Page 78 of Ruthless Court
I pick up my phone.
Tristan’s post has already crossed a hundred thousand likes. Sports accounts are reposting it. Fan edits will follow. By tonight, strangers will be calling them royalty and talking about forever like they were there for any part of it.
Stella chose him.
Not tonight.
Long before either of them admitted it.
Krista was right about that too.
I lock the screen and toss the phone onto the couch.
The room feels quieter without her.
Not lonely.
Empty.
There’s a difference.
* * *
My academic advisor has three degrees, no patience, and a small wooden sign on her desk that reads:
YOUR EMERGENCY IS NOT MY SCHEDULING STRATEGY.
She taps my degree audit with one painted nail.
“You still need an upper-level seminar.”
“I know.”
“You said that last semester.”
“I was busy.”
“You were playing basketball.”
“Exactly.”
“That does not make the requirement disappear.”
I scroll through the available classes on my laptop.
Most conflict with practice, film, travel, or team lifts. The ones that fit are either full or taught at eight in the morning by professors who believe suffering builds character.
My advisor leans back.
“You could take an easier elective.”
“I don’t need easy.”
“You need three credits.”
“I can want both.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Both?”
