Page 26 of Learning Curve

Me: I guess I’ll see you in class, then?

Finn: Yep.

Yep. Gah, why are boys so hard to understand? Is he just a short texter? Is he over it? What the hell is he thinking?

I take a deep breath in and close my eyes to calm down. Scottie, you need to chill.

Right. Well. Okay. I mean, whatever. At this stage of the game, I need to focus on myself anyway. Dane and I have been together for the majority of my transition to adulthood. Half the time, I’m not even sure I know who I am anymore.

For now, I need to think about me, so Finn Hayes’s text messages and what they may or may not mean don’t matter anyway.

Right?

Right.

Me: Goodnight, Finn.

Finn: Goodnight, Scottie.

Tuesday, September 10th

Finn

“Wait up, dude,” Ace calls from three floors up. I’m pushing through the stairwell exit door of our dorm, and I swear he was still asleep when I left the room less than five minutes ago.

Maybe it was a dick move not to wake him up when I know he’s got the same class as me, but for all I knew, he was planning to skip.

I stop just outside and tuck my hands into my pockets, a windy chill in the fleeting summer air making me feel like it’s going to be fucking Christmas soon—which I’m not looking forward to. I barely even set foot in my parents’ house Friday night, but the smell of booze and stale cigarette smoke still lingers in my nostrils.

Guilt for leaving my brothers and sister behind while I attend Dickson is a daily struggle that was only renewed by stepping back into that world. I know I need to live my life, but I can’t help but feel bad that both Reece and I aren’t there.

The door bangs open with Ace’s urgency, and I step out of the way just before he bowls into me.

“Sorry,” he apologizes on a laugh, sliding his feet back into his shoes that flung off in his haste. His hair is disheveled and his eyes sleepy, but his mood is bright. “I thought I set an alarm when I got back from Julia’s last night.”

I waggle my eyebrows, and he rolls his eyes. “She was trying to teach my stupid ass some calculus. I don’t even know how I met the requirements to be in that fucking class. It’s like hieroglyphics.”

“Don’t ask me. My dumb ass is still taking Algebra I.”

Ace chuckles. “The only reason I’ve passed anything in the last ten years is because I’ve gotten Julia’s help. She’d probably help you too, even with algebra. Or you could ask Scottie. She’s in our calc class and seems pretty good at math too.”

I hum but don’t say anything more. Being obsessed with a cheerleader who just broke up with Asshole of the Year isn’t going to get me any closer to my goals. Frankly, neither is being besties with Ace Kelly, but he doesn’t give me any choice.

On the plus side, he does seem to have an amazing understanding of where my actual boundaries are. He hasn’t commented on my parents’ house or how obviously run-down it is or the fact that I refused his invitation to go out on Saturday night, and right now, he’s not pushing the Scottie issue either.

We walk in silence for most of the trip to English 101, the courtyard teeming with just enough activity to stay engaged in people-watching. As we get closer to Newton, though, a crowd outside the front entrance piques both of our attention.

“What is going on over there?” Ace asks, transitioning his walk to a jog, his backpack slung over one shoulder. Reluctantly, I match his pace to keep up, trailing only slightly behind when we get to the crowd. It looks innocent at first—just a stupid gathering of people with no sense of awareness about blocking the concrete path—but when we get to the other side of them, it becomes painfully obvious why they’re gathered.

Scottie stands facing away from us with her posture sunken and her arms crossed over her chest. She’s in light-wash jeans and a simple white T-shirt, and Dane is in front of her, facing us, pleading his case as it were, football apparel on display as always. For the first time since I saw them on my way into class last week, he actually looks like he likes her. His face is gentle, and his words—though I can’t really hear them from here—seem placating.

Ace and I share a glance before continuing toward the two of them. We’re maybe ten feet away when I get a handle on what they’re saying.

“Please, babe, just give me another chance,” Dane pleads, and Scottie’s long locks brush her shoulders as she shakes her head.

“Look, I’m glad you can see how you were acting now, but we’re better off on our own. Too much has happened. We’ve both changed to want different things, and I can’t go back. And I don’t want to hold you back either.”

“I can’t believe you. All this time together, and you want to throw it away over one crappy week?”

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