CHAPTER FIVE
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2021
Naturally, Ingrid knew all about the lecture as soon as it ended. She bombarded our phones with text messages, flooding our group chats across various social media platforms because we hadn't replied to the original texts, and I wasn't sure what to tell her. Being around Savannah when she was this upset did nothing to ease my guilt.
I hadn't even bothered asking Chase about Savannah; I just knew I wanted her out, far from my relationship so she wouldn't ruin it. Maybe he liked her as a student more than he liked me. Maybe she'd be a much better fit for his advising program than I was. Maybe I had just screwed her over for no reason and wanted to come up with excuses to not feel as bad as I currently did. Looking back on my conversation with him, I could barely recognize myself; why in the world had I said those things about my best friend?
Ingrid demanded, besides immediate attention, a girl's night. I already had plans with Chase, for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, instead of spending the entire day waiting for him to text me and decide he wanted to see me after all. This felt almost like an emergency, with Savannah straight up hyperventilating in the bathroom (coincidentally, the one where I'd met Ingrid, all those years ago), and, regardless of how much I hated to blow Chase off, my friend needed me.
Seeing her burst through the bathroom was a breath of fresh air. Her floral perfume quickly overpowered the poignant smell of disinfectant and, even though she was fuming, I still felt strangely glad to see her. Probably because she was more detached from my personal life and a film degree than Savannah was; at the same time, she was also more inquisitive, more introspective.
She was a liability to the plan. I needed to stay on her good side to ensure she wouldn't pry too much, learn too much, reveal too much.
"We'll stay in tonight, open the wine," Ingrid suggested, throwing her hair back over her shoulder in that way only she knew how to, and returned to gently patting Savannah's face with a paper tissue. The ones she'd thrown out were wet, smudged with mascara and foundation. "I'm actually not sure if there's any wine left in the apartment, but I can hook us up."
I had no doubt in the world she could. If there was anyone in the world who could 'hook us up' with anything, anytime, and, though I had no idea how she managed to do it, it was always something we could count on her for. I knew that, as soon as we went back to our apartment, there would be bottles of wine waiting for us, along with charcuterie boards.
Any other day, in any other reality, I'd be super down. I'd be excited, even. However, I couldn't treat Chase like that, like some guy I could afford the luxury of blowing off or even losing, knowing damn well how much he was risking just to spend some extra time with me outside of campus. I didn't know when I'd get another chance like this.
She must have sensed my ambivalence, since she straightened, then turned to me.
"Don't even think about bailing on us," Ingrid said. "We barely see you as is. Can't you just hang out with us once? For Savannah's sake?"
"Ingrid, it's fine," Savannah muttered, even though all of us knew Ingrid was right, deep down. It wasn't fair for them to never get to see me, but it wasn't fair that I had to choose. I couldn't explain why I couldn't be there without running the risk of ruining Chase's entire career and our relationship, not even to the two people closest to me, and it felt like I was twisting knives into their backs with every lie that slipped from my tongue. "I'm fine. We don't have to do anything. I just want to get through the rest of the day, then go to bed. Get some ice cream andâ"
"Nonsense. We're getting the damn wine, all three of us. Penny, I honestly don't care if you have plans with Marco. Friends are more important than this guy you've supposedly been 'seeing' for a few months."
Her words stung like poison. Not just because I knew she meant to hurt me, but because it also felt like there was some hidden meaning behind them. I'd managed to completely forget about Marco during Chase's lecture for multiple reasons, but I'd also forgotten about keeping up with the lie around Savannah and Ingrid, even though I'd never confirmed anything about a relationship with someone I didn't actually know. The issue was that I'd never denied it, either, and that led to speculation.
As soon as Ingrid confronted Marco about it, even as a snide comment about how our romantic summer in Madrid had been, it would be over. It would only be a matter of time before she connected the dots and I knew she was plenty of things, with stupid not being one of them. With me being chosen over Savannah, all it would take was a wild guess. I could even hear her voice in my head,
I cannot believe you've been fucking a professor, Penny,
so condescending, so judgmental, because she was so much better than me.
"Okay," I said, arms firmly crossed in front of my chest. "I'll be there."
"Good," Ingrid replied, dryly, like I had just punched her in the face.
Savannah exited the bathroom first, filled with new found joy and a pep in her step, while Ingrid lingered behind. She pretended to be searching for something inside her Prada bagâbaby-pink, a clear contrast from her old dark, leather days from freshman yearâand I pretended to not know her well enough to be sure she wanted to say something.
