The cafeteria buzzes with laughter and conversation that doesn’t include me. I poke at my soggy fries with a plastic fork, creating little trenches in the ketchup lake on my plate. Day seven of radio silence from Ashley.
Well, not complete silence. We still exchange the obligatory nods in English class, and there’s been the occasional text, mostly her asking if I’ve seen her water bottle or reminding me not to tell anyone we’re not really dating if Portia brings it up in lab. Nothing about when she’s coming over again. Nothing about whether her master plan worked or failed.
Nothing about us.
I shouldn’t care. This was always the deal, I was just practice equipment with a pulse. A living, breathing sex toy that would be discarded once its purpose was served.
The fork snaps between my fingers. Cheap campus plastic.
Being friendless again stings, but not as badly as the first time. It’s like a broken bone that never healed right, it hurts when it rains, but you learn to live with the ache. At least this time I know exactly what I did wrong. I got attached.
I’ve gotten pretty good at this emotionless husk routine. Bury the feelings deep. Don’t show anything on your face. Just keep moving through each day like you’re sleepwalking. Maybe someday it’ll hurt less. Or maybe this is just what my entire life is going to be. A series of people realizing I’m not worth keeping around.
God, I just want to go home and sleep for about twelve years.
“You look like you’re contemplating whether to jump off a bridge or just swallow those fork pieces.”
I glance up to find Portia sliding into the seat across from me, her purple hair falling dramatically over one eye as she sets down a tray containing what appears to be a salad that costs more than my entire meal.
“What do you want?” I mumble, not bothering to hide my irritation.
Her amber eyes sparkle with amusement. “Such hostility! And here I thought we were becoming friends.”
“We’re lab partners, Portia. Not friends.”
She studies me for a moment, head tilted like I’m some fascinating science experiment. “Trouble in paradise? I haven’t seen you with your girlfriend lately.”
I stare at my destroyed fork, wondering if I could somehow use it to teleport myself anywhere else. “Ashley’s busy.”
“Hmm...” Portia taps her chin with one perfectly manicured finger, her eyes narrowing as she studies me. “No, I think you two are fighting.”
I stare at her, and something inside me just... breaks. The heavy weight of depression that’s been crushing me suddenly feels like it’s reached critical mass. I’m so exhausted, so empty, that I can’t even muster the energy to be embarrassed about my pathetic situation anymore.
“Portia, fuck off,” I say calmly, my voice flat and dead. “I can’t... I don’t have it in me to play your games. I just want to graduate and try not to kill myself.”
Portia’s expression shifts. Her amber eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, I think I’ve actually shocked her into silence. But then her lips curl into a smile that stretches wider than I’ve ever seen on her face.
“Vincent,” she says, leaning forward across the table. Her hand reaches out and touches my arm, her fingers surprisingly warm against my skin. “Do you want to skip class with me? I can take you for a ride in my convertible. Maybe I can show you my apartment?”
I stare at her for a beat, processing the absurdity of the moment. Then it hits me, the sheer ridiculousness of this rich, beautiful girl asking me, Vincent Hayes, social pariah and emotional trainwreck, to skip class with her. The laugh starts as a small huff of disbelief, then builds in my chest until I’m doubled over, clutching my stomach as tears spring to my eyes.
I can’t stop. The laughter keeps coming, bubbling up from some deep well of hysteria I didn’t know I had. It’s not even funny, that’s the worst part. It’s just so fucking pathetic that this is my life right now.
Portia watches me with that calculating expression. When I finally manage to catch my breath, wiping tears from my eyes, she hasn’t moved.
Portia’s smile fades, her amber eyes narrowing as she watches my laughter die down. “What’s so funny?” she asks, annoyance creeping into her usually controlled voice.
I finally get control of myself, the laughter tapering off into a tired sigh. I wipe the last tears from my eyes and look at her, really look at her.
“What exactly is your goal here, Portia? Sleep with the pathetic loser who has a girlfriend just so you can feel superior to someone you barely know? Is that what gets you off?” I shake my head. “Even if I did sleep with you, it wouldn’t change anything. My life would still be a mess. Actually, it would probably make things worse.”
Portia’s eyes widen slightly, her perfect eyebrows arching in what looks like genuine surprise.
“How presumptuous of you,” she says, her voice silky smooth despite the slight edge to it. “Perhaps I simply enjoy your company.”
I stare at her, too gone to even pretend to believe that. “Maybe I’m wrong. I don’t know.” I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. “I don’t care, Portia. I’m just... really tired lately.”
“What if I wanted to fix you, Vincent?” Portia asks, her head tilting to one side like she’s studying a particularly interesting bug.
I can’t help but snort at that. “You don’t really give off big ‘fixing’ energy, Portia.”
She stares at me, those amber eyes boring into mine with an intensity that makes me want to look away. I don’t.
“Come on,” she says, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s just a drive. Won’t it make your girlfriend jealous? Wouldn’t that be nice?”
I sit back, actually considering it for a moment. The thought of Ashley caring enough to be jealous seems laughable. Why would she care if I went for a drive with Portia? But maybe... just maybe, if she saw me with someone else, someone like Portia...
“Alright,” I hear myself say before I can stop it. “Let’s go for a ride.”
Portia’s face lights up with a surprised smile that’s almost genuine. She grabs her keys from her designer purse, the metal catching the fluorescent cafeteria lights.
“Good choice.”