Potentially You and Me (Two Truths and a Lie)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: BRING TO A BOIL

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: BRING TO A BOIL

The weather is finally starting to get warmer, but this classroom is always cold. I always find myself reluctant to pull off my jacket or bringing an extra sweatshirt. The sunshine leaking through the windows on the opposite side of the room today allowed for only a sweatshirt.

My professor's skin looks blue, but it's not because she's cold. It's because of the projector light as she continues to lecture about the loss of biodiversity in plant species.

I keep my backpack pressed against my legs as I continue to take notes. When it vibrates the first time, I don't think much of it. The second, third, and fourth times are no different because I assume it's just Savannah yelling at Stephanie or making fun of Megan in the group chat. It's only when I start to lose count, and the sound even pulls the sleepy people around me upright in their seats, do I finally push my chair back.

Freaking Bullsh*t. Savannah's texts floats in from the group chat.

Stephanie sends another picture that covers it.

People suck. Savannah always types fast.

Agreed. Megan finally chimes in.

All the while Stephanie continues to send pictures that make my steps falter in front of the bathroom when I finally click on them.

There's a bunch of candid photos of a group of guys. Some are making funny faces and jokingly choke holding each other. Others are just grinning at the camera like fools. All I see is the smiling green-eyed boy saluting the camera with his own red plastic cup. The same purple bagged, solemn eyes that held my gaze a few days ago. The same light eyelashes, dark eyebrows and sunspots, but now with the addition of crinkles in the corners. Crinkles I used to want to trace my fingertips along and instill in my memory. Now all I want to do is pinch them between my fingers until they shrivel up and disappear.

I really hate people. Savannah continues to comment.

Megan goes to type something but stops.

??? Stephanie sends me a separate text message.

I lock my screen, so it goes black and head back into my classroom feeling colder than when I left.

I'm the first one out of the classroom, but each step I take just feels heavier and heavier. I clench and unclench my fists, bite my lip, and blink way too many times. I wish my body would just stick to one emotion, but instead here I am.

Sad because I miss him. Angry at myself for missing him.

Sad because I used to have this whole person. Angry because I shouldn't have let myself get so used to having this person.

Sad because I still care even though I don't want to. Angry because now it seems like he doesn't, and maybe never even did.

Sad because I want to go back in time and pretend like I heard nothing. Angry because what if everything I ever heard was really nothing but a lie.

I slam the door closed behind me and throw my backpack into the floor. I kick off my shoes, rip off my sweatshirt, and dig my hands into my hair.

But the corners of my eyes still sting.

No matter how many things I bang, push, and shove open or closed. No matter how many memories I bang, push, and shove away.

Everything continues to boil to the surface.

I dig my phone out of my bag and click on a contact just as there's a knock at the door. I go over and push down on the handle. I don't even look up as I throw open the door and turn to walk away, but my eyes catch on to plaid and it's not the black and red checkered plaid that Stephanie usually wears, but rather a white and red and blue and even yellow lined and checkered pattern.