I watch her bite the inside of her cheek, avoiding looking at me.
“Finch,” I plead, unable to resist the urge to reach out for her, but she shrinks away. “Just let me explain.”
“Explain what?” she asks. Her voice has a cold edge that I’ve never heard from her before. It’s then she finally looks up at me, her eyes just as cold.
I realize in the past twenty-four hours her sadness has rolled over into anger. Rightfully so.
“I’m sorry,” I begin, desperately needing her to listen to me. “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I had both of my alarms set, I swear. They were set before you even left!” I explain, still scrambling to try to figure out what happened. “I know Adrianna had something to do with this.”
I watch Olivia’s face crumple, the absolute hurt resurfacing. “Why?” she asks, so softly I barely even hear her, her voice wavering as she fights back tears. “Is it because she slept in your bed that night?”
The accusation is so out of left field it feels like a hundred-mile-an-hour fastball just hit me right upside the head. “What?” I ask in a rushed, disbelieving breath.
She shakes her head again, collecting all the final exams in her arms, hugging them to her chest. She rounds the bench, trying to leave, but I stop her, moving in front of her.
“Where on earth did you get that idea?” I ask.
The tiniest scoff passes her lips. “Oh, I don’t know, Bronx,” she says, some of the coldness returning. “Maybe it’s because she came parading into lab that morning bragging about it, and about how you wouldn’t wake up no matter how hard she tried to wake you.”
My jaw goes slack in shock. This is why her demeanor is so cold. Not only does she think I ditched her to take the final by herself, but she also thinks I cheated on her.
“You know I would never do that to you,” I claim definitively, my voice thick with emotion.
“Do I?” she asks, tears welling in her eyes. “Tell me, Bronx, were you just using me this whole time?” Her eyes are locked on mine, begging me to tell the truth. I can see the desperation, the insecurity, the hurt behind them.
I know what Rat Boy, and others on this campus, have been whispering in her ear all this time: That I’m a scumbag who could never commit to one woman. That I’m just using her to pass the class. That she’s naive enough to let me do it and believe I actually care about her.
“Of course not! Finch”—I take a step toward her and she retreats, breaking my heart—“do you really think I’d ask for you to tutor me and actually show up to every single study session if I was going to use you to just take the final for me?”
I see a flicker of something—hope?—in her eyes, and I cling to it desperately.
“I used tutoring as a gateway to spend more time with you because I liked you, and I wanted to do betterbecauseof you,” I admit. “The bets—why would I try so hard to get good grades if I was just going to use you in the end? If I didn’t care?” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Why would I let you be the only girl I’ve allowed in my room? The only one I’ve ever shared my past with? Why would I literally beat myself up over disappointing you?” I hold up my hands, flashing her my busted-up knuckles.
She gasps and her eyes flood with worry, her body tense like she wants to reach out and touch me, showing me that beneath her anger there’s still some sort of affection for me. But she refrains from doing so.
“I’m in love with you, Olivia,” I admit, feeling the most vulnerable and transparent I have ever been. “And I know I don’t deserve you. I know that, but I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try.”
The tears in her eyes spill over as she looks at me, utterly conflicted. “I wish I could believe you,” she says eventually, her voice a broken whisper.
“What?” I breathe, going into utter panic mode. I feel like I’m hanging off the edge of a cliff by a rope and the rope is frayed down to a single strand. I grab her arms, begging for her to believe me. “No. I love you, Finch, and I would never purposefully do something to hurt you.”
“Then why would you sleep with her?” she cries.
“I didn’t,” I assure her. “I swear to god I didn’t. I would never do that to you. Never,” I vow.
“She was wearing your hoodie!” she yells hysterically, raising her voice, something I’ve never heard her do.
Dumbfounded, I stumble a step backward. “It was probably an old hoodie she stole years ago,” I try to reason, knowing that could be the only explanation.
Tears stream down her face, the look in her eyes shattering. She shakes her head. “It was the hoodie you wore at Thanksgiving. The black one. The one with the large rip at the left collarbone.”
My face pales, my heart stopping while my mind runs a million miles a minute. How the hell could Adrianna have gotten that hoodie?
“I don’t . . . I swear, this is just a big misunderstanding.”
Olivia squeezes her eyes shut, as if she’s in pain. “Just stop,” she whispers, her voice a broken plea. “Stop lying. Stop trying to play games with me. You already basically admitted it yesterday.”
“What?” I blurt, baffled.
