Page 137 of That's Too Pucking Bad

But I don’t look back.

It’s a miserable week. Miserable.

I see Zane on campus a few times, but the second I spot him, I veer off like a coward. It doesn’t matter if I’m late to class or if I have to double back through the science building— I just… can’t. Not with the way my chest knots up when I see him.

Maya texts a couple of times. Caleb, too. I ignore both. I can’t deal with them, either. Not when their faces remind me of him. I packed things from my dorm when I knew Maya would be in classes, and I’m staying at my mom’s for now.

By Wednesday, my mom’s buzzing around the kitchen, humming a tune I haven’t heard in years. “Guess who got the job?” she says, holding up an official-looking paper like a trophy.

“That’s great, Mom,” I say, smiling for the first time in days.

“It’s at the community hospital during the day,” she says, beaming. “No more late-night shifts.”

Her happiness stings, just a little. She’s picking herself up, moving on, and here I am, crying into my pillow every damn night over a guy I swore I’d forget.

I picked up a shift at the local café, too. It’s not glamorous, but it’s work. The pay’s crap, and my feet ache after every shift, but it’s mine. The tips aren’t great, but they’re something, and I’ve started a little savings jar in the back of my closet. Just in case.

Late at night, I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about him. But his stupid face pops into my head anyway, and before I know it, I’m crying again, muffling the sound with my pillow so my mom doesn’t hear.

By Saturday afternoon, I’m halfway through a shift when Maya walks in. She doesn’t order anything, just stands there at the counter, arms crossed, waiting for me to notice her.

“Maya.” I blink at her, wiping my hands on my apron. “What’re you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m working,” I say flatly. “If you’re not ordering, I need to get back—”

“Remy,” she says, cutting me off. “Can we talk? Please.”

I hesitate, glancing around the half-empty café. My boss isn’t hovering, and there’s only one couple at a corner table. “I’ve got a break in ten,” I mutter.

“Good,” she says, grabbing a seat by the window.

When I finally join her, she doesn’t waste time. “I’m transferring,” she says, her voice blunt.

“What?” I blink, caught off guard.

“My mom’s opening a branch in London,” she says. “We’re moving next month.”

“Oh.” It’s all I manage.

“There’s a party Friday,” she continues. “A little send-off. You should come.”

I shake my head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You know why, Maya.”

She sighs, exasperated. “Remy, this isn’t about Zane. It’s my party.”

“You’re all the same,” I mutter.

Her eyes narrow. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You, Caleb, Zane— you’re all tied together. If I go, he’ll be there, and I can’t—”

“For God’s sake, Remy, get over yourself,” she snaps, and it’s the first time I’ve ever heard her sound so pissed.

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