[2022 Wattys Winner] When love cynic Madison Watson starts university, she vows to follow three simple rules.
One: Work out at least twice a week.
Two: Get an internship.
Three: Stay away from men.
But after a chance encounter with th...
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"You'll never believe who was at the rally."
Kara was gallivanting around our room and chirping about her night like a drunk parakeet when I rolled over to find her. My eyelids were heavy, the morning light so obnoxiously bright that I had to squint to see through it. My mind felt like it was being obstructed by thick fog, an irritant compounded by the dull pain that throbbed at the front of my head.
Oh, yeah. Tequila. AKA, Satan.
"That girl from my accounting class. Jarrod's ex. You know the one I told you about?"
I didn't.
I rubbed my head with my hand, wincing as Kara's shrill voice shot through every part of my brain like tiny shards of ice. And then I remembered.
Tequila.
Dancing.
James.
James.
In my room.
On me.
In ... my bed.
My lower stomach curled at the memory of him on top of me, my skin tingling at the thought of his lips trailing down my jaw to my neck. I could feel his hands on my chest, moving lower and lower ...
I frowned.
Because the space beside me was barren, occupied only by my crinkled white sheets.
Two scenarios flashed through my mind. Either I imagined mine and James' entire interaction, or he'd left me after I asked him to stay. As empty as it made me feel, I hoped it was the first. I hoped he didn't leave me.
"Whose is that?" Kara asked, pausing her long-winded monologue to appraise me with a raised eyebrow.
I followed her gaze down to my torso where an oversized denim jacket was covering me like a blanket.
James' denim jacket.
"Well, well, well. Look what happens when I'm away for a night." Kara giggled, popping her hands on her hips proudly. "Maybe I should leave you the room more often."
I barely heard her. All I could think was, It did happen.
I knew it.How could I have fabricated that night? A night of electricity like I'd never, ever felt before in my life.
But my excitement vanished like smoke off an ember, replaced by a familiar aching in my chest.
James left me.
I practically threw myself at him. I said so many things that I shouldn't have, so many things that probably made him cringe inside. And, finally, I did it. I scared him away for good.
Everyone leaves everyone. Everyone hurts everyone. Heartbreak is inevitable. Why did I think that I was the exception to my own hypothesis?
Just as I moved a hand to hide the tears brimming in my eyes, it grazed over something tucked into my bedsheets. It was a piece of stationery paper from my desk—white with black hearts decorating the corners—with a message that had been scrawled rather clumsily in the middle. As though whoever wrote it did so in the dark of night.
