Chapter 76

I reared backwards in my chair at Asher’s words. He couldn’t be serious?

How many other boyfriends do you have?

Immediately his hands came up, palms forward in a defensive position. Yet his face remained blank. And a blizzard raged in his eyes.

“I’m not judging you, I swear,” he said, voice tight. “I just need to know how many other guys are in the picture, so I can properly protect you.”

I didn’t know whether to believe him. He certainly sounded like he was judging someone, if not me. I bet if I gave him a list of names right now, he’d be out the door in an instant to throttle the lot of them.

He looked like he wanted to punch something, his whole body tense as a coiled up spring. I hadn’t noticed before. And now his hands fell to grip both sides of the table like he might take flight without it.

“Asher,” I said, scolding. “Elena is lying.”

He relaxed – marginally. Not enough.

He didn’t fully believe me.

That hurt worse than his initial assumption.

“I don’t know what Elena’s problem is, but she’s always making up these rumors about me.”

He nodded, curt.

His silence stabbed into me. Where was his apology? Did he actually think me capable of something like this? That I’d been, what? Keeping a bunch of other guys a secret from him all this time?

Tears welled in my eyes but I blinked them back. I refused to cry over something so ridiculous.

“Okay, fine.” I crossed my arms. “Tell me exactly when I would have had time, between you and Joseph and school and practice, to have other boyfriends. You think I just store them all under my bed? Bring them out on lonely days?”

Slowly his posture loosened. His grip fell from the table. The stormy sea in his eyes calmed.

“You think I’d keep a secret like that from you?” I asked.

He gaze stabbed me. “You are keeping secrets from me, Cynthia. About Brent. Maybe that made it easier to believe that you’d hide other things from me as well.”

“That’s not fair.”

He pressed his lips hard together. He glanced away. “Sorry.” Then he shrugged. “It’s not like it’s a big deal though. I wouldn’t care if you had other guys, or how many. I would just want to know about it.”

Each word was a lash against my heart. He didn’t care if I dated other guys? He didn’t care how many?

Hurt after hurt piled so high I drowned under it.

Even if it was true, he didn’t have to say these things to me. He had to know that I liked him romantically, even if he didn’t reciprocate. To rub it in, how unaffected he would be…

A tear slipped down my cheek. I scrubbed it away but not before he could see.

His posture straightened. For a moment, he seemed genuinely surprised. “Cynthia?”

He leaned forward, reaching out for my hand. I pulled it away, placing both hands in my lap, far out of his reach.

“I thought…” he started, paused. “Doesn’t it please you to know I would never judge you?”

“No,” I said, frowning at my plate. At the remnants of my breakfast, dabs of syrup and a blotch of butter where it had slid off a warm pancake.

“You want to be judged?”

“I want you to care!” I snapped, too loud in the café. A few heads turned toward out table. I dropped my chin to my chest, using my long hair as a shield to hide my face.

We were quiet for a while after that, until the conversations around us picked up again and everyone seemed to forget about us.

“Cynthia,” Asher started.

“Just forget it,” I said quickly. I was embarrassed, both by my outburst and by how much more I seemed to care about Asher than he did about me.

He would protect me physically but he was still so ignorant about my feelings.

The waiter came and we paid. At the doorway, I said goodbye.

“I have a lot of studying to do yet,” I lied. I was as prepared as I’d ever be.

“Cynthia,” he tried again, but I was already turned to leave.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” I said. “At the challenge.”

He slumped a bit, frowning. Still, he nodded.

Then I left him standing there.

On Monday morning, I sat at my usual desk in the history class, ready to take the midterm. I glanced at the empty seat in the back of the room. With only two minutes until the exam started, Aimee still hadn’t showed.

The professor counted through the stack of waiting exams on his desk. With a look at that empty seat, he began to remove one exam from the pile.

I watched the clock hanging on the wall, dreading each forward tick of the second hand.

“Sorry I’m late!” Aimee said, rushing through the door with not ten seconds to spare.

She was winded, likely from running. But she was smiling. Her cheeks were bright and flush, and happiness sparkled in her eyes. She’d pulled her hair up into a bun, decorated with glittery barrettes.

I barely recognized her. I might not have, if I hadn’t spent so much time on her social media accounts. She looked so much like the girl she’d been before… Not the sad, lonely one she’d been lately.

“It’s great to have you back, Aimee,” the history professor said, offering her a relieved smile. “Have a seat. We can get started now.”

“Of course. Sorry again!” Aimee bounced to the back of the room. When she caught my eye, she waved at me.

Awkwardly, I waved back. She must have recognized me from the other day. Or maybe from before, when I had first given her the history homework she’d missed.

That felt like a lifetime ago now.

The professor passed out the exams.

I was so relieved by Aimee’s presence that I had trouble concentrating. I couldn’t believe my plan had actually come together!

Aimee was here!

After I turned in my exam, I was surprised to find Aimee waiting for me out in the hallway. She’d finished her own midterm well earlier than me.

“Cynthia, right?” she asked, pulling me to the side of the hall, where we would be generally unnoticed by the passersby.

“It’s good to see you, Aimee,” I said. “I’m glad you came back.”

“Me, too,” she laughed, a sweet sound. When it settled, she said, “I know I have you to thank.”

“Me?”

“You don’t have to pretend,” she said kindly. “I know it was you. The alter-ego you used isn’t on the registrar. And when we first met, you were so different. You actually cared, you know? I hadn’t met anyone who cared in such a long time.”

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t process all she was saying.

“I wasn’t sure until I saw you in the crowd during Brent’s apology. I saw you and you waved. Who else could my friend be? My savior? You probably don’t think you did anything, but you helped me. I would have fallen apart if you hadn’t been there.”

I swallowed hard. If Aimee knew the truth, that I was the person behind my fake social media account, then she would also be able to connect me to things I had anonymously told her about myself.

Like that I was pregnant.