"Yeah."
"How do you feel?" He asks.
"Terrified. Relieved. Like I'm about to vomit."
"That's normal." Marcus sits next to me. "What are you going to do now?"
"I don't know. Go on this trip. Be professional like I promised. Figure out the rest later."
"Or," Marcus suggests, "you could tell Ivy the truth. About your parents. About why you really did what you did."
"She won't believe me."
"Maybe not. But at least she'll know. At least you'll have tried."
He's right. I know he's right.
But the thought of telling Ivy everything about the ultimatum, the threat, the impossible choice and watching her decide it doesn't matter because I still chose wrong.
That's worse than her hating me for being an asshole.
The truth is, I was a coward. I let my parents control me. I chose the easy path of obedience over the hard path of protecting the person I loved.
That's not manipulation. That's just a weakness and I don't know if Ivy can forgive weakness.
October 15th arrives too quickly.
I'm at the van at 7:45 AM, earlier than necessary, because I'm pathologically unable to be late.
Ivy arrives at 7:58, professional in dark jeans and a blazer, her hair pulled back, her expression carefully neutral.
"Morning," I say.
"Morning."
We load our bags and get in the van. Six other project pairs are coming on this trip, twelve students total, plus Professor Hendricks as supervisor.
Ivy deliberately sits as far from me as possible. Takes a seat next to Riley, her study group friend.
Fine. I'll sit alone.
The drive to Boston is three hours. I spend it staring out the window, listening to music, trying not to think about the fact that I'm going to spend the next two nights in close proximity to the one person I want but can't have.
When we arrive at Harbor View Hotel, Professor Hendricks hands out room assignments.
"Remember, you're rooming with your project partners. This is a professional trip. I expect professional behavior."
Ivy's face goes pale. "We're sharing a room?"
"Each partnership pair has a room. Two beds," Professor Hendricks clarifies. "Is that a problem?"
"No," I say quickly. "No problem."
Ivy shoots me a look that could kill, but she doesn't argue.
We get our room key and head to the third floor. Room 312.
I unlock the door and we both stop in the doorway.