Definitely, Maybe in Love (22 page)

Chapter 28

Masen didn’t even wait for the first person to stand up after he’d ended class. “Spring,” he said. “Come see me.”

Lilah’s eyes shot my way but I didn’t react, not giving her the satisfaction. Today in class was the first time I’d seen her since I found out—

Well, anyway.

“Where’s the rest of it?” my professor asked when I got to his desk. He held out the twelve-page outline of my thesis. The third draft.

I was about to ask him what he meant, but why hedge?

“That’s all of it. I believe I’ve touched on the points we talked about last time,” I said, trying to sound like the expert I claimed to be, but my legs were shaking.

“Section nine,” he said, flipping to the end page. “You alluded to the point but it’s completely vague.” He took off his glasses. “This is the crux here, you see?” He pointed at it. “The whole argument of your theory funnels down to this: In the long run, over, say, a decade,
is
land development detrimental or beneficial? And why? You’ve posed this question along the way, but here you have to answer. Section nine is where your new angle should really come into play.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m still tweaking that part.”

He lifted his bushy brows. “Still? I thought you had most of the body written. Your final deadline is three weeks before the end of semester. In two months.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” I said, my turtleneck feeling hot and strangly. I didn’t have the guts to tell him that my research was done. My notes were typed up. What he held in his hand was all I had. Foolishly, I thought I’d get away with it. For the last few months, I hadn’t been as into my research as I’d been in the fall, and I’m sure that showed.

“We talked about this before the break,” he said. “You promised me you were getting back on track.”

“I know.” I nodded vigorously. “I was—I
am
.”

“I’ll give you one more chance to finish a complete outline before I approve the topic with the committee,” Masen said. My stomach hit the floor. I thought he’d gotten the thesis committee’s stamp of approval months ago. “Otherwise”—he passed me my paper, the top page stained with a coffee ring—“I’m afraid I’ll have to give you a fail.”

My mouth fell open. Wasn’t it only back in September that we’d talked publication? A few months later, he’d said what an excellent job I’d been doing on the new version of my thesis.

And now I was on the brink of the first fail in my life.

I assured Masen with everything in me that I would fix it, truly this time, whatever it took, and that I’d have the new outline—the final draft!—on his desk Monday morning. That was in five days.

Before I’d exited the classroom, I was visualizing that last section, moving the different parts around in my head. There was a lot of great information there, but there were holes, pretty significant ones that I couldn’t fill myself. I knew only one person who could help.

I walked outside and sat on a bench, other students rushing past on their way to class, oblivious to my internal struggle. The bells of Hoover Tower chimed out the noon hour.

I didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, I could not get an F on my sustainable living research paper, not while there was a breath left in my body. On the other hand, I couldn’t do it, couldn’t imagine the scenario of picking up the phone and…

My mind was whirling, thinking up any and every possible solution, but I slowly realized I had no other choice. It was either
that
or fail. Zombie-like, I pulled out my cell and scrolled to the last time he’d called me back in December.

It rang once before rolling to voicemail. Actually, it was one of those half-rings, meaning his phone was off or he was on another call. My mouth went dry when I heard his voice asking me to leave a message. I closed my eyes and began to speak.

He didn’t call back or confirm in any way, but I knew he would show, because I knew he was free tonight. I knew this because we’d already made plans to meet. After I rushed up the stairs, I nearly fainted when my phone pinged, reminding me of our originally scheduled meeting on the top floor of the Meyer Library. The room behind the stacks. The one he told me had a lock on the door. I was fifteen minutes early.

Henry was already there.

He sat at the table, head bowed, just finishing writing on a piece of yellow notebook paper. He tore that page off the pad and placed it on top of a stack of other printouts beside his laptop. He must have heard me, because he looked up.

“Hi,” I said, not quite able to meet his eyes. “Thank you for coming.”

“I figured you must be pretty desperate to call me,” he said, speaking down at the table. His tone wasn’t completely chilly. “And you’re welcome.” He pulled out the chair beside him. I walked around the table and sat.

“Looks like you’ve been here a while,” I observed conversationally. “I hope you didn’t skip a class.”

“I don’t really have to sit in on my classes this semester,” Henry said. “They’re all recorded and archived online. I’d rather be there in person, but it’s not necessary. A few weeks ago, I considered doing the rest of the semester remotely.”

“From a castle in Switzerland?” I couldn’t help saying, hoping to lighten the mood. I was relieved when he smiled.

