Chapter 2
Ethan
I make it to the men's bathroom before I have to brace myself against the sink.
Seeing her again was supposed to be different. I had a plan. Practiced what I'd say, how I'd act, the exact expression of casual indifference I'd wear.
Instead, I reverted to being a complete asshole within five minutes.
The girl who couldn't take a hint.
I want to punch myself for saying that. For using the exact words that destroyed her three years ago. For watching her flinch like I'd physically struck her.
But what else was I supposed to do? Stand there and confess that I've thought about her every single day since that night?
That I transferred to Thornhill specifically because I found out she was here?
Seeing her, confident, beautiful, surrounded by friends made me realize she's done exactly what I hoped she would, move on?
The bathroom door opens. A guy walks in, does a double-take at me gripping the sink.
"You good, man?"
"Fine." I straighten, splash water on my face. "Just adjusting to the new school."
He nods and heads to the urinals, and I make my escape before he can ask more questions.
Outside Sterling Hall, the campus is alive with activity. Students everywhere, laughing, talking, existing in their comfortable social circles. I've been here three hours and I already feel like an outsider.
Berkeley was easy. I knew the system, played the game, excelled without really trying. Transferred here on a whim, no, not a whim. A calculated decision made after six months of research and one too many late nights thinking about Ivy Chen.
My phone buzzes. My mother.
Mom: Did you settle in? Met with your assigned mentor?
I stare at the text. She knows exactly who my assigned mentor is.
Did her research, found out Ivy was here, and decided this would be good for me, even though she wants me to stay away from Ivy, she made sure I came to the same university she was at, to punish me.
For what, who knows with that woman anymore.
My mother doesn't do anything without an agenda.
Me: Yes. Everything's fine.
Mom: And Miss Chen? She was pleasant?
She knows Ivy wasn't pleasant. Knows exactly what I did three years ago because she orchestrated it.
Me: She was professional.
Mom: Good. Remember why you're there. Education. Networking. Not getting distracted by the past.
I don't respond. Just pocket my phone and head toward my dorm.
The truth is, I don't know why I'm here. Or I do, but I can't admit it. Can't face the fact that I upended my entire life because I couldn't stop thinking about a girl I destroyed.
A girl who looked at me today with pure hatred.
I deserve that hatred. I earned it. Cultivated it, even, with every cruel word I said to protect her from my family's threats.
But seeing it directed at me, seeing her eyes go cold and dismissive hurts worse than I expected.
My roommate is already moved in when I arrive. Marcus something, business major, seems friendly enough. He's unpacking boxes while listening to music.
"Hey! You must be Ethan." He offers a hand. "Marcus Rivera. Looks like we're stuck together this year."
"Looks like it." I shake his hand. "Already moved in?"
"Yeah, got here yesterday. Wanted to beat the rush." He gestures to the empty side of the room. "That's all you. Let me know if you need help with anything."
"Thanks."
I start unpacking my bags, I traveled light, most of my stuff is getting shipped separately. Marcus makes small talk about classes, campus life, the best places to eat. He's easy to be around, undemanding.
"So what made you transfer from Berkeley?" he asks eventually. "That's a hell of a school to leave."
"Family reasons. My parents wanted me closer to the East Coast. Business connections."
It's not entirely a lie. My father has been pushing for Thornhill connections for years. It just has nothing to do with why I'm actually here.
"Makes sense. Thornhill's got a serious business program. You'll like it." Marcus pauses. "Oh, and fair warning, Greek life is huge here. If you're into that, rush starts next week."
"Not really my thing."
"Mine either. But there are other ways to meet people. Clubs, sports, parties." He grins. "Lots of parties. Are you seeing anyone?"
"No."
"Then you're in luck. Thornhill's full of attractive people with questionable judgment. You'll fit right in."
I manage a laugh, but my mind is elsewhere. On Ivy. On the way she looked at me. On the years between then and now that I can't get back.
My phone buzzes again. This time it's a text from an unknown number.
Unknown: Hey! Heard you're the new transfer. Welcome to Thornhill. Party at Alpha Sig tonight if you want to meet people. - Dylan
Dylan must be one of the orientation leaders from earlier. The friendly one who kept trying to engage me in conversation while I was focused entirely on Ivy.
Me: Thanks. Might stop by.
I won't. I'm not here to party or make friends. I'm here to—
To what? Fix things with Ivy? She made it clear today that's impossible. She hates me. Has every right to hate me and I'm too much of a coward to tell her the truth about why I did what I did.
So what's my plan? Torture myself by being near her? Watch her thrive without me? Prove to myself that I made the right choice by sacrificing our friendship for her safety?
"You look like you're having an existential crisis," Marcus observes. "Want to grab dinner? I know a good place off campus."
"Sure. Yeah. That sounds good."
We head out, and Marcus fills the silence with easy conversation. He's a good guy. The type who makes friends effortlessly, sees the best in people. Everything I'm not.
Over burgers at a local dive, he asks about my major, my plans, what I want to do after graduation. Standard questions. I give standard answers.
"What about you?" I ask. "What's your story?"
