Page 59 of Pink Ink

The girl’s gaze flicks to my screen, and I watch her remember, in real time, why she never interacts with me. Her face morphs, lips pull into a scowl, nose turns up in repulsion, and I hear her thoughts without her saying a word: she thinks something is wrong with me.

My chest tightens as I stare blankly at the screen. I almost exit out of the video to work on an essay for another class, but it’s a fleeting moment of weakness.

Screw her, and her predictable, unoriginal films. People glance my way as my fingers tap the keyboard a little too loudly.

Nicole takes her earbuds out and leans over. “You good?”

“Perfect.”

“You sure?”

I hum my confirmation.

You know what? They can go sleep together. It’s none of my business. They’re both adults who can do whatever they want. If they end up together afterward, then good for them. I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for their stupid wedding pictures, and the annoyingly beautiful babies they’d make together.

“What is that?”

Maddox’s voice pulls my attention away from the computer. Half the class gawks at our professor, who’s giving the student a couple of seats down from me the death stare.

The guy—I think his name is Corrin—has his hand suspended in the air, about to put something in his mouth. He glances behind him like he’s checking if he’s the correct recipient of Maddox’s wrath. “Uh… cashews?”

I mentally confirm with myself that I did bring my EpiPen. It’s fine as long as I don’t eat them. It’d be painfully embarrassing if I went into anaphylactic shock in the middle of class.

“Get out.”

My eyes widen. The entire classroom goes quiet, and everyone stares at Maddox like he’s grown two heads.

“What?” Corrin stutters, looking around the room, silently begging someone to come to his rescue.

“This is a nut-free class.”

“Since when?”

Yes. Since when, Maddox?

The guy next to me was cracking open pistachios last week, and no one batted an eye. In fact, I don’t think there’s a single class at this university with a nut-free rule.

Slowly, Shaw sets his pencil down. “Are you questioning me?”

“Uh… Yes—I mean no.No. I, um—”

“Out.”His tone leaves no room for negotiation. Corrin scrambles for his things as everyone collectively shares the same idea of avoiding eye contact with him and Maddox. When the door snicks shut behind Corrin, the tension in the room is palpable in the stoic silence.

Shaw’s eyes clash with mine for one long second before he returns his attention to his sketchpad. It’s unlike the fury I’m used to, or the jealousy I was confused enough to think I saw yesterday.

No, this time my head spins and my brain goes through a series of mental aerobics to justify the possession flickering in the depths of his poison-ivy irises.

The implication hits me right in the stomach.

He did this for me.

I don’t care how wrong my assumption probably is, or how delusional I am to let a thought like that cross my mind—butterflies are soaring through my stomach.

Red tinges my cheeks as I force myself to focus on the computer screen. I’m not special enough for anyone to make a blanket rule in my favor. Nor am I important enough to have someone kicked out of class for it. This isn’t me wallowing in self-pity; it’s a hard fact. I’m a stone’s throw away from decent, and I’m far from perfect.

I’ll let myself have this moment; then I’ll go back home and scream into my pillow for having my head so far up in the clouds for thinking a person like Maddox Shaw could give a damn.

Just the thought of needing to be in a room alone with him after this has my fingers trembling on the computer mouse. As far as I’m aware, he’s never offered to see any other students after class.