“Maybe.” He turned to face me. “But then I decided to stay around here.”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer, but he kept his eyes steadily on mine. “Anyway,” he finally said, “this is probably what you’ll need.” He slid the stack of loose papers toward to me. “You can read over those and if you have any questions, we can talk about it.”

“Thanks,” I said. But I didn’t want to sit there and read to myself. I wanted to get into one of our classic debates. I wanted him to push my buttons and challenge my opinions until I got so impassioned that I wrestled him to the floor, pinned his shoulders down and—

“I’ve got my own reading to do,” he said, interrupting my runaway fantasy. “So let me know if you have a question.”

I nodded, wiped my palms on my jeans and stared down at the neat stack of papers. I read for a while, trying very hard to concentrate. A group of guys walked past the room and stopped right in front of the open door, having an animated and rather filthy discussion about the busty redhead working the circulation desk.

Henry scraped back his chair and walked to the door, giving the guys a look before pulling the door closed. His hand lingered on the knob and I couldn’t help noticing how his thumb brushed along the protruding lock button. When my gaze moved to his face, he was watching me. Slowly, steadily, my temperature started to rise, thinking of what we might be doing at that very moment…if only I hadn’t damaged my relationship with the one man I wanted to trust. If only.

“This floor is usually pretty deserted,” I observed, trying to keep myself in my chair.

“That’s why I chose it.” A shadow crossed his face and he dropped his gaze. “And it’s got the best vending machines. Hershey bars.” As he returned to his seat, I could almost catch a tiny glimmer in his eyes. Maybe he was also thinking about that chocolate bar we’d shared beside the campfire…barely a week ago.

“Henry,” I couldn’t help saying, though I had no idea how to continue.

He’d been typing something on his laptop, but turned to me. I could see the gold flecks in his eyes and the tiny freckles on his nose, the ones I’d traced with my finger while he’d hummed in my ear. I’d been so relaxed with him, so at peace…yet out-of-control,
free
of control in the most spectacular way.

My sudden need was so surprising, it almost scared me. But was it temporary? Would I forgive him now and resent him later? The thought of doing that to either of us made me physically ill. I wanted to trust him, wholly, so very badly. I wanted him like I’d never wanted anything in my life.

Maybe I wasn’t ready to act on that, but didn’t I owe it to both of us to say something? Talking…that used to be what we were good at.

“Henry,” I repeated, licking my dry lips.

He lowered his hands from the keyboard. “Yes?” He tilted his head, brows bent. “What’s—” Before either of us could continue, his eyes flashed to my cell sitting face-up on the table, ringing with an incoming call. My stomach turned to ice when a thumbnail-sized picture of Alex’s face appeared on the screen.

I glanced at Henry, who was staring at it. A second later, he closed his laptop and scooted back his chair. “I’ll let you answer,” he said, not looking at me.

“Wait.” I grabbed my phone and silenced the ringer.

“If you have questions about that,” he said, glancing down at the papers before me then walking to the door, “you can email.”

“Henry.” I held up my cell as evidence of…something. “It’s not what you think.” Right as the words left my mouth, the phone began ringing again. Henry’s dark eyes glared at the face pointed directly at him.

“Unbelievable, Spring,” he muttered, his tone angry yet detached. I’d never heard him speak like that before.

“What?” I flipped my phone over and looked at its face. It was Alex again.

We stared at each other until finally Henry clenched his jaw, opened the door and left. I watched him stride all the way across the room then round a corner toward the stairs. When I was conscious enough to realize that my phone was still ringing, I cocked my arm and threw it against the wall as hard as I could. It smashed apart, leaving a dent in the wall.

“Frack,” I yelled, slumping into my chair.

…

With back-to-back exams and a paper due, I couldn’t make it to the Apple Store for three days. I chose a white iPhone this time and one of those ultra-protective cases, as insurance for the next time I had the urge to hurl a two hundred dollar device against a concrete wall. I was dying to get home and charge it, feeling a little out of touch with the world.

I plugged it into my laptop then laid face down on my sheepskin rug. After a few minutes, I heard bleeps and chirps. I rolled over and grabbed my phone, watching the numbers of new emails appear on the screen. And one new text.

I sat up.

Tonight. Meet me at the library. Midnight. You know where. Please come, Spring.

The text had been sent an hour after he’d walked out of that study room…three days ago.

A tiny primal scream escaped from my throat as I stumbled to my feet, grabbing a jacket as I dashed from my bedroom. I’d had to run across campus plenty of times, but I think this sprint broke all my records. When I skidded around the corner, my heart tanked, finding the study room in the back corner dark and empty. Of course I didn’t expect him to still be there after three days, but I had to check. I leaned against the doorway and pulled out my phone, sliding my fingers down the face, not knowing what I should write back to him, but knowing I must.

