Page 30 of Unloved

He’ll use it against me.

I’d sobbed in front of him once before, completely broken down about missing my family, and he’d told me to stop behaving like such a baby. To “grow up.” It hurt, but I swallowed my pride because maybe he was right. I’d never seen Sadie or any of my friends from work or classes cry openly over homesickness.

Grow up.

“I honestly didn’t think she’d be there, Ro. I would’ve told you,” he says. Considering he hadn’t told me once in the times this happened before, I doubted that. “But you know our families are close, and she’s so incredibly smart, so it was good working with her. We won the entire thing.”

“Good for you,” I snap, shocking myself and him equally.

“Don’t snap at me like that. This wouldn’t even be a problem if you’d just—”Do better. Be better. Act right. He wants to say it; he hasa million times before.Tyler cuts himself off and runs a hand through his hair, making himself look a little more like a mock version of 2008 Edward Cullen, the strands standing nearly straight up and out to the sides. It’s funny enough to keep back a few more tears. “Look, never mind. I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“Seems like you did,” I mutter, but his proximity and the anxiety rushing through me is enough to have me wanting to make things good again between us.

Calm, at least. I hate fighting, so much that I concede every time. It’s easier that way.

“I’m not mad.” The lie burns my throat enough that I reach to hold it. Like that will stop the lump from forming. “I need some space, okay?”

“I promise, it was an inconveniently timed photo.” He puts his hands up defensively. “Truly, Ro, I need you to believe me. Don’t make this a bigger deal than it is, okay?”

How many times did he practice saying those words like an acceptance speech? The version of me that wants to shout at him, yell and scream, maybe slam the door in his face, is buried so far beneath the need to keep the peace that I’m not sure if she exists anymore. Instead, I’m piling hurt on top of hurt.

And I have a sinking feeling in my stomach that I will probably forgive him, and end up right back where we started. Right here.

He kisses my forehead, seeming pleased when I don’t push him back or shrug off his embrace.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? We can talk more. Whatever you need.”

I wait in the hallway until I’m sure that I can swallow the tears back so Sadie—and more important, her brothers—don’t see.

CHAPTER 12Ro

I spend the next two days avoiding a constant stream of calls and texts from Tyler.

I’m not ready to talk to him about it, even knowing I’ll have to face him nearly every day of the week. I manage to skip out on Monday’s lecture with Tinley to catch up on some grading work, but it’s my one pass.

Tuesday comes quicker than I’m ready for—and I find I’m more anxious about seeing Tyler than I am about my tutoring session with Freddy, which is usually my main source of the nauseating butterflies in my abdomen. In fact, I’m excited about the session, because I’ve spent the entire last week researching new ideas and instructional tools for dyslexia and dyscalculia, specifically in cases with co-occurring ADHD.

It’s quiet in the little alcove coffee shop this morning. Most of the students at Waterfell prefer the environment of Brew Haven, which makes this spot easy to snag, and it’s far enough from most distractions that it’s perfect for our morning sessions before my classes.

Coyote Theory’s “This Side of Paradise” plays over a crackling speaker at a low volume—after my research on music for concentration, which so far seems to be working—as I tap my pen to the beat and watch Freddy slyly between nonsensical doodles.

“Done,” Freddy cheers, slapping his paper down with a moony smile. “I deserve something for speed on that one.”

“Speed means nothing if you got every answer wrong.”

He makes apfftnoise with his mouth and runs a hand through his purposefully disheveled morning hair.

“Hey, Freddy,” a cheery voice says, and my student spins in his seat to wink at the pretty blonde at his side. “Good to see you. Are you coming to Zeta later?”

“I might—areyougoing to be there?”

She blushes, and regrettably, so do I. “Yes,” she giggles, seeming a little flustered by his mere presence. “My roommate and I heard a rumor about you and wanna know if it’s true.”

If I wasn’t watching his profile like a hawk, focused on the strong column of his throat and the line of his jaw, I probably would’ve missed the minuscule flinch.

“Oh yeah? Is it how magnificent I am with my hands? Or maybe my mouth?”

Her giggle ratchets up higher, but my entire body tenses.

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