She’s clutching a Tupperware container, and her face goes completely white when she sees me standing there. She nearly drops the Tupperware but manages to hold onto it at the last second. But she’s clearly speechless. She just stares at me, her mouth hanging open.
I try to think of an excuse—some reason why I might be here. I mean, it’s not totally ridiculous that a student might be at a professor’s house. Maybe we’re having an extra tutoring session.
Except I’m having a little more trouble thinking up an explanation for why I’d be wearing his shirt.
Well, maybe I came over here for a tutoring session. Then, while in the middle of the session, I spilled some red fruit punch on my clothes. And of course, Matt offered to wash and dry them for me, and in the meantime, he gave me his shirt to wear.
Yes, I can see how it looks, Patrice, but this is completely innocent.
Of course, we’re still just staring at each other when Matt limps into the living room. His hair is still damp from the shower, and he’s dressed in a T-shirt and boxer shorts. This is getting harder and harder to fit into my little makeshift excuse.
“You got the pizza, Rach?” Matt asks me. It takes him like another half second to realize who’s standing at the door. His eyes go wide, and he looks like he might fall on his face. He grabs onto the couch to support himself and says, “Oh shit.”
“Matt,” Patrice manages. She glares at me and pushes her way into the house. “What’s going on here?”
Well, I think that’s pretty obvious at this point.
“You said you weresick.” Patrice shakes the Tupperware in his face. “I brought you some soup.”
“Oh,” he says weakly. “Thanks.”
“I can’t believe you, Matt!” she murmurs loudly. “How could youdothis? Especially withher!”
Especially with me? What doesthatmean?
“Rachel,” Matt says in a pained voice. “I think… maybe you better go.”
I get a sick feeling in my stomach. I go back to Matt’s bedroom, where I put my clothes back on. I can hear her scolding him in the living room, although I can only make out some of the words.
“… you of all people, Matt, I really can’t believe… so stupid and irresponsible… could lose your job…obviouslyshe’s playing you… not like she’s so pretty you couldn’t possibly resist…”
I hate Patrice so much.
I come back out into the living room, where Matt is now sitting on the couch with a glazed look on his face. Patrice is just glaring at me. I don’t even say goodbye as I hurry out the front door. As I’m on the way to my car, the pizza delivery truck pulls up.
46
I crythe whole way home.
The more I think about it, the more I’m certain that Patrice is in love with Matt. She came over with soup for him when she thought he was sick, for God’s sake. And that’s why she was so angry with me. Not because she thought Matt was compromising his morals or jeopardizing his job or anything. But becauseshewanted him.
Patrice is going to blow the whistle on us. The whole school is going to find out about me and Matt. He’s going to lose his job. And I’m going to get kicked out of school.
But wait, maybe not. If she’s in love with him, she wouldn’t do that to him. Maybe she’ll protect our secret. But if she does, it will be on the condition that he ends things with me immediately.
I just can’t bear the thought of that.
When I get home, I park in front of the dorm, but I don’t go inside. I don’t want Heather to see me like this. Instead, I rest my head on the steering wheel and sob loudly. Stupid Patrice. I can’t believe that just happened.
I’m wiping snot from my nose with the back of my sleeve when my phone buzzes. I reach for it, and my heart leaps when I see Matt’s number. “Hello?”
“Hey,” he says quietly. He doesn’t sound happy.
I swallow, trying not to let on that I’ve been crying. “Is Patrice still there?”
“No, she’s gone,” he says.
“Okay,” I say carefully. “So, um… is she going to… tell on us?”
