Page 4 of Lessons in Forgiving
I couldn’t possibly hand in one of the stray horoscopes he’d made me write as the only assignment that I still needed to graduate in a few months. That extra-curricular project was worth twenty-five percent of my final grade, and it would’ve been easy enough a year ago—when I was still getting article after article, and I hadn’t yet tarnished my journalistic reputation with one stupid mistake. But alas, it wasn’t last year anymore, and the piece of writing had to be from the current semester.
Unfortunately, in the last year Eddie had given me exactly three articles to write. All about what each star sign could expect that month. Absolutely nothing I could submit to be graded.
If they were to test my ability to go on coffee runs or make exceptional copies, though, I’d pass with flying colors.
“Eddie—” I tried again, which seemed to have been his last straw. He snapped.
“You don’t deserve it!”
While regret immediately seeped into his features, it didn’t really matter. I could tell he hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but his harsh tone hung between us now.
Eddie shook his head again. “I’m sorry, Paula. Really. After everything that’s happened, I just can’t give this one to you. It’s going to Lacy, as discussed.”
I think I might’ve flinched at the insinuation, his harsh words and that all-too-familiar name, before I shook myself out of it. “You’re not giving any of them to me, though. None. Nada.Niente. How am I supposed to graduate if you keep every viable topic to write about away from me?”
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closing. When he looked back at me, the trace of regret in his expression was gone, and he looked like a man who had made up his mind. Somehow, I knew it wasn’t in my favor.
“Don’t worry about that, okay? I’ll get you something soon. Just not this one, Paula.”
It’s the same excuse I’d heard a million times, but it didn’t sting any less. With graduation fast approaching, I wasn’t quite sure how much longer he could leave me hanging.
Eddie went back through the massive hardwood doors of the building that held theHall Beck Post’s offices. Which brought me back to realization number one.
I just chased my editor out of the building.
I groaned so loudly, he could’ve probably still heard it in his office a floor above. Because just like that, on a beautiful Friday afternoon, my career died. Again. Over before it even began. I hadn’t even made it out of the college paper!
If I couldn’t make it at theHBP, how was I supposed to succeed in the real world? Between real journalists? What was I supposed to say in job interviews when they’d inevitably ask about the huge gap of publications in my writing-resume?
Oh, that’s just Eddie’s fault. He rightfully wouldn’t give me anything good for a year because I messed up. Really, really badly. He just didn’t trust me anymore, but don’t worry about it!
My hands curled into fists at my sides before crossing on top of my head, and I halfheartedly started moving again. I took a deep breath, squeezed my eyes shut.
I’d run back and forth between this building and my place for deadlines and forgotten lunches so many times, I could walk itblindly. And I didn’t care half as much about how high the risk of running into a lamppost was.
I had bigger things to worry about.
Next week, I’d talk to Eddie again. Explain the situation, make my desperation clear…er. Although he’d essentially benched me for an entire year, as theHall Beck Post’s head editor, he was obligated to give me…something for that extracurricular project. And I wanted it soon, before deadlines might be too tight to—
“Eyes up.”
The familiar voice made the blood in my veins run cold. I froze, hoping and praying I might’ve misheard, but—“Or you might hurt someone.”
Undeniably, that was Henry Parker Pressley’s voice, coming from the direction I was heading in blindly.
My stomach lurched in recognition, and I missed one of my steps. So badly, I almost face-planted on the pebbled road. Right in front of my ex-boyfriend.
I caught my footing just in time to see our paths cross and for my cheeks to take on an embarrassing color I hoped he didn’t spot. Mortified—that being me—we passed each other, and he didn’t turn to look at me again. No smile. Nohi, how have you been? I miss you, Paula.
Just the teasing tone in his voice like we hadn’t not spoken in almost a year. My stomach turned at the rich lull in his voice, like we’d never broken up at all.
It took everything in me not to groan a second time.
Pull yourself together, estúpida.
I’d made it an entire year without running into him on campus. Without talking to him at all. My best friend had taken ourNo Contactvery seriously. And out of all the places, the Fine Arts and Communication building was the last place I’d expectedthat streak to end. However childish it sounded, this wasmylittle corner of campus. He could have the rest if he wanted to.
The business school. The Athletic Center named after his dad. The library and cafeteria if needed. Just not theHall Beck Post—or the building its office was in.