Sorry
,
my fingers raced.
Phone died, just got your msg. I’m at the lbry now. Can you meet?

Send.

I stared at the two words until they spun like a Ferris wheel. I needed to sit down before my knees gave out, so I walked into the dark room and slid into the chair Henry had used three days ago. There was no new writing on the whiteboard and the trashcan appeared untouched, pieces of my busted phone still in the carpet. The room probably hadn’t been occupied since our meeting.

I rested my elbows on the table and held my head, breathing in the smell of old books, dusty carpet, and the faintest hint of spicy aftershave…although that was probably my imagination.

When I opened my eyes, I caught a glimpse of something on the chair beside me, the one I’d used the last time I was here. I scooted the chair back to find a few sheets of yellow notebook paper neatly folded in half. No name on it, as if it was someone’s leftover trash.

But I knew better.

I grabbed the pages, five in all, flipped on the light and began to read.

Chapter 29

Julia lowered the pages of yellow paper and stared at me. “Alex did…
this
?”

I nodded, fingering my pillow case.

“It’s almost unbelievable.” She glanced over her shoulder, like she feared we might be overheard. But we were alone in my bedroom. Door closed, ladder reeled in. “Do you think it’s true?”

“It has to be,” I said. “For Henry to divulge
this
, especially about his sister.” I gestured at the three pages of his note in her hand, the pages she’d just read about his history with Alex Parks, the ones I’d read a dozen times since finding them the night before.

The other two pages of the note—the ones regarding Julia and Dart—were tucked in the back pocket of my jeans. Julia knew nothing about them, and I wasn’t sure when I should tell her or
if
I should tell her. I hadn’t told her anything about Dart yet.

Not even a week had passed since I’d returned home from spring break with the knowledge that Henry’d had a hand in their breakup. I’d read his explanation in the letter several times, but it still galled me. It was either a colossal misunderstanding (which I did
not
believe in) or Henry Knightly was a terrible judge of character and a huge buttinsky. Though that was a bit implausible, too, I had to admit.

“You’re sure he’s talking about Alex?” Julia asked. “He didn’t use any name in the letter but yours.”

“I’m positive. He left it in a study room where we were supposed to meet. I’m not surprised he was cryptic. He knew that I’d know who he was talking about.”

Julia frowned. “So you think Alex is capable of what Henry says?”

It took exactly two seconds for me to consider. “Absolutely. Even when we were hanging out last September, something about him rubbed me the wrong way.” I took the pages and held them up. It was like I needed to repeat the details aloud one last time. “The story about Henry he’s been shooting around, he twisted the facts. They both admitted they used to be really close friends in high school, but Henry did not nark on Alex for cheating. Alex was about to flunk out and got caught stealing files off Henry’s computer. That’s why he got expelled.”

“And blamed Henry for not lying for him,” Julia added.

“I don’t know how anyone can be so ballsy, telling flat-out lies. And now, to know he did
that
…” I passed her the three pages in case she needed a refresher.

“Took off with Henry’s fifteen-year-old sister and got her pregnant, just to get back at him,” she completed for me.

I winced at her words, picturing what I thought Cami Knightly might look like as a fifteen-year-old, three years ago, going through one of the worst things a young woman possibly could, and then giving up a baby she was never meant to have.

Julia took in a shuddery inhale, as if she was thinking the same thing.

“According to Henry’s letter, that was the beginning of his pattern,” I said. “And he would know, he’s known Alex for years
and
his M.O. He takes girls—after he severely impairs them, or finds them severely impaired—to some, I don’t know, some honeymoon cabin at the beach. It’s date rape but on steroids. Sleeping with girls either too young or too wasted to know what they’re doing, then bragging about never using protection. What kind of sicko does that?”

“I heard that around campus,” Julia admitted, tugging at her hair. “But I just couldn’t believe it.” She’d grown thinner the last few months, paler, too.

We sat on my bed and talked for another hour, dissecting the words of the letter that I had practically memorized.

“When I think of what Henry’s family’s been through…” I said, feeling queasy all over again. “And I’m sure my hanging out with Alex hurt him, too.”

“How were you supposed to know?” Julia said. “Did Henry breathe one word of it to you before now?”

“I think he tried,” I admitted. “But I wouldn’t listen.” I fell back on the bed and flung an arm over my eyes. “Read me the bottom of the last page,” I requested.

