Page 9 of The Longshot

Nothing could stand in his way.

I think that’s why we connected at first. We both felt like we had a mission to accomplish and somewhere along the way, we clung to each other for mutual support.

But as we approached year three of our relationship and the final year of our schooling, things changed, and boy, did they change quickly.

The pressure of always being at the top started to sink Simon to the bottom. He became distant—not just emotionally, but physically. Sometimes there would be days on end where he’d go MIA, leaving me to scour the campus in search of him. Christ, one time I even took a four hour train ride to his parents up in Newcastle to see if he was there—he wasn’t.

But one night, after my relentless attempts and on the cusp of giving up, I found him—stumbling out of a local pub off-campus in a fit of laughter as his mates trailed in tow. He was cheerful, an expression that quickly shifted when I charged my way towards him, frustrated beyond merit that he’d left me in a panic when all along he’d just been pissed at the bar.

That night I confronted him. I confronted him in front of all of his mates. I shouted. I yelled. I even threatened to break up with him.

In my fit of rage his entourage quickly dispersed, leaving us some privacy to hash out our argument, but little did I know that that would be the day.

The day everything changed for the worst.

What started with a simple raise of his right hand, one that he “didn’t mean” and was too drunk to “think straight”, became the relentless torture of my life these past three months.

It was as if Simon had lost control in all aspects of his life, causing him to cling to the one thing that was his.

His safe space.

His peace.

Me.

In the blink of an eye, our relationship took a complete 180, and no matter how many times I’d try to leave him, Simon always managed to find a way back in.

The worst part? I’d been living with the lie.

No one knew what had been transpiring between the two of us. I worried that if they did what they’d say. What they’d do, but most of all, what would happen if I did speak up.

Simon’s family has power… a lot of power, not just within their law firm, but with their connections. His dad is best-friends with one of the bigwigs at Oxford, not to mention his mum is a sessional instructor on the side. Therefore, if I did find the courage to speak up, I could only surmise that between the three of them, they’d somehow find a way to cover up his tracks while steering me off mine...

It’s why I held on—not because I wanted to stay or because I thought things would go back to the way they once were. I stayed because of the fear.

I feared what would happen if I left. Just like I did the night Ruby shoved me into her car and whisked me away from the party. I don’t think I’d ever had so many missed calls from Simon in my life. Ruby said I should just block him—rid him from my phone. She even was set on getting me a new one entirely.

“A fresh start is what you need,” she lectured as I broke down and disclosed everything that had transpired between the two of us. “You need to get away from him.”

It was the truth.

It was the first time I’d heard someone say what I’d known for months, and in that moment, her words gave me strength, compelling me to send Simon a final message, one that read:

We’re over, Simon. We’re done.

Thankfully, my parents were so caught up in the action that night that they hadn’t realized I’d slipped out until I sent them a message saying that I was on my way back to the campus.

They bought it, I knew they would.

There’s nothing my parent’s care about more than my education. But the truth? I wasn’t heading back to the campus. Ruby was driving me to her bakery in Crawley, just south of London, where together we devised a plan.

I’d stay with her for as long as I needed, taking a break from school in hopes that things between Simon and I would settle down. The plan sounded refreshing—promising. Simon had never been to Ruby’s bakery, nor would he likely suspect that that was where I would be.

But my location wasn’t what left me anxious, it was the practicality of the plan. Under no circumstance could either of my parents find out—not just about Simon, but about taking a break from school.

It would crush them—infuriate them.

Ruby was explicit when it came to her promise not to tell—to keep up with the facade that I was happily studying away at Oxford as long as I could do the same.

---