Chapter 25
The water pools at the bottom of my shower, and I stare down to where it gathers at my feet. The soap bubbles pull and swirl as they head toward the drain, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
Because everything in my life feels like it’s drowning. Even these bubbles.
The Google search I did on my phone said that I might be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and that talking with a therapist would be helpful. But how do I talk to someone about a traumatic event that never happened?
I wipe the fog off the glass of the mirror and stare at my reflection. It’s the same one it’s always been.
And yet something feels categorically different. Painful. Broken.
I will never get the faces on the mural right, because I can’t even see my own properly.
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and try to center myself.
On the stairs to the balcony.
One breath.
Max’s shy smile.
Two breaths.
Waking up to see the tree outside my window at Grandee’s.
I don’t breathe again and instead listen to my heart pounding in my ears.
What did I do wrong?
Time keeps shifting because Max Emerson isn’t for me.
He brushes the hair from my face. “You look so beautiful.”
When I get dressed, I find an email from Doc on my phone.
Nieve,
Please see me at your earliest convenience. I have office hours till
two today.
—Doc
The walk from the Founder’s Tower to the administration building isn’t far, but a knot of worry tightens in my gut with each step.
Here they have carpeted hallways and dark green walls emblazoned with the Suttleton logo.
The admin offices are covered in dark cherrywood, which somehow makes the entire thing feel imposing and official. I find the door that has his name on a plaque and knock once before I hear his voice asking me to come in.
“Nieve. Thank you for stopping by.” He’s smiling, relaxed, like always, as he motions for me to take a seat. His office is filled with cluttered bookshelves and a messy desk. None of it surprising.
Baubles and trinkets sit on shelves lined with paperbacks and leather-bound books.
Art supplies are scattered across the desk, along with several empty mugs that once contained tea.
But what’s most surprising is the photographs.
Black and white candids, the kind that you would develop in a high school darkroom, are displayed everywhere.
They’re framed or, more often, in loose, haphazard piles, the negatives strewn about like confetti.
“You take photos.”
Doc gives me a humble shrug and looks a little taken aback before glancing around the space, then one side of his mouth lifts. “Badly, but I love it, so I do it. Just don’t tell the photography department.”
I settle into an old leather wingback chair across from his desk and think about how strange it is that we can be so different in different settings.
Doc sits across from me in an ergonomic chair that feels out of touch with the rest of the office. The window behind him has his face cast in shadow, and the light shines off his golden-brown hair.
He looks down at the desk. “Well, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve asked you to come in.”
In my lap, I twist my hands together nervously.
“I’ve spoken with Max, and I wanted to speak with you as well.”
It must be about the faces. “I’ve been busy with other classes, but I promise I’m not avoiding my project.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
I wait.
“You didn’t want to do the collaborative piece with Max.”
I only nod.
“There were some concerns that were brought up—”
Of course there were.
“Which I think might be an overreaction, but Max didn’t.”
Of course he didn’t.
“Nieve. This is a safe space, so I would like you to answer honestly, without the fear of repercussion.”
I swallow.
“Do you feel comfortable with Max Emerson?”
“What?” I couldn’t have heard him correctly.
“Max is under the impression—”
“Max asked you this?”
Now Doc looks confused. “I’m sorry?”
“Max asked you to make sure I was comfortable?”
Doc clears his throat. “He mentioned that you two have spent time together in a personal capacity, and he didn’t want—”
“Personal?”
Doc’s professional demeanor slips a bit. “He just said that he might have been a little obvious, Nieve. That’s all he said. He’s just trying to make sure that you’re okay.”
“A little obvious.” I repeat it because I’m having a hard time understanding what he’s trying to say.
“Listen, if you don’t like him, that’s fine, but he wants to make sure that—”
“Did he say if he was comfortable working with me?”
“He did.” Doc gives me a sad smile. “No issues. He asked me to check with you—”
“I don’t,” I cut him off. “Have issues, that is.”
Doc sighs. “Then why don’t you want to work with him?”
