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Without you,
The hours stretch
into suffocating days;
gasping through nights
My hand made a fist, crumpling the paper before I could read the rest, as the world suddenly felt airless.
Fuck, she knows…
I divided straight down the center: anxiety at being exposed, coupled with a strange sense of relief.
She knows.
But she slept with Connor.
Now a swirl of confusion battered me, a terrible suspicion making its way up through the storm.
“She read it,” I said slowly. “And?”
“And, well, it’s kind of funny, actually.” He coughed. “She thought I wrote it.”
“But you told her you didn’t,” I said, already knowing the answer.
“I kind of just…went with it.”
“Is that why she slept with you?” I asked. A pit of dread settled into my stomach. “Because she read that poem?”
It was one thing to write a couple of texts to help a friend out. Another if my words affected Autumn enough to convince her to get naked with that friend, to lie in his bed and share her body with him.
Connor shook his head. “Not entirely.”
“Partially? Fractionally?” My lip curled. “Give me a ballpark percentage.”
“I don’t know, it was like the…catalyst?” He held up his hands. “Let’s put it this way, it sure as hell didn’t hurt.”
I thought I was going to be sick. My jaw and fists clenched.
“So that’s why I’m here.” Connor gestured at the Creative Arts Building. “If I take this class and you help me out a little—”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Forget it.”
I turned to go and his hand gripped my shoulder again.
“What the hell is your problem?” Connor demanded, spinning me around. “Why are you being such a dick about this? Because she slept with me? I told you, your stupid poem wasn’t the only reason—”
“Isn’t it? Let’s examine the chain of events, shall we? You thought she was going to break up with you. She read the poem. She let you fuck her. Have I got that right?”
I started walking again and Connor followed.
“Hey. Asshole. I’m not completely helpless, you know. She likes me.”
“Good for you,” I said. “But don’t steal my shit again.”
