Page 53 of The Fallacy of True Love
Yanking my drawer open, I grabbed the plastic envelope and fished out the crumpled bus ticket. My eyes skimmed the familiar words and I grasped the paper’s center fold, ready to tear it to pieces.
Then I hesitated. This could be proof, alright—that I’d been a sucker one time too many. I’d hold on to it as a reminder that I needed to stick to my promise of avoiding city guys who talked too much and doled out their smiles too easily.
So I put the note back.
Normally, I would go straight to the water when something bothered me, but I couldn’t with my new tatts. Since I had energy to burn and thoughts I needed distracting from, I worked off the steam with my dumbbells instead.
All the while, I wondered how Alonzo felt about having his name—and his face—blasted in the news.
Then I punished myself with twice as many reps for thinking about him at all.
Chapter Eighteen
Alonzo
“Shit.”
No matter how long I stared, the letters on my screen didn’t change. For the first time in my life, I’d gotten grades lower than an A-minus. Not just that—I had a C+. I’d known my performance had been far from stellar. But this?
I dug my hands in my hair and scrubbed it, needing to relieve the pounding that had taken up residency in my head.
It was dangerous to get used to too much of a good thing because it would never last. Things changed. Businesses flopped. Money came and went, and so did people, whether by circumstance or by choice.
I’d lived through that. But if there was one thing I counted on through it all, it was my brain. Now, even that seemed to fail me.
We were only a week into January, and between my breakup and my grades, I couldn’t catch my breath.
A knock came at my door a second before it swung open.
My dad poked his head through the doorway. “Lonzo, can you—” He looked past me to my laptop, and I mentally cursed because I hadn’t activated my screensaver. “Are those your grades?”
“Papa—”
He strode right in, planting his palm on my desk as he leaned closer to the screen. “What is this? A C?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and exhaled. Count on him to go straight to my lowest grade. “A C+,” I corrected, like the difference mattered.
“Lucia!” Papa shouted.
I wished Luna and Gabe hadn’t flown out yesterday. With them gone, my dad had only me to fixate on.
Mama entered my room. “What’s wrong?”
“Look at his grades,” he said, pointing at the screen.
Giving me a look of concern, Mama came around to my other side. She put her hand on my shoulder and studied the report. “You got As in Law 99 and 115.”
“He got a C in 109. Criminal law 1.” Papa narrowed his eyes on me. “Isn’t that a basic subject?”
“It’s a C+,” Mama said, unknowingly repeating my words.
Again, Papa ignored the correction and went back to questioning me. “First, you disappear on us, and now this? What’s gotten into you?”
Mama squeezed my shoulder. “It’s his first semester. He’s still adjusting.”
I didn’t know whether to be comforted that Mama was making excuses for me or ashamed that she had to. They’d always relied on me to get good grades. And now, when my performance mattered the most, I was floundering.
“I was going to ask you if you wanted to watch a movie with us, but it looks like you should use that time to study,” Papa muttered.
