Page 53 of Fall From Grace
I sigh a harsh, explosive sigh. My first instinct is to argue with her, but honestly? She’s right. She’s naive and I’m cynical. We’re a strange fucking pair, aren’t we? “I guess we’re both fucked up, then.”
Something passes on her face, I can’t say what. She’s quiet when she says, “I don’t think you’re that messed up. Whatever happened, everybody makes mistakes, even us perfectionists.”She raises her glass of Dr. Pepper, as if saluting herself, and then takes a deep sip.
With a shake of my head, I mutter, “I bet the only mistake you’ve made, besides wasting so much time with your ex, was coming home with me.” I don’t know why I say it, but once it’s out there, I can’t take it back. There’s no rewind button, no undo. The moment the words are out, she hears them, and I’m stuck sitting there, waiting to hear what she has to say to that.
“For a little while… yeah, I thought it was a mistake.” She says that, and I kid you not, that dumb thing inside my chest constricts, like she’s pushing a knife through it. “But now? Now I think, maybe, it was fate trying to tell me something.” Wren looks deeply into my eyes when she says, “I don’t think it was a mistake.”
Fate. It’s something we used to sing about all the time, when I was a member of Black Sacrament. I didn’t think it actually existed, though.
I open my mouth to say something, but before I have the chance to, a large plate of cheesy fries is set before us, and Wren thanks the server before plucking one of the fries on top and saying, “This looks so good.” Then she stuffs that cheese-covered fry into her mouth and chews—and only seconds later does she open her mouth in an O-shape and breathe in and out quickly while fanning herself. I lift a single brow at her, and when she finally manages to swallow, she giggles and says, “They’re really hot.”
I’m grinning at her before I even realize it, and when I do realize it, I force myself to scowl and look away, giving her the back of my head as I try to wrangle my emotions under control.
Why is this girl, this random girl, this nobody, pulling these emotions out of me like it’s easy? Why do I feel so much better when I’m with her? Goddamn it. I feel like I’m going insane.
I mean, look at where we are: a karaoke bar. Look at what she’s going to have me do later: sing, the one thing I swore I’d never do again. She caught me at the cemetery, pissed me off, and then… then managed to bring me here like it’s all fine.
It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m not a walking contradiction. I’m totally fine.Everything is fine.
Fuck. Nothing is fine. I’m losing my mind. Here I thought I could come to MSU and be the person I would’ve been if I never was Pope. Just a college student who likes to party and drink a bit too much. I didn’t think I’d meet some random girl who makes me feel all these confusing things.
Once I’m certain I have myself under control, I grab a pair of cheesy fries and shove them in my mouth, and she watches me do it, still paying a bit too much attention to me. “Do you have any siblings?” she asks.
Is this really what dates are like, or are we just not good at this? Either way, I find myself mumbling, “I have one brother. He’s younger than me. We… don’t really talk much anymore.” Although, now that I’m thinking about it, even when I was in Black Sacrament, we didn’t talk that much. When we weren’t working, I was always off, living it up.
Maybe at the time I was too self-absorbed to see things how they really were. That’s a really depressing thing to realize.
“Why not?” Wren asks.
I shrug. “We don’t see each other much. He’s… got his own thing going on, and I got mine. It is what it is. Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure. We can talk about what we’re doing our group project on: the psychology of avoidance.” The way she says it, so matter-of-factly, like it’s already been decided—and I suppose it has. Wasn’t tonight the deadline to turn in our topic? I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit that I forgot.
But of course she didn’t, because she never forgets anything when it comes to schoolwork.
“Ah,” I grumble, “so that’s why we’re here? Going to make us both the topic of our project?”
“And what if I am?”
I shake my head and say, “You should’ve picked something more interesting.” Anything else, really. I don’t think I’ll have an issue protecting who I used to be, but still, I don’t like the thought of her writing anything about us. And let’s not forget the presentation. Why couldn’t she pick something else?
“I figured this way, it’d force me to get back into singing. And you… it’s obviously a sore subject with you, too. The things we want to avoid are linked to singing, so I thought it’d help us both.” Quieter, she adds, “If it upsets you that much, I can always email Reese and see if we can swap topics.”
My brows furrow, and I can’t stop the jealousy from rising in my tone when I say, “Reese? Is that what we’re calling our professor now?” The way she looks down at her lap and kicks the soles of her shoes against the wooden floor make me even more envious, like she’s hiding something.
“I went to see him during his office hours.”
Grinding my teeth, I ask, “Why?”
The way she bites the inside of her cheek tells me she doesn’t want to say, but I’m not letting her get out of this one. The thought of her, alone in a room with our young professor, fills me with an emotion I can only label as rage. Rage laced with jealousy.
Hey, if you’re looking for a green flag-waving man, look somewhere else.
“I was upset with you. I wanted to see if I could do the project on my own.” Wren sighs. “He didn’t let me.”
“Uh-huh. Is that all he said?”
“He said if I have any trouble with you, to let him know.” When I exhale a loud breath, she looks at me strangely. “What? Why? He’s nice—a lot nicer than you. Pretty cute, too.” When she says that, she blushes and glances away.
