Page 71 of Lessons in Love

“I didn’t! I fucked up, and it’s all your fault! I just— “ Angry tears threaten to make their way down my face, but I brush them out of the way. “You knew how much this meant to me.”

“I know. That’s why I wanted to be there. I thought you would want me there too!”

“No.” I shake my head. “You wanted to be there for yourself. I knew from the start that you would only be a distraction.”

“Eden, breathe. What are you talking about?”

There’s something about the way he’s talking to me that makes my blood boil. So patient. So generous. Like I’m a child throwing a tantrum.

“You weren’t there to see me succeed. You were there to see how well your tutoring services worked! That’s what this was always about. Make sure I do well, give you a good recommendation, then off you go!”

“And? So what if I was? So what if I wanted to see if this whole semester was worth it?” A red flush starts creeping up his neck. I’ve hit a nerve, and I’m proud of it.

“I knew it. This was never about me. It was about you! You and your ability as a tutor!”

“Eden, everything is about you! Can’t you see that? I’m here, for you. I wanted to watch the presentation, for you. I— “ He rubs his face, eyes wild. A deep breath escapes his lips as his shoulders slump. “Is that all this was then?”

“What do you mean?”

He deflates before my eyes and nods once, twice. “I guess I just forgot what this was all about.”

“Oliver, what are you talking about?” There’s a dark look across his face as he starts backing away from me. And it scares me.

“You owe me forty bucks from the last tutoring session.”

Just like that he’s gone. And my heart with him.

21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Oliver.

It’s just nice some days, you know? Beating the absolute shit out of something. You don’t have to think, have to worry about anything at all. Just hit. And hit. And hit. Left, right. Left, right. I can feel the sweat dripping down the back of my neck, and it’s a welcome reprieve from the thoughts running around in my head.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Ben’s voice cuts through the rhythmic slapping of my boxing gloves against the bag. I’ve dragged him away from Michelle just for an hour. He stands with his arms crossed; one eyebrow quirked. I pause, taking off a glove to grab my drink bottle.

“No,” I pant. “No. I’m good.”

Ben looks to the bag, then to the broken skin across my knuckles. “You sure?” The look I gave him must have been a good one, because he laughs. Then immediately stops. “Come on, dude. You can tell me what happened.”

“The thing is— “ I pause, wiping my face with a towel after I remove the other glove. My knuckles sting, but I welcome the pain. “I don’t even know what happened. She just freaked out at me.”

“Because of the presentation?”

“Yeah, I think so. I thought she’d be happy to see me.”

“First mistake, bro. Making an assumption when a woman is involved.” Ben slaps me on the back, then takes his hand back, pulling a face. “Jesus, dude. Don’t often see you sweating like this.”

“Yeah, well. You can only blame yourself. You brought me here. You wanted to box with me.”

“To get you away from all that studying. Not to beat the ever-living daylights out of the poor bag. At least it’s not me this time.”

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I start to register the burn in my arms. It’s a welcome one and one I have felt far too infrequently as of late. Packing up my stuff, we head towards the exit. “Okay, I’ll admit I was a bit rough.”

“A bit rough? I’d hate to see you gentle.”