Page 110 of Overtime
“Thanks?”
“Now, I know you have a student to tutor in”—she checks the massive decorative clock on the wall that only she can read—“eighteen minutes, so I suggest you get going.”
That might not even be enough to make it to the library in time, with how slowly I’m moving. As I stand, it takes Herculean effort to stifle the groan threatening to spill out of my mouth at the stab of pain in my nether regions. I sway a little and grab the back of the chair.
“’Kay, see you later, Melinda.”
“Bye, kiddo.” Her attention goes back to her computer screen, and I’m dismissed.
Approximately ten years later, I manage to walk out of her office. Outside, I find Wyatt sipping gross coffee from a paper cup.
“Isn’t it great?” Wyatt chirps as he joins me. “We’re just a month and a half away from graduation. And even better, just two weeks from your book debut.”
“Yay, so exciting.”
I wince with every step away from the student center. Oh, how I wish I had a golf cart to take me all the way to the library. Or better yet, that I could teleport there. Or even better still,teleport into a life where I’m not such a loser. Wouldn’t that be sweet?
“Why don’t you look excited, though?”
Maybe because I have two aliens trying to tear my body apart from the inside. One is obvious. The other one is my heart. This excruciating pain today is nothing compared to how I’ve felt since…
I sniffle. No, I don’t want to cry in public. Again. Today.
I thought I caught a glimpse of Aran earlier this morning. But the buzz cut was longer than usual and the guy had a bit of a beard. Similar build, though. And just a millisecond of wonderingis it him?was enough to activate my tear glands. It made eating alone in the cafeteria very awkward.
The worst part is that I can’t write. It was so much easier to work on a romance book while my heart was still in one piece. And I hate that he took that joy from me. I wish I could sock him a good one—and then hug him so tight he can’t let go of me.
What has Aran Rodriguez done to me?
Wyatt still chatters beside me as we head to the library, and I make an effort to focus on his words. Whatever he’s saying has to be better than my thoughts.
“—taking him to the book launch?”
“What? Sorry, I zoned out.”
He takes a deep breath. “I said, are you taking your make-out partner to the book launch?”
Nope. Never mind. My thoughts were safer.
I try to go the safe route by saying, “I don’t need to take a date to my book launch.”
“So, were you dating him?” He nudges me, and I’m too weak to avoid it.
“Would you look at that. At this pace, I’m going to be late. See you later!” But my traitorous body can’t go any faster.
“Hmm.” He falls quiet, and it makes the trip to the library more bearable. But when we get to the building and he opens the door for me, I see something in his expression I don’t like. Pity. And it’s not just in my head, because he says, “If you need a rebound, just let me know. One of my friends is interested.”
“What?”
“Apparently, he saw you dancing at some party, and voilà, instant crush.”
I grunt. The only party I danced at was the one that crushed my heart. I don’t need any reminders of that night.
Wyatt chuckles. “Whoda thunk our little Maddie was such a femme fatale?”
Yeah, right. Some femme fatale I am in my cozy cardigan with pockets shaped like bunnies’ heads and a dress that could be worn by my grandma. There is no vestige of the confident Maddie of that night, the one who wore a full face of makeup and a dress that hid very little. Rather, if I could wear my fluffy blanket outside the apartment, I would. I’d stay under it until my demise.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” I mumble as we enter the quiet area at the front of the library. I’m absolutely drained from this conversation, this day, and my life, in that order.
