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One
Vivienne
It’s not that I wish my ex were dead so much as I wish he’d never been born in the first place.
I know I shouldn’t let him occupy so much mental real estate, but truly, he’s the fucking impeached mayor of my brain.
Especially right now.
My heels, demure, mindful–click across the tile floor of my old department. Chin held high, I try to ignore the gasps and whispers of faculty when I walk by.
People I used to consider friends. Colleagues, at least.
I swallow hard, like if I can just keep all liquid out of my mouth maybe I won’t cry.
At the very least, I won’t let them see me cry. This time.
I take a deep breath as I reach the end of the hall, the main office of the History Department at my university.
The university I always wanted to go to, with gorgeous story-book architecture and moody trees dropping perfectly umber leaves in the fall. With the best research program for historiographers, like me.
I grit my teeth and knock twice on the door.
A little too hard, seeing as how it opens right away.
“Miss Estrella,” Henry Hobson, my old grad advisor, beams at me from behind his spectacles as he ushers me in. “I wasn’t expecting you today, but come right in.”
“Dr. Hobson, it’s so great to see you,” I tell him and genuinely mean it. He’s never been anything but kind to me. Even if his assistant was supposed to tell him I was coming. “I was hoping to discuss scheduling a new dissertation defense board, but a—,” I pause, choosing my words delicately. “You know it will be slightly different than what I’d originally planned.”
“Of course, here, why don’t you come sit down and join us? We were just getting started—”
I blanche, and anything else Dr. Hobson is saying goes right in one ear and out the other.
He’s here.
Cole Gibson, the piece of shit that ruined my life, my ex-boyfriend, my ex-research partner, or so I thought, and current inhabitor of all my most vile fantasies, is sitting in one of the two chairs in front of Dr. Hobson’s desk.
“Well, Vivi, you look beautiful today,” Cole says.
He has such a punchable face.
“Thank you.” My voice is clipped. Pain cracks along the back of my neck, and I exhale, attempting to defuse the headache before it really starts going.”
“Of course, we were just discussing Mr. Gibson’s groundbreaking research into—”
“Oh, you don’t want to bore Vivi with the details of that, Henry.” Even Cole’s laugh is pompous, and he raises one eyebrow, as if daring me to challenge him. “She’d always get so bored when I’d go over the real details of the old secret societies here, wouldn’t you? You know she prefers things like… literary analysis to historical documents.”
It would be so easy to take my heel off and shove it through his eye socket.
My smile twitches. “That’s not true, it’s my re—"
“In fact, that’s why I’m here, Vivi, darling.”
Red. I’m seeing red. Pain explodes, so sharp I fear it might be fissuring my skull.
“That’s right,” Dr. Hobson says, his tone sad. “He came with all the evidence of his notes preceding yours. You know I think you’re a good student, Miss Estrella, but academic dishonesty is truly… reprehensible.”
I open my mouth, staring between them.
