Page 23 of I Wish I Would've Chosen You

2. The social norms of the Victorian era prohibited women from experiencing a true concept of love.

3. There is no correlation between romance and love, and the following essay will prove this concept.

I groan at the lack of creativity.

Against my better judgment, I flip through the stack in search of Genevieve’s essay. I can’t help skimming a few paragraphs.

I’ll never understand why there’s so much hatred lobbed at the romance genre.

Every fantasy, thriller, and suspense novel has to tie in an element of love to make us care about the characters, and love is the ground on which the most memorable stories are rooted.

Alas, the best love stories are written amid heartbreak and desperation. How else can an author know how to effectively pull a reader’s heartstrings without first getting hers torn apart and sutured together in countless ways?

I’ve been desperate enough to fall for anyone, to get a taste of what that feels like, desperate enough to lie.

“Desperate enough to lie.”

This is where I need to stop reading and email my teacher’s aide. I need to tell her that she’s responsible for grading all the essays written by my mentee group so that I can spare myself any additional time with this woman.

Well, teenager.

Student.

Shit.

The personification of a bridge in her next paragraph catches my attention, and before I know it, I’ve finished reading her paper.

Only six sentences need corrections, and I have no choice but to give her an A.

Well, no.

She gets an A-minus.

2

LIAM

Monday morning

“Oh my god, I need a break!” Miss Shaw stops at a tree, bending over to catch her breath.

This is her fourth time stopping, and we only started running fifteen minutes ago.

“The elevation… in New Hampshire… is just—” She coughs. “Whew. This running thing is not for the faint of heart.”

I hand her my water bottle. “Let’s just walk the rest of the route.”

“You’re tired already, Liam?”

“Yeah,” I say, deciding to play along. “I guess I have to get used to the ‘elevation.’”

“Totally understand. It takes me by surprise sometimes, too.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes as we walk through the quad.

“Don’t look too hard, but that’s Alice Stafford,” she says, nodding toward a brunette. “She’s fucked the entire rugby team.”

“Hey Alice!” She waves to her. “Looking forward to seeing your short film in class later.”

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