Page 50 of I Wish I Would've Chosen You

The room instantly falls silent.

Mr. Donovan crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at me.

Before he can reject the idea, I pull up the essay on my phone to read.

“The dream of making friends has always lured me away from campus, away from my peers, in search of someone who can talk to me about the things they ‘think’ a young college-bound woman wants to hear. And one night, I found exactly the type of man I was looking for.”

A few of the girls lean closer, intrigued.

“We met in the bathroom of all places, struck up a quick conversation of why I was someplace I didn’t belong, and he had no idea he was speaking a double entendre.”

I glance at Mr. Donovan, noticing him swallowing his anger, but I continue.

“He was the sexiest man I’d ever seen in my life, and I wanted him to kiss me in the middle of our four hour conversation, to show me what a night of passion would be like with someone experienced, someone who understood me on a level that boys at school couldn’t.”

“I was nearly granted my wish when he leaned forward and promised to taste my pussy, to leave me dripping wet after an orgasm. He was that confident and willing to show me how far into ecstasy his tongue could drive my body.”

“That’senough, Miss Edwards,” Mr. Donovan interrupts, his voice terse.

“But our night was cut short.” I ignore his warning. “He received an urgent call and there was someplace he needed to be. Someplace that wasn’t with me.”

“He asked for my phone number, told me he’d call the next day so we could pick up our story on the very page we’d last writen together, but I’m still waiting for us to get to the next chapter…The end.”

The room remains silent for several seconds, until a high pitched squeal breaks out from the rear.

“Waitttt!” Elizabeth Smith rushes down the steps. “Did he ever call you?”

“He did,” I say. “But not the next day.”

“Have you talked to him since?”

“A few times,” I say, “but I think he’s trying to get rid of me since he’s older.”

“Or maybe he’s realizing how immature you really are.” Mr. Donovan is glaring at me.

“My cousin dated an older man once,” Chelsea Hastings says from behind. “It worked out really well for them.”

“I like older guys,” Britney Kline chimes in. “What was the last conversation you had with him? Perhaps I can give you some charitable help to get him back.”

The conversation derails, and Mr. Donovan doesn’t attempt to steer it onto the tracks.

At the end of class, I leave without looking his way, and he finally sends me a text.

Mr. Donovan

Thank you for showing me exactly why whatever we had is DONE.

5

LIAM

“We don’t accept returns on prepaid phones, sir.” The Walgreens employee pops her gum the following Saturday.

“I’m not asking toreturn it,” I say. “I’m just asking if there’s another way to unfreeze the screen, so I can delete my browser history.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

I’m tired of her asking me these questions. “Can I speak to another employee, please?”

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