Page 58 of Spearcrest Queen

“And—” Max lowers his voice to a confidential tone. “Looks like he had plenty of fun in France, didn’t he?”

“I wasn’t there.”

“You don’t keep up with the gossip columns?” Max says. “No, you’re too studious for that, aren’t you? Can’t be Mr Park’sperfect little pet by wasting your precious time on social media. I’ve had a look at your page, dead queen, it’s tragic.”

“I’d return the compliment,” I tell him. “But it never occurred to me to look at yours.”

He gives a dry, irritated laugh.

“Too busy looking at Evan Knight’s? Or did you take one look at the gorgeous blonde he spent the summer with and immediately decide to block him?”

My heart lurches at his words. Gorgeous blonde? Who? Probably some perfect American heiress or a French supermodel.

And so what if it is? I’ve got no reason to feel like I’m going to throw up, like I want to rip out of my own skin and run. We’re not together. We broke up. He can do whatever he likes, with whoever he likes.

But he’s yours, a tiny voice wails in my head.

No, he’s not. Not anymore.

I turn suddenly to face Max. We’re in the middle of the lobby, which is almost empty now, lit in bronze lights reflecting in the glass doors shielding us from the night and rain. Max raises his eyebrows expectantly, but his face drops ever so slightly when I smile and reach out to tap his nose.

“Poor Max,” I tell him. “The fact that you care more about Evan’s love life than I do is so humiliating for you.”

Something flashes in his eyes. He’s such a strange, horrible being that it’s impossible to tell whether he likes me being mean and condescending, or whether he hates it. He does pull away, taking one step back—a small step, but still creating distance. I smirk.

“What can I say?” he says. “I like keeping tabs on my friends.”

“I wasn’t aware you had any.”

Hecrosses his arms, and I immediately notice this instinct of self-protection. I drop my eyes to his arms, letting him noticemenoticinghim. His arms fall back to his sides; he stuffs his hands into his pockets with a smile, but it reads awkward, thrown up hastily to cover up his discomfort.

“You’ve gone really mean since the summer.”

“I’ve always been mean,” I tell him. “You’re just not a very good judge of character.”

He lets out a deep, rueful sigh. “You know, if I’d known my silly little prank at the gala would cause so much heartache, I would’ve been more merciful.”

“Your silly little prank made the Knight family look like charitable archangels and secured me the KMG internship, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

His eyes narrow, his grin widens.

“And the heartache?”

The heartache?

Like having my chest ripped open. Like having the one thing in my life that was completely, abjectly, unconditionally mine before having it tossed out into a black abyss. Like my body and my soul and my heart are constantly starving.

It’s not just heartache, breaking up with Evan. It’s realising everything I had, everything I’ve lost. It’s meeting men and knowing none of them can make my pulse quicken the way he can. Like knowing I could bring someone to their knees but having no desire to do so because the only person I want kneeling at my feet has been taken from me. Like being the sun in the centre of someone’s universe and then being cast out into a cold, solitary void.

Like I miss him, I miss him every day and every night, my bed colder because he’s not in it, my body hollow because he’s not holding it, my heart flinching every time my phone vibratesbecause I can’t help but hope it’s going to be him, because I miss him and it hurts more than I ever thought it could.

“What heartache?”

Max laughs. “I don’t believe that. Harvard’s a real fuckfest, but all you do is work. You could have your pick of the boys—or the girls—if you fancied it. Instead, you’re like the virgin nun of the department.”

He leans forward, and I smell alcohol on his breath. He probably needed liquid courage to hype himself up to confront me. How pathetic. He smiles before delivering his attempt at a killing blow.

“While you’re rotting away in the library, he’s in New York fucking someone who actually wants him.” He tilts his head. “Knight’s moved on—why haven’t you?”

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