His hands on my body. His mouth on mine. The moan so deep in his chest I can feel it.
A tightness builds in my throat, and I swallow.
Waking up at Grandee’s alone.
There are consequences for getting close to Max. Consequences I can’t let happen again. What if next time it isn’t just time that’s erased?
“I just don’t want to. I don’t want to go to the festival, and I don’t want—”
“Well, again, there is no festival. There hasn’t been one in fifteen years. And you do have to go to the gala.” Doc gives me a patient look. “It’s mandatory for all students.”
“Gala?”
“The Founders Gala.” He’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind, but I’m trying to figure out when that changed. What decision did I make to get rid of the Alumni Festival?
My blood turns cold. “The gala is mandatory?”
“Yes … it is.”
“Since when?”
“Since the moment you chose not to read your student manual. The mural will be there. It’s a part of your grade. We don’t make exceptions, no matter who your family is.”
“Right.” I’ve come off as entitled.
But a gala just feels like another way time is trying to claim Carter. No matter what I do, something always goes wrong. Somehow, Carter is going to end up dead, and I’ll have ended up in this upside-down version of my life, and none of it will have made a difference.
“You have a lot of potential as an artist, and getting exposure now could be a great experience.”
“Exposure this early could be a great experience for you,” Doc tells me. “But don’t waste it by thinking you don’t have to work hard.”
“I know,” I tell him almost too fast. “I’ll do my best. Give it all to the art.”
“Good. When you’re done with this, take it over to Max. He’s the final vote on the showcase.”
I look over at Max, who is talking with another first-year, and take a deep breath. Max has to say yes. He’s the last person who needs to sign off on this project.
When I set my work on Max’s desk, I stand there nervously. He studies it for a moment before frowning.
“Why is her face turned away?”
“What?”
“The piece would be more impactful if we could see even just the side of her face.”
“Then you should draw it and submit it for the showcase.” I’m being defensive, and he can probably hear it in my tone.
“I don’t know, Nieve.” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t feel ready.”
My heart squeezes, my breath almost leaving me when I think about what this means for my dreams. I’ve worked on this for months, been working toward this for years, and he says he doesn’t know. “You can’t be serious.”
“Nieve.”
“If this is because you don’t like me—”
“This isn’t personal.”
He didn’t deny it. He never does.
“You need to keep working on this.”
I grab my paper off his desk and open my—
“Just think about it, Nieve. Please?” Doc tells me as a final dismissal.
I nod. “Of course.”
Later, Benji finds me waiting in line at the coffee cart outside the admin building. He bounds up to me with a big smile on his face.
“How did I know I’d find you near the coffee?” He loops his arm through mine, and I let him.
I want to make a joke back, but I’m feeling confused and, if I’m honest, a little defeated. How can I possibly get out of the gala now?
“Bad day?” he asks, taking in my expression. “Of course it is. Want one of those gross, frozen things that’s basically a milkshake with coffee in it?”
I’m not sure why this makes me tear up, but I nod, and he pulls his arm out to wrap it around my shoulders.
“I’ll order it. And even let the employees give me dirty looks because they hate making them in the winter.”
“Thanks, friend.”
“The things I do for love,” he says with a sigh before stepping up to the counter.
We take the long way back to the dorms, me sipping my drink and Benji eating a pastry that flakes all over his hands and mouth every time he takes a bite.
“You doing okay, Nieve?”
I take a deep breath. I know what I’m supposed to say here. I know how to pretend at normal. Giving him a smile that is mostly brave, I tell him, “No.”
I’m surprised at my own answer, and I feel my face fall.
“No.” I say it again, like this will somehow change my answer.
“No?” Benji repeats, but he doesn’t look surprised. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” He takes my hand in his and we stop walking.
“I just … It’s just,” I say while I blink away tears. I haven’t said any of this out loud, and it hurts. “Linden feels so far away from me. And Carter is … who knows what the two of them are up to—”
“Probably the same thing you get up to with boys you like.”
“And Max hates me.”