“Are you sure?” I moved my arm long enough to give her a look. She cleared her throat. “‘Spring.’ He has very nice penmanship, doesn’t he?”

I shot her another look.

“‘Spring,’” she began again, reading the end of Henry’s letter. “’You are the most intelligent, talented and resolute person I have ever known. Your loyalty to your friends and your absolute sense of self overwhelms me. As I’ve sat in this room, waiting for you to arrive and then realizing you’re not going to, I’ve taken stock of the situation, and this is what I’ve come away with: I want you to know how much of a pleasure it was to have had you in my life. You changed me, Spring. Know that, if nothing else. Know that you made me smile and trust and see the future like I never have. Wherever you go in life and whatever causes you choose to undertake will be fortunate to have you. I wish you great success with wherever life takes you.’”

I felt tears clinging to the corners of my eyes as I stared up at the ceiling.

“It sounds like a good-bye,” Julia said, folding the pages.

“It was.” I sniffled. “That last night, he told me he was thinking about doing the rest of the semester online. My text to him bounced back, so either he’s somewhere too remote for his cell to get reception, or it’s disconnected.” I rolled over. “He talked about Switzerland and Tahiti and he has all the money in the world, so who knows where he is.”

“I’m sorry,” Julia whispered, stroking my arm.

I looked at her, at her sad smile. “How are you doing, bunny?”

“Better, I think.” She didn’t sound all that convincing. “Really.” She slid back against the wall, pulled her long legs into her arms and rested her chin on her knees. “I’m over Dart. I’ve moved on.”

“That’s good,” I said, not knowing what else to say. I still wasn’t sure if I should tell her everything I knew. If she claimed she was over Dart, would that help now? I felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that I was lying to one of my best friends.

I rolled onto my knees and sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed. “Things were pretty intense there for a while,” I said. “Between you and Dart, I mean.”

“Yeah.” She ran her fingers down the side stitching of her pink sweatpants. “It was intense.”

“I didn’t know how to help you,” I admitted, trying to express the proper sentiment but knowing I was falling short. “I mean, I didn’t know what to say. Girls handle losing their virginity in different ways. I was really worried that with Dart being your first, you would flip out when he left.”

“I did flip out,” she said, her lips tipping into a tiny smile.

“Yeah, you did,” I agreed. “Maybe I expected you to flip out even more.”

“Well, there’s always tomorrow,” she added with another smile. A moment later, though, it dropped and she exhaled. “I still don’t know what happened. Something must’ve went wrong, right? We were so close, so perfect and then…” She broke off and bit her thumbnail. “Not even Anabel’s advice helped me keep him.”

I sat up. “What did Anabel tell you to do?”

“At first she told me to be all sexy with him. You saw what she gave me for Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah,” I said, remembering that black lacy whatever in the corner of her suitcase.

“It was too embarrassing. I didn’t want to
pretend
to be someone like that, even to get close to Dart.”

“Someone like Anabel, you mean?”

She nodded. “A few days before we all left for Christmas, I talked to her again.”

I couldn’t help groaning. Julia must’ve been truly desperate to keep going back to our promiscuous roommate for romance advice. I wished I could’ve helped her back then, but I was even more clueless.

“She told me to reel back,” Julia continued. “That to really hook a man, body and soul, I should be cold and distant. Give it to him then take it away. Brigitte Bardot, she kept telling me to Brigitte Bardot.”

“That French model from the fifties?”

“She showed me pictures of her all pouty and frowny. She looked like a snob to me, but, I don’t know, that’s what Anabel said to do, so…”

“So that’s what you did,” I said weakly, feeling for those other two pages of Henry’s letter hidden in my back pocket. It was as if the printed words were burning into my skin, yelling at me to listen as I replayed them in my mind:

“Last year, my roommate was engaged, but his fiancée cheated on him. When it all came out, she told him she’d never loved him, that it was some kind of bet. I don’t know the whole story, but I witnessed firsthand the devastation it caused. You know my friend as a pretty cheerful guy, but that person was gone for a long time. As his best friend, it was hard to watch. When he started dating your roommate so soon after, I admit, I wasn’t behind it 100 percent. But it was his life to live. She was over at our house a lot, which I didn’t mind; I thought she was a sweet girl, and she made him happy. Maybe a week before the winter break, I couldn’t help noticing that she seemed like a different person, less talkative, more withdrawn, even a little rude to him. At first I wrote it off as final exams stress, but one night she was over and I heard her talking on the phone. Someone was coaching her, telling her how to act. Maybe I’d become too protective, but it infuriated me to hear what she was planning on doing. It wasn’t fair that someone was messing with my friend again. A few days later we were leaving for winter break. He and I drove together to the airport and I told him what I’d overheard. I told him his girlfriend was playing him. What he did after that, I don’t know exactly, but I do know he wasn’t ready to go back to Stanford and live across the street from her. I’d do anything for someone I care about, so I chose to move away from campus, too.”

