Page 39 of Kings of the Campus

Her eyes flick back to me, guarded, tense. “What do you want, Devin?”

“I wanted to apologize. For everything.” I swallow, my throat tight. “I know I screwed up. We all did. I…I just want to make things right.”

She hesitates, the door still only open a sliver. Her fingers tighten on the edge of it. “Now’s not a good time.”

I frown. There’s more here. It’s not just anger—there’s something else simmering beneath the surface. “Can I come in? Just for a minute? I want to explain?—”

“I said it’s not a good time.” Her voice sharpens, but there’s something brittle about it. Her eyes won’t settle on me, like she’s holding something back.

“I know we’ve been at each other’s throats,” I say, pushing past the knot in my stomach. “But we don’t have to keep doing this. Let me help. Whatever’s going on, I can?—”

“I don’t need your help,” she snaps, finally meeting my eyes, her anger flaring up again. But there’s something else mixed in—a hesitation she’s trying to hide. “Just…go away.”

I take a step forward, not willing to give up yet. “Tessa, if something’s wrong, you can tell me. I know I’ve messed things up, but you don’t have to handle this alone.”

Her eyes flash, and for a moment, I think she’s going to yell. But instead, her face twists, like she’s caught between saying too much and saying nothing at all. “Just leave me the fuck alone. You’ve done enough damage already.”

“I’m trying to fix things,” I exclaim, frustration bubbling up. “But you’re not giving me a chance.”

“I don’t owe you anything, Devin.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and she glances away, gripping the door tighter. “Just…go. Please.”

The softness in her voice throws me off.

“Tessa, if something’s going on?—”

“Go!” she interrupts, the word sharper this time, but her body is tense. She shifts, half hiding behind the door. “I can’t do this right now. Just leave me alone.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the look in her eyes stops me cold. The door closes softly, leaving me standing there, heartpounding in the icy air. I stare at the wood for a moment, my mind spinning. How can I fix things if I can’t even talk to her about the issues?

I pull my jacket tighter, stepping back from her door, the cold seeping into my bones. Whatever’s going on with Tessa, I’m not sure I’ll ever figure it out. But for now, all I can do is walk away, feeling hurt and more confused than ever.

The cold bites into my skin as I trek back to the frat. I realize I should’ve grabbed a heavier coat, but I hadn’t been thinking straight when I left. I was too wrapped up in our conversation, too eager to fix the mess I’d helped create.

But in the end, it hadn’t even mattered. Tessa refused to hear me out so there was nothing more I could do.

As I reach Sigma Theta, I decide that I need to stop worrying about what I can’t change and focus instead on my priorities—the upcoming finals and my role in the frat. I may not be able to fix everything with Tessa, but I can keep from making the same mistakes moving forward.

Once I’m inside, I hang up my coat on the rack, my phone buzzing from inside my jacket pocket. I reach in and grab it, not recognizing the number at first.

“Hello?” I say, wondering who might be calling so late in the evening.

“Devin Cash? This is Selma Drake from the dean’s office. Dean Harrison would like to have a meeting with you at your earliest convenience.”

My stomach drops.

24

TESSA

The hum of my laptop fills the quiet space as I slump deeper into my chair, feeling utterly drained. My body aches, my head swims, and the constant wave of nausea hasn’t let up in days. I’ve been chalking it all up to stress—after everything that’s happened, how could it not be? The coffee event, the rumors, the humiliation…it’s all been too much. But something feels different, deeper. More than just exhaustion from fighting battles I never asked for.

I reach for my phone, intending to add a reminder to my calendar. I need to figure out what deadlines I’m up against this week and maybe reschedule a few things. But when the app opens, something catches my eye. A tiny, seemingly insignificant detail—except it sends my stomach into knots.

I’ve missed my period. Twice.

The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. How did I not notice this sooner? I try to think back—late nights, the stress, the whirlwind of everything crashing down. It was easy to overlook. But now, with every little symptom pulling me down, it suddenly makes sense.

“No,” I murmur to myself, shaking my head, trying to push the thought away. It can’t be that. This is just my mind playing tricks on me. I’m not pregnant. Ican’tbe.

---