Page 71 of Don't Leave
Not really.
I’ve arrived at the painful conclusion that I screwed up the best relationship I’ve ever had.
After my late-night dinner with Sammy, I decided to take a giant step back from the situation and focus on the reason I’m at Western in the first place.
Academics.
I’m pouring all my time and energy into my courses and trying hard not to dwell on Cole or Luke. Until I decided to pull back and get clarity, I hadn’t realized how much everything was spiraling out of control.
I think Dr. Thompson would be proud of me for doing what’s best for myself and seizing control of my life again. I miss her insightful comments and conversations. Once or twice, I dialedthe number to the counseling center before quickly chickening out and hanging up the phone.
Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at nine o’clock, I attend my Psych 201 lecture. When I arrive, Cole is never there. I know the exact moment he sneaks in because I get a little prickle at the nape of my neck. Even though I’ve caught glimpses of him around campus, it’s always from afar. Thankfully, I haven’t spotted him with Vanessa or Andrea.
Or Jackie.
Catching sight of him, even from a distance, feels devastating.
My heart lurches every single time.
Just like it is at this very moment.
My feel stumble to a halt as my hungry gaze slides over him. It’s not a surprise to find yet another girl at his side. I can’t tell who she is because she’s bundled up against the bracing November chill that sweeps through campus. He’s wearing a navy pea coat and has a dark beanie pulled low over his brow. Pieces of his dark hair stick out from beneath the tight knit fabric. My hands tighten at my sides. I miss sifting my fingers through his messy strands.
He couldn’t look any sexier if he tried. The girl he’s walking with must agree with the sentiment because she’s beaming up at him. They look like they’re deep in conversation as he says something before laughing. His dimples flash and my heart constricts because I remember what it felt like to have him look at me the same way.
Unable to watch the interaction for another moment, I swing away before hustling down one of the winding pathways. With my thoughts full of Cole, I don’t think about where I’m going, my next class, or all the things on my to-do list this afternoon.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to move on or get over him.
Even though it’s freeze-your-ass-off-cold, the sun is shining brightly. I blink and find myself standing outside the student counseling center. I try not to think about the irony of unconsciously finding myself outside Dr. Thompson’s office as I slump onto a bench.
I pull out my phone and realize that I have an hour before I need to be at the tutoring center for my shift. With any luck, my brain will be too consumed with equations, quadratics, and proofs to dwell on Cole.
After a long stretch of moment, someone settles next to me. I shift my body away, hoping that whoever it is will take the hint that I’m not interested in engaging in meaningless conversation.
At this point, I’d rather pop a vein.
I’m kidding.
Sort of.
“Cassidy?”
The soft voice has me whipping around until my gaze lands on the last person I expected to run into. Although, considering that I’m sitting outside where she works, maybe I should have. A burst of nerves flutter to life at the bottom of my belly.
“How have you been?” she asks.
My brows lift at the innocuous question. Of all the things I imagined her saying to me—I’m so glad you’re no longer dating my son, I never realized how fucked up you were, maybe you should consider transferring to another college—that wasn’t it.
I suck in a deep breath and try to get my neurons to fire. “Um…good.”
Her lips curve into a smile. It’s one filled with kindness. “I’m glad to hear that.”
I can’t stop thinking about how weird this feels.
Other than the unexpected meeting at Cole’s house and at the ice rink, I’ve never seen Dr. Thompson outside of her office. The fact that we’re sitting in broad daylight, on a campus bench likeit’s the most natural thing in the world, makes this all the more bizarre.
When it becomes obvious that I’m not going to pick up the conversational ball, she says, “I’ve been hoping you would make another appointment so we could talk.”
