Page 42 of Unloved

Her questions about sex have plagued me since the day she asked. I want to know where they come from—or better yet, why she’s askingmeand not talking about it to the person she’s having sex with.

Which isnotsomething I want to think about.

Though watching Tyler attempt to devour her face is dangerously close to making me laugh. The surprise on Ro’s face tells me even more, that this public display is more for my benefit than for hers—or even his.

Tyler finally releases her. Ro’s face is bright red as she walks to me, an embarrassed, shameful set to her shoulders that erases every teasing remark from my brain. Instead, I open the door for her, shooting Tyler a quick glare before following closely behind her.

“You okay?”

“Me? Yeah. Fine,” she says, but her voice is shaky. “Why?”

I shrug. “Just checking.”

I hand her the sweating plastic cup with a smile. She takes it, confusion wrinkling her brow.

“What’s this?”

“Iced dirty chai. That’s what you like, right?” She looks so confused and mildly upset that a bolt of panic shoots through me. “Did I get it wrong? I’m sorry. I’ll buy you something else at—”

She cuts me off. “No, no, no, it’s my favorite. I can’t believe you remembered. Thank you, Matt.”

My given name feels like a warm blanket falling over me as it rolls off her tongue.

“No big deal.”

I take a sip of my iced coffee and walk closer to her as we cross campus to our quiet library spot. We chat the entire way, returning to the favorite-movies topic since we both continue to think upmorefavorite movies to add to the list.

I’ve almost forgotten about the test altogether until she asks, after we’ve settled into the booth and unpacked our bags. But… things feel good, and I don’t want the pleased expression she’s been sporting since I handed her the drink to disappear.

My plan to lie disappears in the face of her calm, gentle expression.

“Actually.” I scratch the back of my neck and avoid her eyes. “I failed.”

Waiting for the crush of her disappointment, I busy my hands with fumbling for the horrid thing, paper slicing into my thumb as I shove it toward her.

“Pretty embarrassingly, actually.” I chuckle, cracking the joints in my fingers—anything tonotlook at her in this humiliating moment.

But then her hand settles over mine, stopping my fidget. Ro’s voice is quiet as she says, “Not embarrassing. Just tells us what we need to work on. It’ll be okay.”

When I finally arch my neck up to look at her, she’s fiddling in the smaller pocket of her backpack for something. She meets my gaze, hazel eyes glittering with mischief I’m enlivened to match. Her hand opens to spill a pile of butterfly clips across the table.

“Okay—”

She explains the problems, or more so the proper order of equations that I clearly did not comprehend, and I try to focus and listen. My heart races with exhilarated bliss.

I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For there to be something to offset the pure luck of having Ro on my team, that she’s truly on my side—that she cares so deeply about what I understand that she trulywantsto help me.

“Does that make sense?”

Her voice drowns everything out for a moment and my cheeks heat with slight embarrassment, but I finally feel comfortable enough to shake my head in honesty.No, it’s still not clicking for me.

There is no frustration, only a gentle smile and nod before she tries a completely new way of explaining.

In the middle of her statement, Ro pauses, realizing she doesn’t have enough clips to finish this particular problem, before reaching into her hair and pulling the two from her curls.

The motion is too similar to the pool, the clips the same as the ones I have stashed on my bedside table from the night she doesn’t remember; I like to look at them when I can’t sleep.

I rub at the ache in my chest, the edge of sadness that she remembers none of it too heavy to truly bat away. I’d give anything for one of those moments with her again, walls down, complete vulnerability and real affection.

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