32 | Regret

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My first instinct is to deny it. But what can I possibly say?

I lean my weight against the cool, sturdy wooden desk and shut my eyes.

The group of students crowding around the statue and the constant stream of people walking out of the library . . . apparently, not all of them were strangers. I should've been careful, I should've been more aware. But whenever Liam is around, everyone else and everything else just fades into the background. It happens so naturally and automatically that I'm not even conscious of it anymore.

"Well?" Felix is tapping his foot impatiently, the edges of his dark brown shoes scuffed and worn.

"Sorry," I say, shaking my head as I lower myself into the desk chair. I angle it away from him, slowly and discreetly, in a hopeless measure to evade his accusations.

"We were just wishing each other good luck," I say, at last, looking up at Felix. He is still eyeing me skeptically, so I force myself to add, "You know, for the finals."

The words have barely left my mouth when Felix lets out a dry laugh that is utterly devoid of humor. He climbs to his feet in one swift motion, instantly dwarfing me. Something changes behind his eyes, his expression hardening like cement setting solid.

"Nice try," he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest as shame ignites my cheeks. He looks down at the floor, murmuring more to himself than to me, "I didn't have enough control. I should've known not to trust you. I knew something was going on after that night at that stupid restaurant."

"What?" I say, craning my neck to hear him better.

Suddenly, Felix is standing in front of me, his hands gripping the back of the chair on either side of my shoulders. His face is too close for comfort, his breath hot on my skin.

"Your friend might be stupid, but I'm not," he says, his overpowering frame blocking everything else from my vision like a dark screen. My back is pressed painfully against the chair as I try to put as much space between us as possible. "Do you really think I didn't notice? You couldn't keep your fucking eyes off each other."

I feel panic rising in my chest, as though I'm at the bottom of a pool and can't find my way to the surface. Raising my arms, I push against Felix until he takes a few steps back. His words — loud, full of animosity and something else I can't quite name — are swirling angrily inside my head.

A memory of Felix's face looming over mine with The Blacktop's black-and-white photographs in the background resurfaces. Forehead creased in doubt, a frown on his mouth and accusation in his eyes.

Every little thing — my friendship with Vera, the time I wished Jack on his birthday, the incident at The Blacktop — sparked his curiosity, bordering on paranoia. His suspicions were usually baseless, but he never waited or hesitated to voice them before.

Through all the chaos in my brain, I find myself asking, "If you suspected all this while . . . why did you wait until today to confront me?"

Felix remains silent, running the tip of his tongue over his lower lip as he averts his eyes. For one moment, my mind flashes back to the way he had kissed me today. As I recall his tenacity and desperation, a sickening thought lodges itself in my mind and nothing I do will shake it away.

"What's going on, Felix?" I demand, clearing my throat and forcing myself to look at him. "Did you think you could just, what, try your luck with me first? Did you decide to spring this on me just because I stopped you?"

He hesitates for a moment too long before saying, "I don't know what you mean."

"You know exactly what I mean." I knot my fingers together and look up at the ceiling. "Is that all you wanted from the start?"

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