The problem with Ivy is that what little I know of her intrigues the hell out of me. When I got off my bike in the front of the building and saw her walking toward me, my heart lurched in my chest. It’s not often that a girl surprises me the way she does.
No, I don’t want to sit apart. I want her beside me for the next hour. Maybe she’ll want to get something to eat afterward.
Without thinking, I grab her hand. “Ivy, this way.”
Her ponytail whips in an arc around her shoulder as she snaps her head in my direction. Panic flares in her widened eyes as she stares at our joined hands.
I quickly let go. I must make her uncomfortable, because she tensed when I touched her arm outside, too. I thought I’d imagined it, but I guess not. I’m used to girls loving my attention, not being intimidated by it. What has made her so fearful of being touched? She even crawled out on a roof to get away from someone.
Shoving my hands into my pockets, I point to the seats with my elbow. “Empty spots. Back here.” When she doesn’t move, I know I need to say something else, but I’m not sure what. She’s got me tongue-tied, something I don’t have much experience with. “Do you…want to sit together?”
Say yes.
She chews on her lower lip for a moment, then her gaze locks on mine with an intensity that takes my breath away. It’s as if she’s searching for something. I won’t deny it. Most girls like what they see. I assume she’s going to give in, so I give her a Jon Priestly smile.
I can almost see a curtain closing in front of her face. “I’m going to sit up front. I can see better up there. Thanks, though.”
Hold on. Did she really just turn me down? Running a hand through my hair, I watch her walk down the aisle, her thick ponytail swinging and bouncing on her back, as if she’s happy to be moving away from me. I try to conceal my disappointment as I slump down into the nearest empty seat.
She was searching for something in me and obviously didn’t find it. I fell short. An old but familiar pang gnaws at my insides. I try to ignore it, but it’s too late.
You’re not good enough, Jon. Why can’t you see that? You’ve never been good enough. You were born a loser and you’ll always be a loser.
I grab a notebook and pen from my backpack and toss them on the table in front of me, not bothering to open up a blank page. The professor welcomes everyone and says some shit about how this class can change the way we look at the world around us.
I don’t give a flying fuck. Crossing my ankle over my knee, I pick at a frayed hole in my jeans.
I had Ivy pegged as a hot mess anyway. I’ve had plenty of those girls in my life without adding another.
chapter seven
Hell is empty and all the devils are here.
Ivy
My fingers curl over the keyboard like claws. I’m trying to keep them from shaking. After taking my last pill, I don’t really have a choice. I have to do this.
I open and close my fists as if I’m doing some preparatory exercises before using the computer. I need to log into my old email account and get the name of the doctor here at PSU that my therapist recommended.
I take a deep breath and pull it up. I can’t believe I even remember the password.
Sure enough, pages and pages of messages from people and businesses I don’t know fill the screen, many of them porn-related. And there are dozens of invites for pages and private online groups with hurtful names.
You’ve been invited to like the page Ivy McAllister is a Psycho Whore.
You’ve been invited to the group Ivy M. Suks Big Cock N Wants To Suk Yours.
@MagicVaj_McAllister is now following you.
I experience a little satisfaction that Aaron needs to take a few basic English classes and learn how to spell—but then that’s me, the secret nerd, for you.
It was easier to abandon this email address and delete my social media accounts than to keep wading through this garbage.
I do a search for Dr. Kramer and find the message I’m looking for. His colleague and former student is named Tess Mehta. He thinks I’ll like her.
I pull up the PSU Student Counseling services website and scroll down to see if they have her listed. They do. Dr. Mehta looks to be about thirty years old, with straight, dark hair, dark-rimmed glasses, and a closed-mouth smile. I can’t tell whether she seems kind and caring or judgmental.
Hands shaking, heart pounding, I dial the office number listed on the website.
“PSU Student Counseling Center. This is Addison. Can I help you?”
Addison? It sounds like the name of a student. Is the receptionist’s position a work-study job? How can I explain to a student that I need to make an appointment with a shrink? What if she asks what the nature of my call is? It’s not like I can say I have a sore throat and need to see the doctor.
In order to make an appointment, I’ll have to state my full name. Probably give her my student number. I don’t want people to know who I am, and that I have “issues.”
And what if we have a class together? This Addison chick will know me, but I won’t know her. What if she’s a grad student and she types up Dr. Mehta’s notes? Don’t tell me that’s highly unlikely—it’s probably not even possible given medical ethics and everything—but my brain keeps going there. Who says fears are rational? Addison could sit in the back of my Comparative Lit class and point me out to her friends. “That’s the girl I was telling you about. She’s a fucking psycho. She thinks she may have killed her boyfriend, but get this—she’s got amnesia and can’t remember if she did or not.”
And then the rumors would start all over again. And the harassment. But this time from someone other than Aaron and his friends.
“Hello?” Addison says. “Are you there?”
I can’t do this.
I stab the End button, toss the phone on the bed, and wipe my clammy hands on my jeans. I’ve got a good thing going here at PSU where no one knows the real me, and I’d like to keep it that way.
chapter eight
I once had a thousand desires, but in my one desire to know you,
all else melted away.
Jon
There’s a big crowd of students at the Hardware Store tonight, so I’m lucky to get a booth. I don’t bother to look around for Kelly, Reese, and James, because they texted me a few minutes ago saying they were just leaving Kelly’s house.
As I slide in, two girls stop abruptly at the head of the table. A dark-haired girl with her hands on her hips gives me an angry scowl. “We saw it first.”
Before I can tell her that I’ve been waiting at the door to see if anyone was going to take it, her friend comes to my rescue. Great, it’s one of the students I’m tutoring.
“Oh my God. Jon.”
“Hey, Sara.”
Her face lights up even more that I remembered her name. “Are you here by yourself?” I start to answer, but she keeps going. “Can we share the table with you?”
Her boldness is borderline rude. “I’ve actually got friends coming. Sorry.”
Her face falls and her friend looks even more pissed off.
I look around. It is one of the big corner booths, though, and the place is packed. Chances are slim that another table will open up soon, especially since the band is getting ready to play. “Is it just the two of you?”