“Not a big deal?” Patrice echoed my words. “Matt, you could lose your job. You realize that, right?”
“Yes, of course.” I leaned my head against the back of the sofa and stared up at the ceiling so I wouldn’t have to look at her.
“Tampering with grades is an incredibly serious offense,” Patrice said. “You’d never work again in academics.”
“I didn’t tamper with her grade,” I said.
Patrice appeared deeply skeptical.
“I didn’t,” I insisted.
“Well, what are you giving her then?” Patrice asked. “The answer key?”
“No,” I said. “I’m not giving her anything. We’re just… We’re in a relationship.”
I hated the sympathetic look on her face.
“Oh, Matt. Come on.”
It hurt that Patrice wouldn’t entertain even the slightest possibility that Rachel could genuinely like me. But it was notentirely unfair. In the three years prior to Rachel coming along, I’d been on exactly one date. It was a woman I met on a dating app, and she dashed out halfway through the meal, citing an emergency that was clearly manufactured. I was so depressed about it that I decided to take a break from dating, which ended up being more permanent than I intended.
“You have to trust me,” Patrice said. “This isn’t going to end well. For either of you.”
I knew she was right, but I couldn’t admit it. “It might.”
“Trust me, it won’t.”
I closed my eyes, hating that Patrice was right. But then I felt the couch shift under me, and I realized she was sitting beside me. Inappropriately close, given that last time I got this close to her, she felt a need to invent a fake boyfriend.
“Matt,” she said gently. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us lately. You and me.”
I opened my eyes and looked at her in surprise. “You and me?”
Patrice nodded. “All my life, I’ve been involved with the same types of men. Every boyfriend… my ex-husband… every one of them were these handsome, bad-boy types. I just couldn’t resist them.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “Too bad.”
“I don’t want that kind of man anymore, though.” Patrice scooted closer to me on the couch. She was now uncomfortably close. “I want someone kind and intelligent and responsible.”
A blind monkey would have seen where this was going.
“At this point in my life, I don’t care about looks anymore,” Patrice said.Gee, thanks.“It’s what’sinsidethat matters.”
And now, her hand was on my knee. A year ago, I would have killed to have Patrice’s hand on my knee, even if she did it while telling me how unattractive I was. Now all I could think aboutwas Rachel. She was the only thing that’s made me happy in the last decade and a half. Ilovedher, damn it.
I buried my face in my shaking hands. I felt actually ill, not just fake ill like I’d told Patrice I was when she suggested dinner earlier. I didn’t want it to be over with Rachel. But what could I do?
“Matt…” She moved her hand to my back, rubbing circles. “Are you okay?”
“Not really.”
“Hey, listen.” She stopped rubbing my back and reached into her purse. She rifled around for a few seconds, then as I lifted my face from my hands, she pulled out a little baggie. “I know what will make you feel better.”
She was on my right side, and I don’t see quite as well on my right side, so at first, I thought I was imagining things when I realized the baggie had about a dozen little white pills in it. All I could think was,What the hell is that?
Patrice shook two of the pills into her palm and held them out to me. “Take these. You’ll forget all about Rachel.”
I gaped at the pills in her hand. I didn’t know what they were, and I didn't bother to ask. There was a lot of whispering among the staff at DeWitt that one of us must be responsible for the drugs making their way to the student body. But I never knew until this minute that it was Patrice.