My first instinct was to poke the bear, find out what she wanted so bad to tell me and stab me in the heart with, but I knew I wouldn't survive to tell the tale. Everyone knew just how sharp Ingrid's claws were and the lengths she would go through just to prove a point, and then they'd call me crazy. Crazy for ever deciding to go against Ingrid Vogel, crazy for ever thinking I'd win, crazy for ever saying she was wrong.
Dealing with her felt like navigating a maze, except there was no exit. Just a murderous minotaur at the end.
"We have to talk," she eventually told me, swinging her bag's strap over her shoulder. I couldn't get any words out and I knew she wasn't expecting a response, so all I could do was watch her leave, her stilettos clicking against the floor tiles.
The door slammed. I swallowed the lump of petrol in my throat, then went after my best friend.
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I spent the rest of the day in agony.
I couldn't even talk to Chase and let him know Ingrid could possibly be suspicious because Savannah would see me panic as I typed rushed texts and then she'd, too, want to know what was going on. She was everywhere I was whenever we were in a lecture; since we took all the same classes and she'd ditched her old friends from early freshman year, there was no easy way to not be around her. I knew she could sense there was something off about me, but she never said a word, probably still worried about who to choose as an advisor.
For a moment, I considered the possibility of suggesting Chase to get a burner phone. Both of us would get one, keeping it hidden at all times, and we wouldn't run the risk of having anyone snoop around our personal phones and find our conversations, the ones we forgot to delete. However, that would be an unnecessary hassle, another thing to keep track of, and I knew I was bound to fuck things up. I just needed to make sure my private life didn't fall into the wrong hands, not even Ingrid's or Savannah's, and I knew the arms I wanted to catch me as soon as I tumbled.
It was only then that I realized Marco was in the same lecture hall.
It was just a stupid Hitchcock course I'd only signed up for because my father had mentioned it a few times during dinners with Stephen Delaroux, something I didn't care much about. I didn't care much about courses Chase didn't teach, which had culminated in me navigating all four years of my degree like an extra in my own life, depending on Chase to help me study for the hardest courses. Therefore, Marco could have been present in several of my lectures, and I hadn't noticed his presence until now.
He sat three rows away from me, on the line of seats directly in front of mine. Savannah and I always sat at the back, just in case any of us felt like taking a nap during a mostly useless course. While she was slowly drifting off to sleep, I'd jolted awake as soon as he entered my peripheral view, my heart threatening to splurge out of my mouth.
I exhaled through my nose, trying to keep the bile from scorching its way up my throat, and knew I could not make any sudden moves to disturb Savannah. The lecture hall was dark, immersing the class in a screening of Vertigo, and I'd learned to be sneaky a long time ago, easily sliding back into the shadows. There could be a reasonable explanation behind his presence here; Ingrid took pre-med courses and he was in one of them, but the Hitchcock course had always been known for following a psychoanalytical outlook. Pulling up his Instagram account, I realized, relief washing over me like a tidal wave, that he was a Psychology major with a penchant for old movies and pretentious things in general.
As if he'd felt my eyes glued to the back of his head, he turned around ever so slightly, enough for me to get a good look at his face, then smiled. It was a small, gentle smile, not a smirk, and he turned back to face the projector screen before I could even return the gesture. I didn't believe in coincidences, not anymore, and my heartbeat rapid-fired. Ingrid had plenty of people wrapped around her finger, effortlessly, and I'd never know the full extent of it all.
My skin was boiling, warming up the room to an unbearable extent, and I shrugged off my jacket. Next to me, Savannah was now fast asleep, cheek resting peacefully against her shoulder, and our professor, a small middle-aged woman, remained oblivious to the whole thingâexactly how I wanted everyone else to be.
Though it was risky, I had to do something. I had to say something.
I held my breath as I typed on my phone, glad I had autocorrect activated, as I had to keep staring at the screen in case I got called to answer a question. I needed to tell Chase I couldn't make it to his apartment tonight, but worrying him with something I wasn't certain about felt like too much. The only problem was the lingering feeling in the back of my brain, the one that said we couldn't be careful enough.
He was quick to reply.
SYLVIA, 10:54 AM: Can't you skip it?
I sighed, chest aching with guilt.
ME, 10:55 AM: No. I'm so sorry
His first message disappeared, a clear reminder I should do the same thing, now that he'd read mine.
