I don’t know what to say. My mouth feels dry.
I want to try to explain to him what happened. I could tell him about the blackmailer, about how I did it to save his career so that we could still be together. I really want to tell him. But I hear the words in my head, and it all sounds like a big lie. He’ll never believe me in a million years.
Matt closes his eyes. “You got me, Rachel, I have to admit it. I really believed that…” He shakes his head and opens his eyes again. “Look, I’ll let you keep the honors on the last midterm, and let’s just forget this ever happened, okay? I’ll change the final exam questions, and we’ll call it even. It’s… it’s a valuable lesson for me, I guess.”
I want to cry. I don’t care about the grade. That’s not what matters to me anymore.
“Matt,” I say, speaking through a sizable lump in my throat. “You have to believe me. I never faked anything with you. I swear.”
He glances down at the exam paper still in my hand. “Yeah, okay.”
“I know how it looks,” I admit. “But you also know how hard I studied for that last midterm. I mean, we studied together. You were quizzing me—I couldn’t have faked that. And I wasn’t faking my feelings for you either. I… I love you.”
Matt looks at me like I just slapped him in the face.
“Please just get out,” he says, his voice breaking on the words.
What else can I do? I get out. And as I am shutting the door, Matt drops his face into his hands, and my heart breaks in two.
54
I cry.A lot.
I feel like a hypocrite for all the times I mocked Heather for crying over Abe. I get it now. This is the worst pain ever. I miss him so much. And knowing how much he hates me just makes it a thousand times worse.
I keep reliving the whole thing over and over. I imagine the crushed look in Matt’s eyes when he handed me that exam paper. Maybe I made a big mistake—maybe I should have gone to Matt right away when I got that note.
Of course, the main thing I keep thinking is:
If only I had noticed that last damn piece of paper in the printer.
It’s silly to think about “if only” though. It’s over with Matt. He hates me, and he’ll never forgive me. The best thing to do is just to move on.
I don’t go to class or lab, mostly out of respect for Matt. He’s required to go, so the least I can do is be the one to back out gracefully. I keep to the library when I have to go to school. I try studying for the final, hoping that a stellar performance might convince him that I hadn’t been trying to con him.
Unfortunately, it’s pretty hard to concentrate. Plus I lost the best tutor I’ve ever had.
On the night before the final exam, I find myself in the library, studying late. There aren’t many students around, but I recognize Sasha, my quiet little lab partner. I like Sasha. She doesn’t talk much, she seems nice, and she’s not terribly annoying. I wonder if Sasha might consider being my friend—I could use a friend these days.
“I’m glad I’m not the only one here on a Saturday night,” I comment to Sasha as I slide into the seat across from her.
“It’s never empty here on Saturday night,” Sasha replies with a kind smile. “Do you usually study at home?”
“Sort of,” I say, thinking of all the late-night “study sessions” at Matt’s house.
I guess I must look pale, or maybe my eyes are bloodshot from all the crying, because Sasha is giving me a funny look.
“Are you okay, Rachel?” Sasha asks.
Sasha is reaching out to me—maybe I should confide in her. I eye Sasha, a tiny little pixie of a girl with olive skin and a plain face. Sasha looks much younger than twenty-two, more like a high school girl, and I can’t imagine she could know much about love or sex.
Then again, didn’t Heather say that Sasha is hooking up with Mason Howard? Sasha must knowsomethingif she’s getting it on with a guy like Mason.
“It’s just this guy I’ve been seeing,” I finally say. I appreciate how Sasha doesn’t immediately start grilling me to find out his name, like Heather would have. “We sort of… we broke up recently. I really messed things up.”
Sasha frowns. “I’m sorry. Did all the studying get in the way?”
“No, not really,” I nearly laugh at how opposite Sasha’s question is from reality. “I just… did something dumb. He wouldn’t even let me explain.”