"Not much of one. Family legacy, big dreams, working my ass off to make something of myself." He takes a drink. "Oh, and I'm on the business fraternity board. Not a real frat, just the professional one. We do networking stuff, case competitions. You should check it out."
"Maybe."
"There's this girl on the board, Ivy Chen. Total powerhouse. Smart as hell, doesn't take shit from anyone. You'd like her."
I nearly choke on my burger.
"Ivy Chen?"
"Yeah, you know her?"
"We're from the same hometown."
"No shit? Small world." Marcus grins. "Then you know she's incredible. Half the guys on campus have tried to date her. She shuts them all down. Rumor is she's got walls so high you'd need climbing gear."
"Is that right?"
"Yeah. But she's cool once you get to know her. Loyal to her friends, helps underclassmen, actually cares about the work we do. She's doing some capstone project this semester, something about socioeconomic barriers in entrepreneurship. It's impressive as hell."
Of course she is. Of course she's thriving, achieving, becoming exactly the person I always knew she could be and I have no right to be proud of her. No right to feel anything except the guilt that's been eating me alive for three years.
"You okay?" Marcus asks. "You got weird when I brought up Ivy."
"Fine. Just thinking about a paper I need to write."
"Yeah, I feel that. The first week back always hits differently." He stands. "Come on. Let me show you the library before it closes. You'll basically live there by October."
We walk back to campus, Marcus pointing out various buildings and shortcuts. When we pass Sterling Hall, I see a group of students on the steps.
Ivy's there.
She's laughing at something one of her friends said, her whole face transforms when she laughs. Open, genuine, beautiful.
She never laughed like that with me. Not even before.
"That's Ivy," Marcus says unnecessarily. "Want to say hi?"
"No. I already saw her today."
"Fair enough."
We keep walking, but I look back once. Ivy's still laughing, completely absorbed in her conversation.
She doesn't see me.
For a moment, I let myself imagine an alternate universe. One where I didn't make the choice I made. Where I told my parents to fuck off with their threats. Where Ivy and I are standing on those steps together, her laughing at something I said, her hand in mine.
But that universe doesn't exist.
In this one, I'm the villain. The asshole who broke her heart and her trust and any chance we had at a future and seeing her today makes me realize something I've been avoiding for three years.
I'm still in love with her.
I've always been in love with her.
And she will never, ever forgive me for what I did.
So the question is, what am I doing here? What's my endgame?
I don't have an answer.
All I know is that I can't stay away from her. Even if being near her means she hates me. Even if watching her move on destroys me a little more each day.
I'm not here to win her back. That ship sailed three years ago and sank in flames.
I'm here because being near her, even as her enemy, is better than the alternative.
Which is not being near her at all.
It's pathetic. Masochistic. Probably unhealthy.
But it's the truth.
And truth is something I should have told her a long time ago.
Back in my dorm, Marcus heads out to meet friends. I stay in, unpacking the rest of my stuff. At the bottom of my bag, I find it.
A shoebox. Inside, every letter I wrote to Ivy over the past three years. Dozens of them. Explaining. Apologizing. Confessing.
Never sent.
I pull one out at random. The handwriting is barely legible, I wrote this one drunk, sophomore year, after seeing her Instagram post about making Dean's List.
Ivy,
I saw your post. You made Dean's List. I'm proud of you. Not that my pride means anything. Not that I have any right to feel anything about your achievements.
But I do. I'm proud. And I'm sorry. I'm always sorry.
You asked me once if I believed in soulmates. I said no because I was sixteen and stupid and terrified of how much I felt for you. But I've had three years to think about it.
I do believe in soulmates. And mine hates me.
That feels right. Like cosmic justice.
I hope you're happy at Thornhill. I hope you've found people who deserve you. I hope you never think about me.
-E
I fold the letter carefully and put it back in the box.
These letters are my penance. My confession. My punishment for being too much of a coward to tell her the truth when it mattered.
Tomorrow I'll see her again. In Business Strategy, I checked the roster. We're in the same section. She's going to hate that. Probably try to get me removed from the class.
Good. Let her fight me. Let her rage at me. Let her feel anything except the indifference she's trying to project.
Because indifference is worse than hatred.
Indifference means I don't matter and pathetic as it is, I need to matter to her. Even if it's as the villain in her story.
Even if it means she'll never know I'm the villain who's been in love with her since we were twelve years old.
My phone buzzes. Another text from my mother.
Mom: Your father and I expect weekly updates on your school progress. Don't make us regret this transfer.
I stare at the message. The implied threat. The control that's been suffocating me my entire life.
The same control that made me choose between them and Ivy three years ago.
I chose wrong.
I know I chose wrong, but I can't undo it. Can't go back. Can't fix what I broke.
All I can do is exist in her orbit and hope that someday, maybe not this year, maybe not ever, she'll let me explain.
Let me apologize.
Let me show her that the person who hurt her is drowning in regret.
But tomorrow morning, in Business Strategy, when she sees me walk into that classroom, I'll be the asshole who smirks at her discomfort. Who takes the seat right behind her. Who makes sure she knows I'm not going anywhere.
Because that's the role I've cast myself in and I play it so well that sometimes even I forget it's an act.