Chapter 23: Chapter 23

AMY

Moonlight spills across my cluttered dorm room, throwing long, ominous shadows over the tattered carpet.

I haven’t slept at all since I left Tristan’s room a few hours ago.

That text. Oh God, that awful text…

Amy

Turns out you really are boring.

How could I have written something so mean? Why couldn’t I just say that I loathe him? It would have been a lie. Even after everything he’s done, I can’t find it in me to hate. Not when he’s made me feel more alive in these past few weeks than I’ve ever felt in my entire twenty-one years of existence. He may have betrayed me, but he yanked me out of my safe inner world that provided tranquility but never joy.

Still, I should have said I hated him in that text, even if it’s not the truth. Boredom is so much worse than hatred. It’s tepid and soft. I pride myself on being blunt, and I couldn’t even be honest about the intensity of my feelings for him.

I never expected this unbearable weight bearing down on my chest. Regardless of what he feels for Harper, he’ll be hurt when he reads my text. Is he hurt already, wracking his brain trying to figure out what he did wrong?

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Sneaking out of his bed and sending that text was supposed to be empowering. Instead, my childish pettiness clings to my skin, making it hot and itchy.

A sudden, violent pounding on the door shatters the silence. Jenna stirs, rubbing her eyes as she sits up. Confusion is etched on her face in the dim light.

“What’s happening?” Her voice is scratchy from sleep.

“It’s Tristan,” I whisper, panic flaring up like a match struck in the dark. “Don’t open it.”

I can’t see him now. Not in my current state, with self-recrimination squeezing my chest. I don’t even know myself. Turns out this soft, fragile heart of mine is edged with thorns.

My roommate glances at the door and then back at me. Her eyebrows knit together in a silent question.

“I don’t want to see him,” I mouth. My heart hammers in my ears, muffling the steady thumps on the door.

“Whoever you are, go away!” Jenna calls out, but I catch the wariness in her voice.

“No.” Tristan’s voice booms through the door. “I need to talk to Amy.”

The pounding doesn’t stop. It grows louder, more insistent, like a drumbeat. My stomach knots, and I sink further into the mattress, willing myself to become part of its fibers—anything to escape the reality waiting on the other side of that door.

He’s furious. I can almost feel his anger radiating through the room.

Jenna’s gaze locks onto mine, searching for guidance. I shake my head at her. “Tell him I’m not here,” I whisper.

Jenna’s face grows pained. Poor thing. Given Tristan’s current mood, I wouldn’t want to be forced to lie to him either.

“Amy’s not here!” Jenna calls out.

I put both hands on the center of my chest and mouth, “Thank you.”

“You’re lying,” Tristan shouts back, his voice laced with a mix of desperation and rage. “I know she’s there. Amy, we need to talk. Now.”

I press my palms against my ears, wishing I could dissolve into my mattress and disappear.

Our tiny dorm room seems so much smaller, as if the walls are closing in on me. How long can I just sit here while he pounds on the door?

“Jenna,” I whisper, “tell him you’ll call the cops if he doesn’t stop.”

Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head slightly.

“Please,” I whisper. “I’ll make sure he knows I put you up to it. Later. I just can’t deal with him right now.”

Jenna gives me a jerky nod. She looks toward the door and then back at me. “Tristan,” she says, raising her chin. “I’ll call the campus police if you don’t leave.”

A pained groan echoes from the door, and the pounding stops. The room grows starkly quiet. No footsteps, which means he’s still standing there. If I could see his face right now, would I be able to send him away?

After all his lies, I don’t owe him anything. I may wish that I had withheld my cruelty, but it doesn’t change what happened. He slept with Harper only hours after he told me I was precious to him. At the very least, he deserves to be ghosted.

Oh God, why couldn’t I have just done that? Why couldn’t I have withdrawn from the competition as soon as Harper left my room and then ghosted him afterward? It would have stung his ego almost as much, and my conscience wouldn’t threaten to choke me over it.

