29 - exs and ohs

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"Oh, God," I muttered

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"Oh, God," I muttered. I felt sick.

Kara straightened with shock. "What?"

I blinked, remembering, of course, that she was there. "Just ... that's horrible." I clasped my hands on the table. "You said he knocked her up?"

I didn't know much about Kara, but I did know that she loved to talk. As long as I kept feeding her with questions, she would basically distract herself. Actually, I found that trait sort of ... endearing.

That was my strategy as we walked back to campus together before we parted at a fork in the path: let her talk. I hugged her and vowed to spend the night tucked in with blankets, ramen, and Bridget Jones before I watched her disappear around the corner.

It wasn't until I entered the auditorium that I allowed what she'd told me to resettle in my mind. Some of my initial shock had worn off, and I could see a little more clearly than before.

Sure, Ruby and Pearl hadn't been gossiping about James. It wasn't James who they said had a reputation for ghosting girls and breaking hearts. Which meant that one of the reasons why I'd grown wary of him was unfounded, that the foundations of my distrust were molded in a misunderstanding.

But that didn't undermine everything else.

It didn't undermine the fact that James slept with Joanna. That he let her into his room on the same night that he confessed his feelings for me. On the same night that I confessed mine for him.

One out of three red flags had turned out to be a herring, but that didn't change anything. The result was still the same.

James still hurt me after he promised that he wouldn't.

On Friday, I found a new spot in the library

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On Friday, I found a new spot in the library.

It was still on the Arts floor, still somewhere that reeked of mahogany and every teenage girl's Oscar Wilde fantasy. It was dark and moody, the epitome of me. It was beyond perfect, and I wondered why I'd never sought it out before.

I'd only been there for ten minutes or so when my illusion of solace was shattered by incoming footsteps. I glanced up—more so instinctually than for any other reason—my eyes instantly crashing into a familiar gaze.

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