Page 84 of Wicked Surrender

She nodded, shoving her hand in her pocket.

“I have him to thank for showing me how to fight for whatIwant, not what someone else tells me. I knew it was stupid to trust my bully, but I took a leap of faith to do so, and that lesson has changed me.”

“Good,” she cheered. “Good.”

“It’s dumb, but this whole experience with him has taught me to fight for what I want in the future, too.”

She grinned. “You’re going to switch majors?”

I opened and closed my mouth, still hesitant. With the turmoil of what Jason said and how I’d ended it with him, I knew better than to make important decisions. I was emotional—mad and hurt and disappointed. But if and when I took the step to change my major, I should make that choice based on logic and with a clear head.

My head wasnotclear right now.

“Not yet. I’m going to take the first step, though. Tomorrow, I’m presenting about the cancer drug trials at the symposium, like I want to, like my dad warned me not to.”

She clapped my back and applauded me, giddy and loud about it. “You go, girl.”

Losing Jason had given me a boldness, a confidence that I would ride with. I refused to go to the symposium and present about those lame clinical studies like my dad wanted me to.

“I am thankful that Jason motivated me to go for what I want. That’s a good lesson learned. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to repeat my mistake of blindly trusting him again and letting him matter. Not when he couldn’t even try to make it right.”

“How could he, though?” she asked. “It’s not like he can rewind time and undo all that he said and did.”

I knew that. But I wasn’t sure what else would trip me back into wanting him close enough where he could further hurt me.

“I don’t know. All I do know is that there has been no time to even think about talking to him or hearing him out again. If he wants to make amends, I’m not available with the symposium tomorrow.”

When I got up the next morning, I dressed and mentally rehearsed for what would end up being the first day in a new direction. After this, when my father saw that I could impress with material I wanted to share, he’d either have to accept my decision or further oppress me.

And then I could try again to fight for what I wanted.

I arrived at the large conference room and tuned out all the noise. I didn’t let the size of the audience distract me. I focused on being as cool and collected as possible, in the zone until it was my time to step out on the stage.

As I approached the podium, breathing as steadily as I could like I’d coached myself from public speaking courses, I let the sea of faces merge as a blank entity. I almost succeeded. I nearly accomplished the simple step of making the audience a vague recipient of my attention.

Spotting Ethan in the back irritated me.

Seeing my family, including Mai, near the side, intimidated me.

But finding Jason’s face in the crowd was nearly my undoing.

He sat there, serious and sad, staring so intensely at me among so many others.

Ignore him.

Just focus on the speech.

He’s not important.

Pretend he’s not even here.

Letting that mantra of avoidance embolden me, I took my place at the podium and tapped the button on the clicker to move my presentation up on the projector. I’d emailed the file a couple of days ago, and I drew in one last fortifying breath as I waited for the title slide to show behind me.

A collective gasp sounded, alarming me before I could even introduce myself.

What?

What’s wrong?

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