Ten Ways | ✓

way five

"That's awesome!" James exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face.

"You didn't let me finish," I said. "I don't feel like I need to drop out, but I definitely do think a change of major is in order."

He scoffed. "You're so dramatic. I'm sure you did just fine."

The faith he had in me was nice, but I really didn't think that my performance on the exam was all that great. Sure, I had a decent grasp of most of the material—and by decent grasp, I mean a very basic understanding—but that only helped with the simple problems. So, when I reached the challenge problems the professor threw in to make students like me suffer, I was lost. I didn't have a definitive idea of what my exam grade was, but I figured it was somewhere around the low C range. A slight improvement from last semester, but definitely nothing to write home about.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. How did lab go this morning?" I was desperate to change the subject. There were already a million things to be stressed about this weekend; the last thing either of us needed was to add something else to the list.

James shrugged. "It wasn't bad. Boring, but that's to be expected. Although, it was a little weird when I left class today and saw Chuck waiting for me outside of the classroom. Apparently, he thought I'd skip again this week, so he wanted to check that I actually showed up to class."

My grip on the steering wheel tightened as I processed his words. What the hell? "That's actually so messed up. I know I say that about pretty much everything he does, but this really takes the cake."

"I understand where he's coming from, though," James mused. "I mean, think about it. Last week, I skipped to go hang out at a bar with a bunch of dudes—"

"—who are your friends," I interjected. "It's not like you were out with a bunch of random guys who don't know about Chuck and would try and make a move. They're people you know. Chuck can't possibly be this mad at you for spending time with friends. That'd make him the biggest prick alive, not that he hasn't already secured that title for himself."

I wanted to grab James by the shoulders and shake him until some sense got knocked into him. He couldn't possibly be justifying Chuck's ridiculous actions. How could he? He hadn't done anything wrong. Sure, he went out and didn't inform his boyfriend about it, but did that warrant surveillance?

"Look, I know that you're not his biggest fan, but just put yourself in his shoes for a second. Pretend that you're him."

To even imagine a world in which I was Chuck was enough to induce decades worth of nightmares. "I just want you to know that years from now, when I'm in therapy and my shrink is trying to figure out why I'm so fucked up, they'll trace it back to this exact moment: the moment that I pretend to be that asshole."

My words were met with a roll of James' eyes. Unsurprising.

"Just do it. Imagine how you'd feel if your significant other was off at the bar and told you absolutely nothing about it," he prompted. "Imagine waking up the next morning to seeing videos of whoever you're with literally serenading their friend—the friend who you think they're hooking up with behind your back. Wouldn't you do the same?"

I still couldn't seem to wrap my head around the fact that he was trying to advocate for Chuck in this situation; it was obvious that his boyfriend was going the extra mile, turning a small understanding into a colossal problem that would plague them for weeks to come.

"Well, first I wouldn't think that they're hooking up with their best friend," I responded immediately. "I mean, if they'd known their friend for a while... if anything romantic was going to happen, it would have happened already."