in ways I never could have imagined. I’d been blind and naive to think his life was as perfect as it seemed. No one’s ever was.

His parents hurt him. His self-esteem was ground to almost nothing through years of not doing well in school. He was under so much pressure to perform, to live up to all the support and sacrifice that had been given by so many to get him to where he was.

He made it look easy from afar.

I’d caught glimpses of him over the years on campus, strutting around like he owned the world. Like he was a king and the school his kingdom. He laughed and flirted and seemed to float on a cloud of glory.

But it was as much of a lie as I lived.

I pretended to be okay. To be happy.

I really wanted it to be true. As much as he did.

Years from now, I’d look back at this time with regret. I knew that even as I lived each day. I wasted my college years lost in bitterness and pain, refusing to allow myself to move on and heal. It was what fueled me. What pushed me to graduate early, to get the internships, to be the very best. I wanted out, but first I wanted to prove that he hadn’t ruined me. Not that he would ever notice or care.

It was my way of flipping the bird at the universe.

Not mature, but it made me feel a tiny bit better for a second.

“Kennedy!”

I jumped at my name and looked up the stairs to where Whit was hanging over the ledge, waving at me.

What the heck?

“What are you doing here?” I hurried up the steps, searching for my key so he didn’t have to keep waiting outside.

“I was in the area and thought I’d stop by.” He followed me inside, glancing around. I knew he was judging the small space. How clean it was. What was out of place. It was something our dear mother ingrained in us.

“You never come to Pittsburgh.” I didn’t believe this was a friendly visit. Not so soon after his call. He was checking in on me. Likely sent by our parents.

“The opportunity came up, and I jumped on it. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.” He pushed his hair back as if a single lock of light brown hair had a chance of misbehaving and escaping the perfect style.

He was wearing slacks and a patterned button-up. His casual. If he was here for work, he’d be in a three-piece suit. I eyed the attire, and he pursed his lips. “Fine. Mom and Dad asked me to pop by after they heard about Ethan being here.”

“They heard?” I repeated. “They could have only known that if you told them.”

He nodded while I waited for the lawyer to come out and argue me into a corner. “We’re concerned. None of us want you to get hurt again.”