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LensBaby:[eggplant emoji] [rocket emoji] [party hat emoji]
that’s your advice?
LensBaby:*shrug*
[face palm emoji]
With the conversation disintegrating into emoji-level wisdom, I clicked out of my texts and thought about climbing into bed and sticking my head under my pillow. I had class in an hour and really didn’t feel like going. I felt like lying here, instead, until a solution magically presented itself to me.
That, alas, would not earn my degree. Puffing out my cheeks, I grabbed some clothes and headed to the shower to get ready. With any luck, none of the men would be around for me to kiss or leer at.
∞∞∞
An hour later I was sitting in class in a row about midway between the professor and the back of the class. “I’ve been asked to announce that there are several of you that have failed to check in with your thesis advisory board regarding proposal adjustments. I need the following students to use the online portal and set an appointment time, stat. Continued failure to do so will result in the docking of a letter grade for each day past this week.”
Shit.The professor began reading a list of names, but I didn’t need to listen. I knew my name was on it. I had missed my original meeting date and had forgotten to reschedule. Opening my phone, I scrolled to my linked calendar and arranged an appointment for the day after tomorrow.
The professor segued into a discussion of textual criticism and I zoned out, flipping idly from app to app with my phone on my lap. I had already studied it at Columbia and a skim of the reading before the test would be all that was necessary.
The Casanova app snagged my attention. I glanced at it from time to time, but it had been a little while since I’d read any of the messages sent in to Casanova. Some of them were the typical “my boyfriend broke up with me, how do I live” kind of thing. Others were hilarious, and I wasn’t sure how Casanova replied with a straight face. Like the girl who explained her boyfriend had recently come clean about being sexually attracted to Pokemon. She wasn’t sure if she should tell him his proclivities were embarrassing her or just be tolerant.
Tolerant, for sure.
The recent featured message caught my attention.
I hurt this chick. I hurt her, and I scared her. I don’t know which is worse. I meant for it to be one last effort to get her gone, get the temptation that is her far away from me for once and for all. But it backfired.
I stared at the screen, willing the words to make sense. If I was fanciful, or even just a little self-absorbed, I might think those words were about me. Galen had hurt me, and Galen had scared me, and Galen wanted me gone. It all fit.
Except perhaps for the temptation part. Because if it was Galen that had written to Casanova, he was saying he saw me not as someone he despised, but as a temptation he was finding it difficult to deny.
There was a little spot of warmth in my chest at the idea of that beautiful man finding me hard to resist.
I shoved my phone in my bag, irritated suddenly. If Galen was writing to Casanova because he felt guilty, he needed to talk to me, instead. Otherwise, he was like a little boy on the playground, pulling pigtails because he was too frightened of telling the girl he liked her.
My life was too complicated for children’s games.
∞∞∞
It was later, when I was leaving class and heading to the library, that inspiration struck. I didn’t like to play games, but what if I used Casanova to make that absolutely clear? I could write my own letter to Casanova. If the other message came from Galen, he would see and know exactly where I stood. If it wasn’t Galen, no harm, no foul.
The idea stayed with me as I arrived at the library and set myself up in a study carrel. Why not simply show him the app and ask if he wrote it? I wasn’t a timid person, but part of me shrank from doing so. I could see myself showing him the app and watching his face harden with that perpetual sneer. I could already hear the contempt in his voice.You thought I would do something like that? You thought Ilikedyou?
I knew, instinctively, that direct confrontation wouldn’t work well with someone as proud as Galen. It would only instigate a defensive reaction, mainly to avoid revealing hurt or embarrassment.
So, a letter it was.
I pulled my phone to me, opened the Casanova app, and began to type.
Chapter 29: Casanova
Dear Casanova,
I’m hoping you can help me.
I’m currently in a situation that is confusing the hell out of me. I’m living with three guys and despite everyone’s best efforts, I can’t help being attracted to them.
Them.
