Page 18 of In For a Penny
“What do you mean?”
“It’s complicated, but I applied here because I thought it was the next step to get to where I want to in life.”Personally and professionally, but he doesn’t need to know that. “But now that I don’t know what I even want or where I want to go, it’s like what’s the point of even being here? I thought maybe I could just ride it out since I actuallylikethe topics we would’ve been studying, but they changed the whole program structure. It’s not even the same curriculum we applied to! It’s like false advertising.”
I’m not going lie. I’m stressed and freaking out. We were told at orientation that the program had changed, but we were promised the change was not substantial. It seems pretty substantial to me, though. There is much less flexibility on what classes we can take, the core curriculum has changed, and the readings and topics are focused mainly on British history, despite the fact that over eighty percent of the student body are non-UK citizens.
“And I don’t know…” I say, shaking my head. “I’m just scared I’ve made the wrong choice here.”
Josh stares quietly at me, brows furrowed.
“I get it. I think you just need to give yourself more time to figure it out. Maybe you’re too hung up on the fact that your life and this program have changed and you’re not focusing enough on how that change can be a positive thing for your life,” he says with a gentle smile. “I think maybe you should just give this a little more time.”
I sigh. Josh is right. I need to give this a shot. I can’t just quit because I’m scared. Maybe I should just give this a try, at least for one semester, and see how the course progresses.
“You’re right,” I say after we’re quiet for some time. “But this class is still stupid, and I hate it.”
Josh runs a hand through his sandy-blond hair, laughing. “Dude. Calm down. Haven’t you ever heard about learning from history so that it doesn’t repeat itself?” He chuckles at my annoyed expression. “Here, look at it this way. Obviously, you would prefer to work on something within this century, but I think if we talk it out, you’ll get thewhy.”
He scooches closer, pushing the reading material to me, and I catch a whiff of a combination of a manly fruity scent and the comforting smell of what I think is Head & Shoulders. I take another deep breath and confirm that, yep, he uses Head & Shoulders.
Okay, calm down, weirdo.
“They probably want us to look at how the development of the TSR2 aircraft exemplified the processes of bureaucratic politics, okay? We just need to make a case for or against the development.”
I stare at him, wide-eyed. “How the hell did you get that?” I ask.
“It’s on the syllabus, dummy.”
I snort. “Ooh, look at you, reading the syllabus, being all practical,” I say, shoving Josh lightly on the shoulder.
“Yeah, it definitely helps with schoolwork if you check what the hell you’re supposed to be doing with the material they give you. Makes things easier,” he says sarcastically, laughing at me.
“I wish there were a syllabus for life to prepare you for the stuff it throws at you, you know?” I sigh involuntarily. “Like, ‘Years zero to ten: blissfully happy, and you don’t know it. Years eleven to twelve: awkward tweenage years, weird shit happening to your body. Years thirteen to eighteen: bullies and mean girls. Years eighteen and onwards: general disappointment in humanity and lowering of expectations.’”
“Wow.” He leans back. “Cynic, much? You don’t really believe that, do you?”
I laugh bitterly. I fold my arms across my chest. “I mean, kinda—yeah. It’s hard to trust people when they keep letting you down. Like,constantly. At a certain point, you just gotta cut your losses and come to terms with the fact that people are flawed, and you just need to protect yourself because most of them suck.”
“Huh. Is this cynicism brought on by a certain person in particular? A recent event, perhaps?” He narrows his eyes at me.
I know what he’s getting at. I know what I sound like—a bitter, self-righteous bitch who has been wronged.
If the shoe fits…
“Maybe.” I purse my lips, looking away.
He isn’t wrong. Lately, I’ve been getting a sneaking suspicion, a sixth sense, that Austin has been seeing someone new—or at least dating around. He’s been much more active on social media—both on his accounts and other people’s. People I don’t know are commenting on his photos and showing up on his stories. New people in his life could mean a new group from someone he’s dating? I’ve tried not to overthink it, tried not to be a jealous weirdo, but it’s proven to be a bit more difficult than usual.
I’ve seen a couple of my old girlfriends pop up in the comments section, so hopefully, they’re keeping tabs. They would let me know if he’s started seeing anyone seriously. But still.
Although, to be fair, it isn’t all Austin’s fault. There are other people and experiences that have added to my cynicism.
“Listen…” Josh takes a deep breath. “No one gets disappointment better than I do, okay? But noteveryonein life is going to disappoint you. You can’t set people in your life into that default mode. It’s not fair for anyone. Everyone has flaws. No one is perfect. Not even you.” He smirks at the last part. “You have to cut people some slack.”
“I don’thaveto do anything, but I get what you’re saying,” I say. “I would still much rather be pleasantly surprised than be let down by one more person. You get it, right? You recently went through a breakup and didn’t even see it coming.”
He nods. “I get where you’re coming from, but you’re absolutely wrong. My breakup with Kat was even worse than you know, but I’m still hopeful. I still think that there’s someone out there for me. And I don’t automatically cringe at the idea of getting close to someone else again like you seem to do.” He points at me, calling out my body language. I’ve shifted away from him, scooching my chair to the other side of the generic laminate table without me even noticing.
I look away, embarrassed. I feel uncomfortable and transparent, like he’s able to pinpoint directly what I’m feeling and thinking with ease. He’s figured me out without trouble, and I don’t like how he reads me so easily, so I try to change the topic of conversation to focus on him. “So, what made your breakup even worse than what you told us that other night?”