I heard a ringing in my ears, and my hand was shaking when I held it to my forehead. I almost couldn’t breathe, knowing what I knew now. It made sense. Henry was right, he was only thinking of his friend, trying to help. And I’d yelled at him, wouldn’t listen, didn’t believe him when he’d tried to explain.

My mind was going numb. I stared at Julia’s lowered eyes, wondering if I should come clean about everything. But would it do any good at this point? Dart was still gone. It might make everything worse.

Julia slid off the bed and stood, peering at herself in the mirror. “A few weeks ago, I was really lonely. I missed Dart so much and…” She tucked her hands under her arms, turning away from her reflection. “I…I got so angry at him. He was my first, ya know? It was supposed to be special for
both
of us, right?”

“Um, right,” I offered, trying to follow along. I felt so sorry for Julia. Heartbroken for her. But a corner of my heart stung for Henry now, too. He thought he’d done the right thing, even if that meant hurting his best friend. As I gazed at Julia, I understood exactly how he must have felt.

“But then I was thinking,” Julia continued, “if Dart could just up and leave like that, I guess it wasn’t so special after all.” She kicked the metal bed frame, her voice sounding more cynical than I’d ever heard, and bitter, too. “I was wondering, seriously, what’s the big deal? It’s just sex, right? But I’d built it up to be this huge monumental event, when it was basically like I was getting it over with. If it’s not special, I should walk to campus and bring some random guy home.”

My spine stiffened. This did not sound like Julia. Frankly, it sounded like Anabel. “But you won’t, right?”

She scoffed, that cynical tone still hanging on. “I’d never have the guts. Maybe I should call Alex.” She laughed darkly. “He’s got the experience and I know he’ll—”

“Julia!” I cut her off. “Don’t even joke about that.”

She blinked, as if coming out of a trance. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. Of course not…not Alex.”

“Good,” I said. “Because I can’t have two reckless roommates. Anabel got kicked out of a bar last week.” I reached for her hand, pulling her to sit beside me. “I need you to be my sensible one.”

Julia smiled, a real one this time. “I will,” she said, but then her posture sagged. “I still get sad sometimes,” she admitted. “Very sad.”

“What can I do?” I asked, feeling an ache in my throat.

“Nothing. Just…thank you for being here, for being such a good friend to me through all of this.”

Now was my turn to move my eyes away. I knew I’d been too wrapped up in my own drama the past few weeks to give her any real comfort. I still didn’t feel like I should tell her what I knew about Dart. Not now. I didn’t want her to flip out all over again, especially if she considered a good remedy for her blues to be picking up casual sex as a hobby.

“You have,” Julia insisted when she saw me turn away. She reached out and lifted my chin like a mother would. “And now, I want to be a friend to
you
.” She stared straight at me, as if she knew I was withholding information. “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”

I nodded, feeling a tingle creep up the back of my neck.

She leaned back, bracing her arms behind her. “Why don’t you go ahead and say it.”

I rubbed my neck, trying to dig up the right words, reaching for the pages in my pocket.

“Just tell me, Springer,” she said. “Tell me how Henry feels about you.”

She tilted her head and smiled at my totally stunned reaction. It wasn’t very often that she caught me off guard. I didn’t want to discuss what she was asking about, but my other choice was to share with her the rest of the letter. I couldn’t do that either.

“Henry,” I began. Just saying his name in this context made my heart flip. “Loves me.”

Julia exhaled like she was relieved about something. “Yeah.” She swept her scarlet hair over one shoulder. “Henry has always loved you. I could see it all over his face.
You
”—she pointed an accusing finger at me—“would just never look.” She laughed like a tinkling bell, the first I’d heard of it since December. I didn’t mind in the least that her good mood was at my expense.

I bit my lip, not quite as happy as I thought a girl should be while having a conversation about love. Then again, I had zero experience. “He wanted to take me to Tahiti.”

She turned somber. “How romantic.”

“I told him no. In fact, I told him to go frack himself.” I sucked in my lower lip so it wouldn’t wobble. “And then, I was so pissed that I kicked him out the door.” Dullness pressed against my chest and I sank onto the bed. “In the middle of a rain storm.”