But is he with her right now?
The thought echoes in my mind, and I wish I could forget I ever saw them tonight.
“I think my mom knows too,” I blurt. “She came here and vaguely threatened his job. She wants his money.”
“Oh my God.” Sybil looks disgusted on my behalf. “What the hell?”
I fall quiet, trying to make sense of the jumbled-up thoughts in my head, but I can’t.
“Hey.” Sybil pokes my arm and offers me a soft smile. “I have an idea. Why don’t we get out of here this weekend? We can go check into a hotel room and have a spa day. I have my dad’s credit card.”
Normally, I would never even consider doing something so luxurious that I can’t pay for. But right now, I can’t think of anything else to save me from this black hole.
OUR WEEKEND SPA date turned into a chocolate and Netflix binging session, and by the time we return to campus on Monday morning, I feel five pounds heavier but a whole lot lighter too. After talking things through with Sybil, I’ve come to the decision that I need to avoid Sebastian until things calm down. And maybe, realistically, I just need to avoid him altogether.
That’s easier said than done when he won’t stop texting me. After hours of silence, I finally received a message from him just after midnight on Friday. He asked me where I was, and I didn’t respond. Then after about five minutes, I got another text. And another. The barrage of questions and demands started, and not only did I find them hypocritical, but I was too hurt to reply.
It seems childish now, but I can’t let go of this feeling of betrayal. He never mentioned who he was with or offered an excuse for not replying sooner. Yet he expects that courtesy from me if he doesn’t hear from me within minutes.
I turned off my phone that night and thought long and hard about our situation. Every time it feels like I’ve come to a decision, a different emotion comes up and drags me back to one unfaltering truth. I need him. I need Sebastian like I need air to breathe, and I don’t know how I can reasonably let him go. But I also don’t know how I can hold onto him with Louisa and my mother hot on our trail.
Winter break is fast approaching, and I need to focus on my studies. Next semester will be all about college applications and meet and greets and all the expectations that have been laid out before me. I’m already light years behind, considering half of my peers have applied for early admissions. But even as I panic about that, I don’t know why I’m still going down this path. I have nothing to prove to anyone anymore, yet I’m as lost as I’ve ever been.
When I get back to my dorm, I’m greeted by a glaring red note on my mirror, written in my lipstick.
What the fuck, Stella.
Immediately, my stomach flips as I consider that he was here, looking for me. And from the scattered contents of my book bag on the bed, it looks like he was here for a while. Did he go through my things? Was he trying to figure out where I was?
There isn’t time to debate it now. I only have twenty minutes to change and get to my first class. But I have an awful feeling as I plug my phone in and leave it to charge that I’ll definitely be facing Sebastian’s wrath today.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
SEBASTIAN
AFTER AN ENTIRE WEEKENDof radio silence from Stella, she has the audacity to trot into my class and sit down on Monday afternoon like nothing ever happened. With no regard to the fact that I’ve been losing my goddamned mind, she sits down at her desk and pulls out her journal and doesn’t even spare a single glance in my direction. Little does she know, her cold front is about to meet my desert storm.
“Stella LeClaire.” My voice slices through the classroom with the subtlety of a machete. “Why don’t you begin today. Tell us the implications of your findings on wealth inequality.”
She blinks up at me, clearly startled by my command, but rushes to retrieve her essay from the pink binder she carries in her backpack. Only, that assignment is missing, and I know this because it’s sitting on the desk in my office.
Her cheeks flush with color as she flips through the scattered mess of papers that she has never bothered to organize, another annoying fucking trait that has touched my last nerve.
“I’m so sorry,” she blurts. “I… I can’t seem to find it. But it was in here—”
“What did I tell you about coming to class prepared?” I snap.
Her eyes meet mine, and finally, she understands the gravity of what she’s done. “Don’t bother coming at all?” she answers hesitantly.
“That’s right.” I gesture to the door. “Now pack your things and go. There will be a seat in detention for you over the next two weeks.”
“Wait, Mr. Carter,” Sybil interjects. “It’s my fault.”
“This has nothing to do with you.” I dismiss her with a tone that warrants no argument and watch Stella sneak toward the door with a shadow of humiliation behind her. “Now is there anyone else who couldn’t be bothered to show up to class with their assignment today?”
“YOU’RE LATE.”
Stella offers me a defiant glare as she flings her backpack onto the desk in front of her. “So what are you going to do about it? Give me detention? Oh, wait, you already did that.”