Page 20 of Fall From Grace
“Hey, I take offense to that, you know. I’m not some dumb asshole, I—” He chuckles at that. “No, I can’t even finish that sentence. When I saw you were done, I went through the rest of the questions and circled random answers.” When I give him another look, he shrugs. “What? The professor said we’d get full credit as long as we turned it in. I turned it in, so full credit.”
I scoff, “It’s probably the only test you’ll get full credit on.”
“Ouch.”
“Am I wrong?”
“Nah, you’re not. I fucking hate tests.”
“If you hate tests, then why are you here? College is full of exams and papers and everything else you probably hate, too.” It’s strange—it’s easy to talk to him now, now that I got what I wanted from him. It isn’t like I have a crush on him; he can fall off a cliff and I wouldn’t care.
Well, maybe a little, because of stupid empathy, but you get what I mean.
Logan deadpans, “You mean you don’t think I’m here to further my education?” He can barely finish the question before he makes himself laugh. “Fuck no. I chose this school because I heard the party scene is hopping. You’re going to some parties this weekend, aren’t you? First week of classes, there has to be plenty to choose from.”
I stop walking and turn to look at him. Since it’s between classes, the sidewalks are pretty empty, meaning we aren’t in anyone’s way when we stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “I didn’t come here to party.”
He cocks his black-haired head at me. “You don’t say?”
Groaning, I mutter, “Why are you even talking to me?”
“Maybe I have a thing for nerds.” When I lift my eyebrows at him, he adds, “Or maybe I like the chase. I’ve never had to chase a girl before. It’s kind of fun.”
“Wow. You’re really full of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Is it that obvious?” He flashes me a smirk, and beneath that smirk is a set of pearly whites, teeth that are well taken care of.
“Look, I’m going to say it nice and slow so you can understand: I’m. Not. Interested. What happened last week was just a… I used you, okay? I just found out my boyfriend of four years was cheating on me with my best friend since second grade, for the last two years. I wanted to forget, to see what it’s like. You helped out, so thanks, but I don’t need anything else from you.”
Wow, listen to me. I sound mean. That’s new for me, but I think it’s the only way to get it through this guy’s thick skull.
At least, I think I sound mean. I don’t think my voice wavers. It might. Ugh, see? I’m not good at this stuff. I’m not used to telling people off or being mean. And, of course, bringing up my ex and my ex best friend makes me think of what I saw, and everything I try to keep buried down, all of the pain and hurt, that soul-shattering ache, rises to the surface, causing tears to form way too quickly.
I don’t want him to see me cry, so I quickly turn away from him and hurry along. I don’t run away, but I do walk pretty darn fast. He doesn’t chase after me again, thank goodness, and I’m able to keep my tears contained until I get home. It’s only when I’m alone in my room that I collapse on my bed and let it out.
This pain… when will it disappear for good? When will it feel more like a scar and less like an open wound? I hate it. I honestly hate it, and I hate the feelings that accompany it. Feeling not good enough is the story of my life, but with Mike and Meghan going behind my back, they pretty much proved it to me.
I’m not good enough, no matter how hard I try.
Chapter Ten – Reese
Wren Lyons. I have a name for the face now, a name for the face of the girl who wasn’t paying attention to where she was going and walked into me last week. I tried making a joke about myself, but I could tell she wanted to be anywhere but there, so instead of introducing myself as Reese Scott, I told her I had a meeting to get to and let her leave.
Now I can look forward to seeing her three times a week. A front-row student. The ones who sit in the front row are always the ones who want to pay the most attention, the ones who want to learn, whereas the ones who sit in the back tend to fiddle on their phones and play on their tablets and laptops the entire time.
She was the first to turn in her test, having flipped through it almost too quickly—though she was followed by the student sitting next to her. Unlike her, though, he seemed to randomly circle answers just so he could catch up with her, and once he hands in his test, I know his name, too: Logan Crew.
I know Logan’s type. Pushy, overbearing, the kind of guy who doesn’t take no for an answer. It seems a bit early in the year for someone like him to be locked into someone like Wren. Granted, I don’t know much about the girl, but she seems like the opposite of Logan in nearly every way.
As I wait for other students to turn their tests in, I go through Wren’s. I know the answers off the top of my head; I don’t need the answer key. I go through the first page, then the second, and the third. Page after page.
Every single question… she answered correctly.
I don’t know that I’ve ever encountered that before. Either she knows all the material already, or she’s a really good guesser—but I have the feeling it’s the former and not the latter. Shedoesn’t strike me as someone who likes to guess on anything. No, she likes knowing the answers. She likes being prepared.
Now that is something we both have in common. I might seem like I’m forgetful or constantly late, but it’s nothing more than a ploy. You see, when you constantly do something, people assume it’s simply a part of your personality.
My personality? I never run late. I’m not forgetful. I’m a planner to my core. You have to be, when you like doing what I do.
