"Baby!" I hear, along with a loud knock on the door. I gradually pick myself up from the bathroom floor, wincing in pain. How did I end up falling asleep here? "Juls, open the door," I hear again. This time, I let out a sigh and make my way to my feet. My dress from last night is still on, the zipper undone from the previous evening. I glance at my reflection in the mirror above the vanity. Red eyes, tangled hair, a brutal hangover with a pounding headache. As I turn my attention back to the door, a mix of emotions wash over me. A significant part of it is anger, actually mostly anger. But there's also a trace of sadness that makes me want to cry all over again. I need some time to think and space away from him. Ever since we started whatever this is with Kent, he's always been so preoccupied. I clung to him whenever he paid me attention. My every thought revolved around him, and I'm starting to believe that's why things keep going awry for me. The truth is Kent doesn't reveal e
"You and Piper were in a weird situation where you got drunk and fooled around." He keeps repeating, "I've never actually slept with her," as if that's the part driving me insane. I shake my head and ask, "So?" "The specifics of this contribute to maybe 15% of my anger," I almost whisper due to my exhaustion. "What upsets me is that you, once again, concealed something from me, hoping I wouldn't discover it." "When the heck have I ever not told you something?" "Where do I even start? I was oblivious to your family until I was at their house. Your sister remains an enigma, and the only topic you've been entirely truthful about is that football injury! Kent, I'm an attentive listener, but relationships require honesty from both sides. You said you were going to work on opening up." "I'm working on it," I state as he presses me, but he remains unconvinced. "I didn't want to learn like that," I whisper. "After you shared such a significant piece of information, you just fell asleep.
I don't remember the last time I felt this empty. Back when he used to tease me and roll his eyes, this emptiness wasn't there. Now, all I sense is a kind of void. I can't go on without him. I did this to myself, but it was the right decision. I do care about him, and every time he walks into a room, I feel that pull in my chest that's been there for months. But I'll always be firm about what I won't tolerate. I can't concentrate on this research opportunity with Kent, and I just had another fight. If I want to attend graduate school next year, I need to be wise about my choices. Kent can re-enter my life after I've had some time to sort out my feelings. Most of my packing is done. I got a dorm room at Northwestern for this, which was more affordable than renting a place for a month, so I only had to bring my clothes and personal items. Today, I had to go back to the apartment to retrieve the rest of my stuff. I didn't text Kent, thinking he was still in New York. It's been three
It's probably Mark or Kyle; they might be back early for the new term. I'm unsure how to explain it to them – "Hey, your best friend and I broke up just when you were getting used to us dating. It's probably going to ruin the apartment vibe for a while. Sorry." "Hello?" A pleasant, warm, deep voice echoes, and my heart skips a beat. It's him, not Kyle or Mark. Stay calm, Juls. You can handle this. You'll only be in the apartment for a few hours, and then you'll have a month to clear your head. "Who's here?" he inquires as he approaches down the hall, and I take a deep breath. When he sees that my room's door is open with light spilling out into the corridor, he halts. I hear him slowly and hesitantly moving closer to the door, and my heart races. Even though we haven't seen each other in days, I can't seem to control my infatuation. I stammer, "H-hi," and he clears his throat. "I-I thought you were leaving today," he says, exhaling in a way that almost pushes him against the hall
It has been quiet for a long time. We've just been lying here in bed sheets and staring at the ceiling. I've been trying not to roll onto his chest and fall asleep. I can't decide what to do because I don't want to leave, but I also don't want to talk first. I hear him ask quietly, "Are you okay?" and I nod. I whisper, "Yeah," and fidget with the bed sheets. The more I think about how good that was, the harder it is for me to be objective. A lot of thoughts are swirling through my mind. I wish I hadn't done that, but I'm still glad I did. There are many questions about what to do next, and even more about him and his thoughts. I mumble, "I...I need to finish packing." "Then I need to go home and pack the car." I slowly get up. My body aches, but I try to ignore it as much as possible. I gasp when I feel a hand grasp my arm. He whispers as he sits next to me, "Don't go. Please don't go." "Kent, I need to." "Juls, don't run away from this. Stop running away from me. Half the time
"When Cali turned twelve, she went to school in London, and I stayed in the city and went to a private school there. We didn't see each other much as kids because we all wanted to be far apart," he said, as I rested my cheek on his chest. "When I was fourteen, my dad told me to join a club or talk to the dean at Dartmouth. At the time, I didn't even know if I wanted to go to college." I asked, "Did you ever apply?" He shook his head. "Never," he said softly. "Really, never," I replied. "Did you consider it?" He whispered, "No, I never wanted to be like my dad. That was my biggest fear. When I was a senior, I applied to a few schools. Brown and Michigan were two of them. All I cared about was football, and it was all mine. I didn't do it for my parents; I did it for myself." I whispered, "I'm sorry," and he nodded. "I had to choose Brown, but I was in a wheelchair for months. Once school started in the fall, I was fine, but I had to go to physical therapy all the time," he reminde
"You should head home, Juls," I hear a voice, and when I look up from my work, Adrian stands over me. "I will, but first I need to finish my paragraph," I reply with a smile. One of the few places at Northwestern with a microform reader is the Early Modern department, where I've been working on this project for a while. Our team is pretty small. Doctor Elliot and his Master's student Alyssa are leading the project, with five of us assisting. We all attended prestigious schools and were chosen to help. I was there, along with Bianca from Harvard, Miles from Stanford, and Adrian and Pike, both from Northwestern. Most of the time, it's a good mix of people. Doctor Elliot wanted a diverse team to assist with this project. We all studied Early Modern Studies, History, or Anthropology, but we come from different backgrounds and have different experiences. I must admit, though, that it seems like everyone else's past and life have more wealth than mine. Most of them are renting accommod
I hear a knock on Kent's bedroom door at his end, and he yells for the person to come in. I'm puzzled when I see Abby entering; those two don't usually hang out. Kent also appears confused. "Sorry to bother you, Kent. Kyle mentioned you took my intro to business course in your first year, and I was wondering if you still had your notes?" she asks, and he clears his throat. "They're on my laptop," he tells her, and she nods, her gaze drifting toward me. I push the dinosaur out of the frame. Her face transforms, and her eyes widen as she walks up to what seems to be Kent's desk. "Is that Juls?" she exclaims. "Hey, Abby," I say, feeling a bit shy, and she nearly has a heart attack on the other end. "Why are you and Kent FaceTiming? You've been too busy to call me more than once a week!" she says, looking perplexed. "Kent, I thought you were calling home every night. You said there was a family emergency, and... What's going on?" "Calm down," Kent urges, noticing her increasing agita