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I knew love wasn’t real.
Until Whitney got out of that booth.
I slammed a ten-dollar bill on the table and walked out to the car.
I couldn’t look in her direction for a long time. We exited the highway and drove into Gatlington without a word passing between us. It wasn’t until we pulled into the alley behind the bookstore that I heard her take a single, pained breath and turned to her, watching a tear roll down her cheek.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
I reached over, wiping the tear away, letting my fingers linger on her skin as she closed her eyes and leaned into my touch.
But the moment broke like fragile glass and shattered us.
And then she was gone.
Chapter 23
Whitney
“I DID MISS THE FOOD.” Jessica sat her tray down next to mine in the commons, her plate loaded with fresh fruit and pastries. “Mom makes the biggest, greasiest breakfast every morning. I swear I gained ten pounds over break.”
I smiled a bit at the thought of Jessica’s parents.
“You, on the other hand, look like you’ve lost weight, Whitney,” she prodded, forking a strawberry into her mouth. “What’s your secret?”
“Stress,” I deadpanned, then gave her a genuine smile. I’d felt like absolute garbage all weekend as the students and faculty returned. I’d spent most of the time in my apartment reevaluating my life and hadn’t eaten anything until now. Even then, I wasn’t hungry. My stomach felt like it was tied in dozen of little impossible knots. “I’m changing my course of study.”
“What?” Her cheeks were puffed with food as she looked over at me in shock. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not going to pursue a masters in sociology anymore,” I admitted, chasing a grape around my plate with my fork. “I talked to my advisor this morning, and I’m switching to a Master’s in Fine Art.”
Jessica was quiet for a moment, her eyes searching mine as I pretended to investigate a piece of melon.
“I think that’s fantastic!”
“You do?” I met her eyes, my chest heaving with relief.
“I’ve been wondering why you keep pursuing sociology knowing you’re not going into something like social work or development. Fine arts? With your undergraduate to back it up? Hell, you could go to Oxford or Cambridge for a doctorate and go right into researching all of the weird old shit you love.”
My mouth quirked into a smile. For the first time since arriving back to campus on Friday, I felt like I could breathe again, like the tension roped throughout my body could finally uncoil. My shoulders relaxed, and I leaned back, popping the melon into my mouth.
“I still have to TA next semester, of course, but I’ll be taking a double course load on top of it to make up for the fine arts classes I missed this semester.”
“Well, it’s not like you’ve never filled your schedule to the point of only having an hour or two sleep each night,” she replied pointedly, sipping from her latte. “Do you know who your TA assignment is yet?”
“No, I doubt I’ll know until right before the spring semester. It’ll be undergrad, I know that much. So anthro, maybe? Sociology...” I trailed off.
Jessica’s eyes glinted. “Professor Ellis?”
“No, I doubt he needs a TA. I don’t think he’d take one if they offered. He’s... He’s...”
Jessica tilted her head as I fought for words.
“He doesn’t need help. My help, especially.”
“Hmm... Things not go well over break?”
“What do you mean?”
