Page 59 of All Your Pucking Secrets

“That must have been difficult,” I say, for lack of anything better to offer.

“Yeah.” Her nostrils flare, and I can’t help but wonder how deep her anger at her dead father goes. “As soon as he was buried, Tyler started planning to transfer to Newbury, and I wanted to be near him, so I enrolled here, too.”

A faint ringing begins in my ears and builds gradually until it’s a piercing drone that can’t be ignored. I shake my head, but it doesn’t dispel the noise.

“What?” My lips form the word, but I don’t hear myself say it.

It feels like the world is tipping upside down, throwing everything I thought I knew off balance.

“But why would he do that?” I ask, hoping she can’t make out what I’m saying.

She gives me a knowing look. “Because of you.” She rests her hands on the table and leans toward me. “Despite his dumbass behavior in the past—which you should make him grovel for, by the way—you’ve been the only girl for him since you started tutoring him in high school.”

“That can’t be right.” I shove back my chair and get shakily to my feet.

Soraya bolts upright, as if to give chase.

“I’m not running away,” I tell her. “Just…give me a moment.”

I go to the counter and request a glass of water. I drink it quickly and wait while the barista refills it, then I carry the glass back to the table. I sit and close my eyes. It takes a few meditative breaths before the drone in my ears fades to a whine.

“You can’t be serious,” I say, opening my eyes and blinking as they adjust to the light. “Maybe Tyler has woven a good story, but I saw him with Whitney at prom, and then again the following week.”

“He wasn’t—”

“Besides, girls always throw themselves at college athletes,” I interrupt, unwilling to listen to her defend the man who shattered my heart. “I refuse to believe that he’s never been with any of them.”

Soraya sighs. “All I can say is that, as far as I know, he’s never touched anyone else since you were together.”

That can’t be right.

The wheels of my mind turn, trying to make sense of the information Soraya has unloaded on me.

Is there a chance—even if it’s a slight one—that Tyler is telling the truth?

Or has he put Soraya up to this, knowing that I’m more likely to hear her out than I am to listen to whatever useless excuses he’s come up with over the past three years?

Even if a portion of what Soraya has told me is the truth, I can’t forget that Tyler hurt me. He broke my trust and utterly humiliated me. Then, when my world crashed down, he didn’t stand by me.

Soraya stands and twists a lone silver charm between her fingers. “It was nice to meet you. I hope you’ll give Tyler a chance. He’s an idiot, but he’s made himself sick over what he did to you—and what happened after. He really does care for you.”

I can’t force myself to nod, so I just meet her eyes. She reaches into the pocket of her designer jeans and withdraws a folded piece of notepaper, then holds it out to me. I take it with some trepidation.

“My phone number,” she explains, confirming that this was a set-up from the beginning. Why else would she have her number ready to hand over? “Don’t be a stranger.”

She leaves.

I watch her go, then turn toward my laptop screen, which has gone black while I was distracted. I massage my jaw with one of my thumbs. There’s no way I’m going to be able to focus on my essay now. There’s no point even bothering.

I pack up my laptop, put my notebook in the laptop bag, and carry it outside, where I walk toward my dorm. Thankfully, I don’t run into anyone I know because I’m not in a good headspace to talk. Even more luckily, Martina isn’t in our room.

I ditch my laptop bag on the desk and flop onto the bed. I pull my phone out of my pocket and call Mom. She answers on the fourth ring, which is progress. For a while there, she’d always picked up after one ring, which made me wonder if she was living with her phone fused to her palm just in case I needed her.

“Hey, Mom,” I say.

“It’s so good to finally hear from you,” she exclaims, making it sound as though it’s been weeks rather than two days.

“It’s nice to talk to you, too.” I know better than to call attention to her clinginess when she’s making progress, even if it is slow. At least she hasn’t moved to Newbury to be with me all the time. She wanted to, at first.

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