Chapter Twenty-Three
I’m annoyingly distracted.
It’s my first-ever lecture. I should be focused on it.
Instead, I’m thinking about what I agreed to earlier this morning.
I am now Zarmenus’s fake boyfriend. I’m in a relationship, even if it isn’t a real one. I did hope that I would get a boyfriend while I was at Point, but I never even remotely considered it would happen like this.
I got to the lecture hall about ten minutes before the class starts, so I’ve had plenty of time to stew. The more I think about it, the more I think it’s a bad idea. It is sure to end in catastrophe.
Then again, it could be a good thing.
I can’t stay in the room with things the way they were.
And if I move out, that means saying goodbye to the internship Dean Leeke offered me, and possibly making an enemy of her.
Given how important it is to her that I show how humans and demons can cohabitate, if I move out I’ll practically be throwing gasoline on the argument that coexistence is impossible.
I doubt Leeke will love that, and I’ve decided there’s no way she’ll still give me the internship if I switch rooms.
If Zarmenus sticks to his word, which he now has a major incentive to do, this could work.
I could keep Leeke happy and get my internship, and also not have to deal with Zarmenus being, well, Zarmenus.
The risks seem worth it, but it is still a risk, and it’s putting a lot of faith in Zarmenus, something that hasn’t worked out for me thus far.
On my phone I have a message to Ashley drafted where I tell her what happened.
I haven’t sent it yet. I’m not sure what’s stopping me.
My current working theory is that she’s going to try to talk me out of it because it is, quite frankly, a ridiculous plan.
Even so, I’m going to go through with it.
If what I need to do to get the future I want is be fake boyfriends with a demon for a semester, then so be it.
I hit send on the message. She reads it right away, then the phone screen changes to a call, which I cancel.
Sorry, lecture’s about to start, can’t talk!
I DON’T CARE CALL ME RIGHT NOW
Sorry, I’ll call later!
I lock my phone and put it face down on my desk.
I’ll explain everything after, I think as I pull my books out of my bag.
One of them is a thin novel called The Sanctuary, which is one of the texts for this semester.
I have a few weeks to finish it, but I’m already halfway through, and my copy is covered in color-coordinated sticky notes, each one cross referenced to a page in my notebook.
It’s how I studied assigned texts in high school, and I figure it’ll work here as well.
It gives me an idea. I always assess everything I do.
Why is my fake relationship any different?
Plus, I know how my mind works, and when I’m facing a problem I tend to ruminate on it until I’ve figured out what I’m going to do.
I have a few minutes before the lecture starts; I should figure this out right now.
I turn to the first page of my notebook and give it a title: My Relationship.
I write down everything I can think of that could work.
If I’m going to be in a fake relationship with Zarmenus, then we’re going to first need to convince people that we’ve moved from being enemies to something closer than friends.
Enemies to lovers might be great in fiction, but at least in this case I think it’ll be difficult for people to accept that we’re dating if we don’t at least seem friendly.
That should be our first goal, and I write that down.
After that, we’ll need to go on dates, and be seen in public acting like a couple.
I keep brainstorming until the professor walks into the room. A hush sweeps over the crowd. The lecturer is one of the coolest people I’ve ever seen. Her hair is dyed black, tied up in a messy bun, and her arms are covered in tattoos. I hope I’m as cool as her one day.
“Let’s get started,” she says.
As soon as the lecture, which was amazing, ends, I leave the lecture hall. My heart starts racing as I move away from the stream of students to find a quiet hallway. I go down it, then lean against the wall and call Ashley.
“So, what do you think?” I ask.
“Is this a bit? Please tell me you’re doing a bit.”
“No,” I say. “I’m being very serious. Zarmenus and I are boyfriends now.”
“How does something like this even happen?”
I explain everything in order, leading to the moment Zarmenus told his father that we’re dating.
“Walk me through this,” she says. “Because I get why Zarmenus did what he did, but how does this benefit you?”
“I really think he’ll be better this time. And seriously, if I can get that internship, my life will be made. It’s risky, but I’ve weighed up the odds and I think it’s worth it.”
“Huh,” she says. “When you put it that way I can kind of see why you’d say yes.”
“Really?”
“No!”
“It’s my dream internship.”
“But you hate him!”
“I don’t hate him,” I say. “He was just a bad roommate, and he promised to be better.”
“I mean, that internship does sound pretty amazing.”
Even though I was sure in my choice, a rush of relief surges.
“Still,” she says. “This doesn’t seem like you.”
I can hear a note of something like pain in her voice.
And I get it. This isn’t like me, not at all.
The version of me she knows the best would’ve turned Zarmenus down for a multitude of reasons.
I can feel how different I am already, how much being here is changing me. And now it’s smacking me in the face.
“What about your schoolwork?” she asks. “I hate to be, well, devil’s advocate, or I guess the opposite of that. But you always said that you were going to focus on classes more than boys, and now you have a boyfriend in the first week.”
“It’s not real,” I say. “And that’s the thing, an internship like this could be better for me than getting perfect grades. This is for my career.”
“Well, if you’re sure, I support you. Ow.”
“Are you okay?”
On the other end of the phone, I can hear her sucking in air. I look around, unsure what to do. I’m in a different state, miles away. I do know her address, I could call her an ambulance if I needed to. But what’s going on? She’s not supposed to go into labor until near the end of the semester.
“I’m fine,” she says, even though she clearly isn’t. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Are you sure? You sound like something’s hurting you.”
“It’s ligament pain,” she says.
That doesn’t sound fun.
“Have you been to a doctor?”
“Yes,” she says. “He said it’s normal and I should only worry if I’m bleeding. I’m the most metal person you know, and yes, I’m including the prince of Hell.”
“It’s no contest.”
She laughs, which seems to bring on another wave of pain.
“I’m going to go lie down,” she says. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
She hangs up.
I mean, it went about as well as it could.
But any worry about her not approving the whole fake-dating situation is now replaced by fear for her.
She was in pain, and she was trying to downplay it.
The way she talked about it made it seem like this pain has been going on for a while.
It must have, if she’s already seen a doctor.
It might be different now that she’s well into her pregnancy, but Ashley generally avoided going to the doctor the same way straight men do.
No matter what was going on with her, she would never go to the doctor unless it got really bad.
The disconnect between our lives starts cutting me deep.
It’s not supposed to be like this. She’s not supposed to be in pain halfway across the country.
I’m supposed to know everything about what’s going on with her.
I’m supposed to tell her about the Zarmenus situation while enjoying a celebratory lunch after our lecture, where we talk about how cool our teacher is.
I don’t know. Things aren’t the way I want them to be and there’s nothing I can do about it, and that’s its own kind of hell.