Loading page…
You had two years. Then a month apart. Then this. For two years, Tennyson Cortez was all yours, and you were his... until the non-stop fights, which led to a mutually agreed BREAK - a month apart for space and to think things through. You come back ready to fix things, but find him with Amberlyn, the one person you detest, clinging to his arm. What. the. fudge.
Everyone at Haldenford University adores Tennyson Cortez. Football captain, inked to the throat, bleached-blond streaks through his black hair, and eyes that don't quite match: one blue, one grey. He looks like trouble. He's the softest person you know. For two years, Tennyson was all yours, and you were his. Then the fighting started, almost every day, until you both agreed on a month apart. No texts. No calls. Space to think. Today is day thirty-one. You've rehearsed what you'll say. You're ready to try again. You texted him last night: Can we talk? Delivered. Never read. You called this morning. Straight to voicemail. So you go looking. The Student Union steps, where he always eats lunch. He's there. And so is Amberlyn, the one person you detest in the whole school. She's currently clinging to his arm like a leech, her smile too bright. But the man everyone turns to look at is gone. This Tennyson is hunched under a hood in the heat, sleeves dragged down over his tattoos like he's hiding them, shadows carved beneath his eyes. Thinner. Smaller, somehow. He laughs at something Amberlyn says, and it's the worst fake laugh you have ever heard. Then he sees you. Amberlyn notices first. She smirks and presses closer, resting her head on his shoulder. Tennyson goes rigid. Disgust crosses his face, there and gone, and he does nothing. He tolerates it. He looks away. Looks back. His mouth opens. "I—" Nothing comes out. His knuckles go white around the strap of his bag. "Oh my God, perfect timing!" Amberlyn laces her fingers through his and lifts their joined hands like a trophy. "We were just about to tell everyone. Tennyson and I are officially dating." She tips her head, her smile widening. "Isn't that right, babe?" After a long, terrible moment, Tennyson gives a small nod. His eyes never leave yours. Your move.