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“What is hedoinghere?” I demand of Ellie for what feels like the hundredth time.
My first day of senior year, and I’m beyond angsty–not because of my choice of classes but who is in them. After giving me two years of stone-cold silence following our kiss before sophomore year, Cassio is suddenly everywhere.
How he was in three of my theater-related morning classes when he’s been an environmental science major for as long as I’ve known him is beyond me. Ellie seemed as baffled by his behavior as I am when we talked about it over lunch. But what really galls me is that he’s sat next to me in each class.
“Maybe you should just try asking him this time,” Ellie suggests lightly, and I scowl at her. “Or not,” she backpedals quickly.
“I tried talking to him. I tried every time I ran into him for, like, ayear. He wasn’t interested in letting me in then. Why should I have to make an effort now? I swear he’s doing this just to piss me off,” I gripe, crossing my arms and slumping in my chair as I look away from him, refusing to play into his stupid game.
“Look, I don’t know what really happened between you two, but seriously, I doubt he picked his classes just to irritate you,” Ellie reasoned.
“Then why is he inallof mine?”
I tried to ignore him this morning, stonewalling him in the same way he has me fortwo yearsnow. But that seemed an almost impossible feat when he kept cracking jokes and muttering comments under his breath that I desperately wanted to respond to.
Still, I did my best, refusing to meet his eyes or acknowledge him, even when he said my name. Because he’s well past the opportunity to make things right with me. I hate Cassio. I hate him because, at one point, he let me think we might have a special connection.
He took my heart that night he kissed me. And like a ruthless asshole, he tossed it over his shoulder and walked away. Leaving me at a loss for what I could have possibly done wrong.
“Ladies,” Cassio says in his silky voice, interrupting our conversation.
I can hear the smile lingering on his face, but I refuse to look.
“Hey, Cass,” Ellie says jovially, and I glare at her to make her betrayal clear.
It feels like she’s done a good amount of that over the past two years, though I’ve tried not to be bitter about the fact that she found love and I didn’t. While Lucca and Ellie seem to be going as strong as ever, I’ve learned to cope with the pain of Cassio’s initial rejection and the hurt and resentment that’s lingered since.
Of course, I haven’t been able to just be free of Cassio. To let him vanish into the sea of college faces. No, with his twin brother dating my best friend, I see Cassio’s face even if he’s not there–when I hang out with Ellie and Lucca on occasion.
Though Cassio’s rejection has even alienated me from my best friend, it seems. She spends most of her time with Lucca now, and seeing as Cassio doesn’t want to be with me, that means I’m the odd man out. Ellie and I still take as many classes together as we can. But we used to spend all our time together. Now, it’s a lot more me time.
My world has been flipped on its head for two years because of the one night I kissed Cassio Marchetti. And while his fleeting presence in my life rocked me to my very core, I have learned the painfully hard way that I mean nothing to him.
“Mind if I sit?” he asks, not waiting for an answer before dropping his bag and slumping into the chair beside me.
“I do, actually,” I snap, turning away from him.
“What? Do I smell or something?”
I catch him lifting his arm out of the corner of my eye so he can sniff. I want to tell him he does, that he should stop forcing me to endure him, but I can’t. In truth, the tantalizing scent of bergamot and vetiver calls to my nose, and I subconsciously take a deep breath.
Since I can’t bring myself to lie, I keep silent, refusing to meet his eyes. After Cassio gives himself a preliminary sniff test, he shrugs and turns his attention to his backpack.
“They were having one of those craft artist events down by the main student bookshop. Some cute, creative ideas going on there,” Cassio continues lightly as he digs inside his bag. “I saw this and thought of you, Bianka.”
Withdrawing a tiny box from his bag, he sets it lightly on the table in front of me. It looks like it might contain some sort of jewelry, and I’m painfully tempted to open it and see what’s inside. But he’s playing with me like I’m an old game he stumbled across and thought it would be entertaining to use for a day. I know it. He’s trying to find some way to get me to engage.
I stare down at the box coldly, unwilling to move my arms for fear I’ll fold to the temptation.
“Don’t you want to open it?” Cassio offers, leaning forward into my field of vision, his eyes dancing as his eyebrows rise in silent surprise.
I can’t take it anymore. I snap, my resentment flaring up in me with such force that I can’t stop myself from meeting his gaze.
It took me a while to hash out the reason for Cassio’s sudden disinterest in me. Ilya probably got to him. No other man has been brave enough to date me after meeting my brother, but I really thought Cassio was different. Hell, he kissed meafterhe heard my argument with Ilya about spending time with him and Lucca.
Maybe Ilya approached Cassio afterward. I’m sure the twins would never tell me if he had. Or maybe Cassio thought it wise to stay away but figured he might as well have a bit of fun with me–like he is today–since Lucca was making out with my best friend anyway.
I don’t know. And frankly, at this point, I don’t care.