SYLVIA, 10:55 AM: I really don't know when we'll have another opportunity like this. There's only so much sneaking out I can get away with and, one day, the excuses will stop sticking.
I could almost hear him sighing in frustration. I was well aware I was wasting a perfectly good opportunity to spend time with him and was wasting his precious time, time he could use to grade papers, prepare lectures, hang out with his friends, do things that made him happy.
ME, 10:56 AM: I'm so, so, so sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you. SD next week?
I crossed the fingers of my free hand, sincerely hoping the tears burning the corners of my eyes stayed inside my tear ducts. The anticipation was killing me and every millisecond I spent staring at the dancing three dots on my screen brought me closer to exploding. He stopped typing, continued, then came to a halt again multiple times, as though he was carefully pondering his words or going back and forth between messages.
SYLVIA, 10:58 AM: Fine. Talk to your parents.
Relief. Short-lived relief, but still relief. Talking to my parents wasn't even the worst part of it all.
Ingrid was.
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Later that day, I felt like a stranger in my own apartment. This wasn't my home, my furniture, my room; Chase's apartment felt like home to me, even though I wasn't spending as much time there as I hoped, and being here reminded me of why I avoided it. With Ingrid obsessively micromanaging every aspect of her life and ours, it was suffocating to be in such a small space.
Savannah got drunk before I could even process how the night would be like. She was slumped on one of the couches, nursing a bottle of white wine, and I briefly pondered hanging out next to her just to have an excuse to avoid Ingrid. Granted, I couldn't run away from her forever, but I could delay the inevitable, at least until I could come up with a reasonable explanation.
My peace and quiet didn't last for long, anyway.
At some point during the night, when I was no longer able to walk in a straight line and Savannah was feeling a lot better, she asked me for a glass of water. The only problem was that Ingrid was in the kitchen as well.
"I don't think I can get up," I blabbered. I wasn't that lightheaded and I was pretty certain I could get her some water before she dehydrated, but still. "Can't you go?"
"Nope!" she answered, popping the P, then downed the rest of her wine. I grimaced, then struggled to pull myself up from the couch. The floorboards creaked under my feet, a countdown to my incoming demise.
Ingrid was still there, leaning against one of the kitchen islands, standing in silence. I didn't bother explaining why I was there and she didn't ask, either, but I knew I wasn't out of the woods just because she wasn't speaking to me. She'd had a lot less to drink than Savannah and I had, and her brain was still tuned right, her mind wasn't blurred by the alcohol.
"I know you're not seeing Marco," she said, twirling her glass of wine.
"I'm not," I replied, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible, with my hand shaking as I grabbed a glass from the cabinet. Even though I couldn't be fully honest with herâI could neverâthere were some white lies that my superego considered to be acceptable. "I never said I was. You assumed I was."
"Guess I did." She took a long gulp of her wine, then looked at me. "Why didn't you say so? You knew both Savannah and I thought you were seeing him, and you never bothered correcting us."
I sighed. "You've been pestering me since freshman year because I don't date, so I thought that was a good way of getting you off my back." She slowly nodded, leaning her cheek against the glass. "I'm still not seeing anyone, by the way, and I'm not interested in any of that relationship business. I'm here to get my degree, then get out. That's why I went to Madrid by myself."
"I see."
"I'm getting a feeling that you don't believe me."
I was calm. At least, I wanted to believe I was, but I knew she'd pick up on any clues that I wasn't.
"Penny, I believe you," she said, sounding genuine enough, but I couldn't not be suspicious. Though I loved her dearly, there were still parts of her personality that irritated me and, even worse, some that utterly terrified me. "I just wish you had been honest with me from the get-go, you know? If you'd told me to back off, I would have."
She wouldn't have. That was the problem. She never knew how and when to let things go, and that was why she was so dangerous.
"No one in here is interesting enough," I simply pointed out. That was true, in part; I really wasn't interested in any other students. They all felt so boring in comparison to Chase, which was something Ingrid would never, ever understand. She'd try anything to ruin the one good thing in my life just to prove a point. "As soon as I meet someone, you'll know."
"You've always been too good for this place, anyway." She threw out the rest of her drink, letting it spill down the sink, then left me alone in the kitchen.
I tried my hardest to resist the urge to smash her glass into a million little pieces.
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on other news, if anyone else describes this book as a "professor x student romance" i swear to god i will combust