Page 90 of One of Them Girls

I give a small smile to the other two guys in the hallway, ignoring their questioning looks. Fuck them. They don’t get to judge.

I close myself back into my room and return to my spot on my bed to go back to studying.

Hey. The woodshop is going to be open tonight.

I smile at the text from my classmate, Grant. I didn’t really know him until two weeks ago, but with enough money, he was willing to help me out on a special project.

What time? I’ll be there.

A couple hours later, I meet Grant at the woodshop.

“You sure about this man?” he asks, counting the money I slipped into his hand.

One thousand dollars. The best money I have ever spent.

“Yeah. I took a woodshop class at the academy, but I don’t know how to use all the stuff. I want this to look perfect. It’s really important.”

He nods. “Let’s get to work then.”

I hand him the haphazardly cut pieces of wood. It’s going to be hard, but I’m not willing to give up on this.

17

Cassi

AirPods in,I jam out to some nineties rap trying to study. I found a corner tucked back into the library and haven’t seen a person since I sat down. I put my phone on, do not disturb, blocking out the world.

You’ve been doing that a lot lately, a little voice in my head says.

It’s been two weeks since I officially broke it off with Xavier. To say it’s been difficult would be an understatement. I still see him occasionally on campus. With Jack deciding to hang around, I sure get enough updates on him.

Truth is, I miss him.

From what Jack says, I know he would take me back in a heartbeat if I just picked up the phone and called him. I can’t do that though.

Even though I denied it, I have some messed-up shit to deal with. I thought I was coping with the death of Ryan, but I wasn’t. I was hiding from it. Xavier helped me take the first steps toward confronting my overwhelming grief, but I’m not there yet.

If I called him now, I would only be using our relationship as a way to avoid those feelings again. That wouldn’t be fair to him or me.

While I hope when I’m ready he is still there, waiting for me, I also know that asking him to do so would be selfish. That’s why I had to let him go.

But you love him.

Shaking the thought away, I fall into nineteenth-century America for my history class. I don’t know how long I throw myself into it, but I startle when a hand touches my knee.

I let out a gasp, pulling my earbuds out.

“What’s up?” I ask a frazzled-looking Rebecca.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she says harshly as she pulls my books out of my lap and jamming them into my bag.

“What the hell are you doing? I’m studying,” I hiss, trying to keep my voice down.

“We need to leave,” she says, standing with my bag in hand.

“No, we don’t, I need to study.” I pull on my bag, not moving. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I swear to God, Cassandra, I’m sick of your shit. If you want to stay here? Fine, but I’m going to the hospital,” she spews, dropping my bag at my feet.

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