turnpike

v

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Twenty minutes and ten more texts later, I'm standing outside of his door.

"I thought you'd bailed on me," he exhales as he ushers me inside. "What took you so long? Get lost or something?"

I close the door behind me and hitch my purse higher up on my shoulder. It's heavier now, packed with not only my chemistry textbook, but a change of clothes for tomorrow morning. I'm not sure what possessed me to do this, because I'm sure he won't ask me to spend the night again—once was enough, and it ended in disaster after all. Still, something about tonight feels different and I refuse to be unprepared.

"I was out with a friend," I say, brushing past him to get to the living room. I drop the tote by the coffee table and cross my arms over my chest, an attempt to hide how much my hands are shaking. "So... did you want to study or something? I brought my book like you told me to. And I already went through some of the chapters, so I brought those notes with me. Lecture notes, too. Is that okay? You didn't want me to bring anything else, right?"

He seems to find some sort of amusement in my ramblings, or maybe he's just laughing at how nervous I am. Either way, I take this as a sign to shut my mouth and bite back the tears of embarrassment. It may be a little thing to get worked up over, but with the past couple days we've had, it's enough to push me to my breaking point.

"Jesus, baby, chill out." He grins as he approaches, arms outstretched for a hug. "What's got you so tense, huh?"

You, I want to tell him as he pulls me into his chest, but I keep quiet and let my cheek touch the Greek letters on his shirt. He pulls away before I can return the embrace and saunters off towards the kitchen.

"I ordered Thai," he calls over his shoulder. "Figured we could eat before we tried to study. The test is tomorrow, right? I'll be pissed if I got the date wrong."

I tell him he's right, that our last chemistry exam before the final is indeed tomorrow. I'm surprised he even realized we were in the same class; we usually sit on opposite ends of the lecture hall, and he's never even once glanced in my direction during class. He's always too busy chatting with his Pi Sig brothers to bother paying attention to anything or anyone else.

I don't have the heart to tell him that I had a salad while out with Ashleigh, so I wander into the kitchen and allow him to pile food onto my plate. I doubt I'll consume much of it. I'm not hungry, plus the idea of eating in front of him makes me want to panic.

I manage to choke down a few bites once we're sitting together in the living room, him sprawled across a leather armchair while I'm cross-legged on the floor. I eat slowly and wait until he's almost finished to push the rest of the food around on my plate, making it look like I've eaten more than I have. I'm sure he won't notice—or even care—that I've barely had anything, but the paranoid part of me doesn't want to run the risk of upsetting him.

His plate is empty in no time, and I gather it up with mine without having to be asked. He murmurs his thanks before tipping a bottle of Coke against his lips, eyes drifting towards the muted television. I take a moment to breathe once I'm alone in the kitchen, knowing I have to loosen up if I want to make it out of here without having a breakdown. The last thing I need is for him to witness the fall of this facade I've worked so hard to keep in place.

He'd never let me live that down. Or, at least, I never would.

I wipe my palms on the sides of my jeans and force myself back out there, hoping my lack of composure doesn't show, but I know I'm fucked as soon as he takes one look at me.

"Are you okay?"

He speaks as if, for once, he may just be concerned about my wellbeing. I know better than to believe it, but I force a smile anyway.