“Max … doesn’t hate you.” Benji laughs when he says it, as if the complete opposite is true. “And interesting that you brought him up after I mentioned boys you like.”
I let out a scoff. “That’s not what’s happening. He wants me to do a joint project with him for the showcase.”
“You think Max spends any amount of time with anyone he doesn’t want to?”
I shake my head like Benji doesn’t understand, because he doesn’t. Max is only around me because he has to be for school.
“You should do an experiment,” he tells me. “Every time you think Max hates you, ask yourself, Why would Max hate me right now?”
“That’s…” I was going to say stupid, but … “An experiment?”
“Like the things science kids do.” Benji looks confused.
Benji … He’s right. I’ve been going about this all wrong. I need to …
I kiss his cheek. “Yes, obviously. You’re brilliant.”
And I leave. I need to make a list.
In my dorm room, I take out my phone and type out every incident where time changed. When my mother was an addict and when she had gone missing, when June was back, and when Max and I kissed …
Index cards. I need index cards. I find some in the back of the desk in my dorm room and proceed to scribble nonsense on each card. If Linden comes back and sees this, she will think I am one red thread away from losing my mind.
And she might be right.
I lay them out in neat piles on the floor, trying to figure out what keeps happening to make time readjust. But the longer I stare, the more the pattern becomes gibberish to me. The only thing I can see is Max’s name repeated over and over. Sprinkled on almost every card.
My phone dings, and when I look at it, there is a series of texts I hadn’t even heard waiting from Linden.
Where are you?
You said you’d come to this stupid planning meeting for valentines day.
You better not be kidnapped.
Unless he’s hot.
Ignore that text. I’ve been reading too much dark romance.
OMG Nieve. Where are you?
Shit.
I’m in the middle of texting back when the door opens to our room. The index cards go scattering, and I groan trying to pick them up.
Linden and Carter stand at the door.
“Here you are,” she says to me, frustration clear on her face.
“Sorry, I’ve just been—” I pick up a card that says Sex with Max and crumple it in my fist. “Doc wanted to see me, and now I’m here.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” It comes out too fast, too high, too breathy.
I watch her process this. “Well, you know this is the Valentine’s Day planning night.”
I do now. “Yeah. I do. I’ll…” My words catch in my mouth as I think of the experiment that Benji suggested. “I can’t make it.”
“Really?” Linden looks disappointed.
“You should come,” Carter says. He puts his hands on Linden’s shoulders as he stands behind her. “You had that great idea last time for Halloween.”
He smiles at me and puts his hand on the small of her waist and … kisses the top of her head.
The world narrows around me until it’s only Carter’s hand. On Linden.
“You’re beautiful,” Carter whispers against my hair as he kisses the top of my head.
Linden looks confused. “Are you okay?”
I’m not. I don’t know how to look at Carter right now. His fingers tightening against the strip of skin at her waist. My eyes move to Carter’s face.
But he’s not looking at me; his gaze is on the floor, and the world slows as he bends forward and picks up a card under his shoe.
MAX ALMOST KISS.
“Uh.” He looks at me as he hands me the card, and I feel my face flush. “Max?”
“Oh my god.” My entire body grows warm with embarrassment, and I just want to get out of here. I want to leave and never come back.
“It’s cool, Nieve. You don’t need to be— Max is great. You two should—”
I hold up my hand for him to stop. Just stop. This world always makes sure I know exactly what I can’t have over and over again.
He gives me an apologetic look. “I think it’s cute.”
Cute. My insanity is cute. The way my heart splits in half when I see Carter show affection to my cousin. The way I feel guilt every time I feel myself blush when I see Max. The way time won’t let me have either. None of that is cute.
I want to scream.
But I don’t. My voice is so quiet it sounds frightening. “Fuck you, Carter.”
Linden seems to realize that this is not going the way it’s supposed to and moves Carter out the door without another word, and I don’t miss the look she gives me. Concern etched onto every surface of her face.
And she should be concerned.
Because time has just made an enemy of me.