Page 21 of Unloved

I clear my throat and refocus on my usual script. “We’re here today to do a quick assessment of—”

“Rosalie,” he coos, trying to calm me as he sets a hand on top of mine. It has the opposite effect, jolting me a foot off my seat as I yank my hands back to sit on them.

Rosalie?Oh my god. My cheeks stain darker somehow; I can feel the heat. I told him my full name? No one knows my full name—I never use it. Not even Tyler knows what Ro is short for, but he also never asked.

“It’s Ro,” I say, my voice small and squeaky. “I mean, that’s what I go by.”

There is a sliver of hurt marring his expression before he laughs it away and sinks into the chair across from me, still leaning overthe table with his large forearms and big hands. It’s distracting.He’sdistracting.

“Not what you told me,” he says in a singsong. “Besides, IlikeRosalie.”

I can feel my control of the situation slipping, so I straighten up a little in my seat and slide my notebooks and folders into a straighter line, busying my hands and watching my movements so I don’t have to look at him.

“I might’ve had too much to drink,” I say, biting down on my lip and swallowing the shame-induced lump that forms in my throat. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Rosalie,” he says, smirking at me as I blush again over the use of my full name. It rolls off his tongue like a song. “I really,reallyenjoyed last night.”

“I know I may have, uh,behavedin a certain way at the party last night, but I want to assure you that I am usually very professional—”

“But we didn’t know each other yet,” he says, frowning.

A dull ache throbs in my chest, but my smile still shines as I finally meet his confused gaze.

“Right,” I say before sliding over the packet I usually use for assessing learning differences. I clear my throat unnecessarily again, straightening my spine. Freddy mirrors me slightly, but his bright green eyes are still dancing. “Rodger and Tyler left me a few notes about you to go through. But I figured that we could—”

“Hold on.” Freddy holds his hand up like he can physically shove the words I’ve said back into my mouth. “Tyler—your asshole-maybe-ex-boyfriend—is TylerDonaldson?”

My mouth gapes, opening and closing a few times before I settle on a response that doesn’t includeI talked to you about Tyler last night?in a screeching scream. Instead, I try to grab hold of my fragile professionalism.

“That’s inappropriate,” I snap. Freddy slumps back in his chair, brows furrowed in thought and eyes pointedly aimed away from mefor the first time since he arrived at the table. “But, yes. Tyler Donaldson and I… date.”

Date.Present tense, because I’m not quite sure what to call this weird, uncomfortable dance we’re currently doing with each other.

A jovial smile works its way across Freddy’s face as he crosses his arms and meets my eyes again, “Of course. Makes sense why he warned me aboutyouthe same way they’ve warned you aboutme. Seems both of us have a bit of a reputation.”

The words sound like a joke, a purposeful jest. But I feel a little sick—more from the anxiety than from the aftereffects of the alcohol.

Tyler warned him about me?

The list of things he might’ve said feels so long and overwhelming I don’t know where to start—which only ratchets up the anxiety and fear to an insurmountable level.Ro’s had a crush on you since freshman year. She swears you were her first kiss, even if most of us don’t believe it happened. I can almosthearhis mocking laugh grating over my ears.

Or worse—my bedroom habits.

Tyler says I behave too brazenly, to put it kindly. I’m overeager, too loud or dramatically vocal. I ask for too much, or to do things that Tyler sees as“beneath someone smart like you, Ro. It’s degrading.”Would he mention something so personal to Freddy? Could that be thewarninghe’s talking about?

Could that be why Freddy found me at the party last night? Looked for me then and is flirting with me now? My heart drops again, like I’m on a never-ending thrill ride that’s easily shaving years off my life.

Maybe Tyler has been right all along. My behavior should reflect the respect I expect. If I want to be seen as brilliant and smart, I should be more reserved with sex, like Tyler is. Like I’m sure his prep school New York friends he spends his summers with are as well. If I do that, maybe I’ll finally be good enough.

I wipe my clammy palms across my pants and pull on a loose curl, wrapping it around and around my finger soothingly.

“Listen… If Tyler said something or I was weird to you last night, or something… just know, that’s not me.”

His brow dips, furrowing at my words as his fingers draw circles on the wood of the tabletop. His lips are twisted down, and I feel like somehow my words are upsetting him.

“What about what you said—?”

“I don’t remember anything from last night,” I finally say, my voice a little harsher than I intend, skin hot with humiliation. Nodding my head a little roughly, I press on. “It’s probably best that way. Let’s start over. Forget last night ever happened,” I cut him off, reaching my hand out like a formal greeting.

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