Page 82 of In For a Penny
It’d definitely been a hellof a week. I needed a mental break from everything. Between Austin’s new relationship and the events from Friday, I had never felt so overwhelmed. I decided to email all of my professors, letting them know I was ill and had to take the week off. They weren’t particularly happy with me, but then again, I wasn’t particularly happy with grad school either.
School was exceptionally uninspiring, and it had become clear with each passing day that deciding to do this master’s degree was a mistake. I wasn’t learning anything here that I hadn’t learned in undergrad or during any of my internship experiences. I thought maybe it would get better, that the courses would become more developed and challenging, and that perhaps, as the weeks passed, the case studies would become less Anglocentric or dated and more worldly and current.
I was wrong.
Time off from classes has helped me gain clarity into one thing: I’m wasting my time and money. I’m basically paying for a line on my resume to increase my appeal to future employers, but I honestly couldn’t care less anymore.
I want to go back home and regroup. The idea of moving back to New York doesn’t really make me happy—in all honesty, it sounds like taking two steps back—but it feels like my time here has come to an end. I finally realize that there’s no escaping bad things, so what’s the point in trying?
Luckily, my school offers the option to drop out and receive a refund on most of the tuition paid. I just have to submit the paperwork that I have yet to fill out by December 1st. It’s early November, so I’m still good on time, but it’s become increasingly difficult for me to gather all the documentation needed without anyone finding out. I don’t want anyone to know that I’m planning on leaving, so it’s been complicated to do with my friends constantly babysitting me. Once word ofThe Incidentgot out to Chloe and Jane, a twenty-four-seven watch was put into place. I was never alone.
Ever.
Oliver even spoke to Allie to make sure I was being watched when I was at home and they couldn’t be there for me. My friends thought I hadn’t noticed their little scheme, but it had become blatantly obvious, a couple of days ago, that they were all waiting for me to crash or implode and were working together to have at least one of them be there when it happened. After our study group, I was packing up my stuff to head back home from the library when I saw Jane and Josh exchange strange glances. Josh cleared his throat and gave her a look. Jane stood with a start and whispered, “Are you leaving?” Standing and gathering her things, she said she would go with me, making an excuse about having to go in the same direction—something about having to pick up something in my neighborhood.
That was a massive red flag.
There’s nothing in my neighborhood except for residential buildings, a park, and a vet clinic. With that, Jane had confirmed my suspicions.
I didn’t want to be an asshole, but I had to ask her to leave me alone and give me some space. Don’t get me wrong, I truly appreciate the time and effort put into this by all of my friends—I’m not an idiot. When I realized that they had started to plan their lives and schedules around me to make sure I was okay and supported in case I had a breakdown, I almost cried. It made it that much more difficult for me to make the decision to drop out of school, because I have never had friends like these. But I’ve made my decision. I’m definitely ending this and going back home.
It’s been a week since the whole Tom thing and the first time I’ve been alone in the longest time. It’s been amazing. I was finally able to re-organize my closet the way I like it (i.e.,notthe Marie Kondo method, just the normal human method) and eat a bunch of cookies alone in bed with no one bothering or judging me. The urge to purge has been strong, but I have managed to suppress and overcome it. I’m close to pulling a Rachel and dancing naked in my apartment in celebration of finally being alone when I decide that I should probably be using this precious time to fill out my drop form. I can’t risk people finding out that I’m leaving, and now is the perfect time to do it. So, I order a pizza, some gooey chocolate chip cookies, and a 2-liter bottle of Coke and start prepping my materials when I hear a knock at my door. Closing my computer, I reluctantly get out of bed and walk toward the front door.
I look through the peephole, and the feeling in my gut is back.
Josh.
Ugh. When are they going to fix the stupid building gate?
Last week, before the whole thing with Tom even happened, I had finally admitted to Oliver and, more importantly, to myself what I’ve been repressing for so long: I have feelings for Josh. Big ones. To the external observer and to Josh, we had resolved our issues after his adorable apology in the library with snacks and junk food and are in a good place—back to being good friends. To me, interacting with Josh has become really difficult.
Yeah, I definitely have feelings. A million of them. I am a mess—my emotions are everywhere. I’m jealous of the time he is spending with Eloise (I mean, are they hooking up or not?). I spend every second of every day angry at myself, regretting never having given us a shot. I am scared nothing will ever happen between us.
But I am also scared somethingwillhappen between the two of us. I feel like I can admit it to myself that this thing with Oliver—though very,veryfun—had started in reaction to Josh. I can trace it back to feeling overwhelmed by him, by my interactions with him. Jesus, I mean, I even ran to Oliver so we could have sex a minute after Josh had apologized to me in that cute way.
It was like I was using my friends-with-benefits arrangement to build and solidify a wall between me and Josh. All those charged moments in Salisbury and Stonehenge where I felt like someone was punching me in the stomach, how hard it was to breathe around him sometimes… They all make so much sense now—I didn’t have Oliver as an outlet then.
God, I’m such a shitty person.
Not that Oliver gives a shit that I used him, but still.
Anyway, spending time with Josh has been super hard, so when he knocks for the second time, I need to take a deep breath to steady myself and slap on a fake smile before opening the door.
“Hey,” he says with a huge smile on his face.
I groan internally.
He looks so cute tonight.
He’s smiling his genuine smile tonight, not the pity kind that’s been plastered on his and everyone’s faces for the past few days. His blond hair is styled in the way I love, which he’s learned how to do in the past couple of months. His coat is open, and I can tell he’s wearing the blue button-down shirt that makes his eyes pop and shoulders look like home. I know that shirt well. Every time he wears it, I feel like pushing him onto my bed so I can lay my head on his chest and cuddle.
I’m suddenlyextremelyaware of how I must look. My signature at-home outfit is a messy top-knot, leggings, and oversized sweatshirt. And I can’t forget mentioning the crumbs covering most of my body! I’ve been putting in an effort for whenever I leave the apartment, but I seriously cannot be expected to give a shit when I’m indoors, especially if I’m home alone.
If I had known he was coming over, I would have cleaned up a bit. Changed my shirt. Brushed off the crumbs from my clothes and hair. But no, people just show up unannounced nowadays. I know that this thing with Josh is super unlikely, but I mean, give a girl a chance!
“I brought Wagamama,” he says, holding up the takeout bag in his hand with a hopeful smile.
“Great.” I take it from his hand. “It’ll go great with the Domino’s I just ordered.” He laughs as I push the door open to let him in and walk into the kitchen, Josh behind me.
