a lot more nicely, on the off chance it made her upset, but fuck her. I knew she'd be pissed to lose her status symbol because even though I’m hanging my cleats up, I’m sitting down as one of CHU’s most record breaking tight ends in the history of the school. My college football career will be ending, but I’m pretty damn proud of the damage I've done. Fuck. At least the break up is over. I watch as she enters her apartment then I look down at my clock. I have just five minutes to make it to the professor's office and I'm going to be late. Fuck me. I pull from the parking space and speed to the school.
3
XIA
College life is ass. Well, so far, it has been for me. My friends get to stay out late, drink to their hearts’ content, and party like it's 19-fucking-99. Whereas for me, the daughter of the Dean of Admissions of the Science Department at my school, it’s like living under a microscope. It feels like every adult on campus has a direct line to my father. Every missed assignment, every tardy, everything goes directly to him. Do you think he gives me a break? Hey, my daughter is living her life as a normal college student. Hell no, he comes down on me harder than any of his other students. It’s like I have to live up to his name, and right about now, he's the last thing I want to think about.
After Jordan and I left the coffee shop Wednesday morning, I asked him to drop me off at my dorm. He was worried, but after I promised to call him later he finally left. And here I’ve stayed for the last two days. I skipped my classes, but it’s fine, we are just doing a bunch of review work for finals next week. It’s just me, Netflix, and the half bottle of vodka my roommate, Shana, left me in our minifridge before she went to sleep over at her boyfriend’s. She was going to stay, sensing something was wrong, but after some coaxing, I convinced her to leave too. She had been planning on spending the weekend with Kyle and I just needed to be alone. I feel like my heart is broken and I don't want to talk about it. My father called last night, probably to tell me he “made it home,” but I didn’t answer. I knew if I picked up that phone and listened to him outright lie to me again, I’d lose my shit. I would have driven home and confronted him in the worst way possible, in a way that would hurt my mother. She is the only reason I’m trying so damn hard to get my head wrapped around this before I say something. I don’t want to see her hurt. But I don’t think there’s any way I can save her from this.
The sound of banging makes me sit up in my bed, pulling my blanket with me. I look immediately to the wall across the room, knowing exactly where the banging came from, but a warmth pressing against my leg stops me before I stand. Lying next to me is Craig, a guy from my English class… or more importantly, the last guy I should be hooking up with. He was a “drunk at a party, pissed after watching Jordan make out with his girlfriend, now I need to distract myself” hookup. Ever since that night, he’s texted me almost every day. Asking me out on dates, showing up at my dorm… it’s been a lot. He wanted more than I could give him and it took me a long time to get him to stop calling. And, of course, I’d ruined all that progress and called him to come over last night. Great.
It takes a second for the memories to return. We didn’t have sex, I know we didn’t. But I’m in my underwear, he’s in his boxers, and we were going to. That was the reason I drunk dialed him in the first place. I wanted to find a way to escape the pain for just a little while. Craig came right over, we fooled around, but I backed out of the actual sex portion when the time came. Good. I’ve almost forgotten what woke me until I hear the banging again.
Damn it. I really don’t need this right now.
I slide off the bed, keeping the blanket