“Amy,” Tristan says softly. “I know you’re in there. Can you please come out here and talk to me? Just for a second. Please.”

The longing in his voice squeezes my heart, but I have to ignore it. He slept with Harper. He never mentioned the fraternity bet he made weeks ago to me.

I shake my head at Jenna, and she seems to have gained some confidence, because her expression is stern. “Tristan, it’s five in the morning. Amy will talk to you later. Please let me sleep.”

A thump sounds on the door, but it doesn’t sound like a knock. Did Tristan just slump against it? Is he that dejected?

“Amy, please.” Tristan’s voice is barely audible now, the fight drained out of it. “Whatever went wrong last night…I need to know. You’re upset with me about something. Don’t pretend like you’re not. Don’t hide away from me.”

I pull the covers tighter around me, as if they can shield me from his sudden vulnerability. I don’t know how he does it. He sounds so sincere, like he’s really done nothing wrong.

Maybe he’s one of those people who can compartmentalize, like the men who cheat on their wives and yet expect fidelity from them. Appearances dictate their moral code. If they look like the good guy, they expect to be rewarded for it. Tristan has~ seemed~ like the good guy these past few weeks. He showered me with attention and gifts. Maybe that makes him feel entitled to me.

“Tristan,” Jenna says, her voice steady now. “I promise you Amy will talk to you later. I’ll tell her she has to.” She shoots me a stern look, and I nod.

She’s right that I need to talk to him at some point. I need to finally admit everything I know. That’s what a mature person would do.

We have a group hike for the game on Saturday. Our final group date. I can pull him aside at some point, though I’ll have to steel myself for it.

“Okay.” Tristan’s voice is ragged. “Tell Amy I’m sorry for…whatever happened.”

A long silence follows, seeping under the door and wrapping itself around my neck. Oh, why couldn’t I have done everything differently?

“This isn’t over.” Tristan’s voice scrapes through the quiet. “We ~will~ talk.” With that, the sound of his big footsteps pound down the hall and slowly fade away.

I slump into my bed, energy draining from my body. Why do I feel so utterly betrayed? Tristan never made any promises of fidelity to me. He’s probably accustomed to having dozens of women at his beck and call.

I could never be one of those women. A casual fling with Tristan Wolfe would shatter me. Even through my rage, my heart softened like butter in a hot pan when he held me naked in his arms.

I’d be doomed to fall in love with him.

~“Years, Amy,”~ he’d said. ~“And it was worth the wait.”~

Even now, those words make my chest so tight that it’s hard to take a breath.

I’m glad I ended everything suddenly, but I wish I had handled it with more maturity. If only I had taken time to process Harper’s information—that heartbreaking picture of Tristan shirtless in bed—before I went to his house. I might have chosen a different path, like yelling at him for being so deceitful.

No, I never could’ve done that. I was too hell-bent on hiding my feelings from him, on proving to him that I don’t care.

Jenna turns to me with furrowed brows. “What happened?”

I groan. “I slept with him and then snuck out of his room.”

She frowns. “Why would you do that? He obviously really likes you.”

I sigh. “He doesn’t. He’s your typical fuckboy. He’s still sleeping with Harper.”

Her eyes grow wide. “Did you know that when you slept with him?”

My throat freezes. What would she think if I told her I slept with him ~because~ I knew? It’s all so dirty and underhanded, and I’ve never let Jenna see that vindictive side of me, never told her about my revenge plan.

She’d be horrified.

“I’ll tell you everything…eventually. I’m exhausted. Can we go back to sleep?”

“Sure. It sounds like you’ve had a rough night.” She smiles sadly before wrapping herself in her comforter and plopping back on her bed.

I know sleep won’t come. My thoughts are as tangled as vines in an overgrown garden. My chest aches with a hollow throb. I have to squash this guilt somehow. It won’t do me any good.

I can only move forward.

I need to talk to Serena. She needs to help me come up with a plan for how to get through the rest of the game without crumbling.