CHAPTER 23
Lila
T he pungent smell of weed hits me like a slap in the face.
“Hey. Come in.”
Oliver opens the door wider, giving me a clear view of his place. He used to live with two of his friends before we moved in together, and it looks like he’s moved back in. But the apartment is deserted now, which is a small blessing.
It also looks exactly like I remember, even one year later—small (which is fine), clothes everywhere (possibly dirty), and a constant weird smell in the air (which is not fine).
“You can sit here,” Oliver offers, making room for me on their couch.
He picks up a discarded T-shirt and throws it onto a nearby beanbag. How did I ever think moving in with such a messy person was a good idea?
I can’t help but think of Reed’s house—clean, tidy, with character. It feels like a home, while this apartment feels like—
Stop thinking about Reed.
Right. I should.
I should probably stop thinking about what happened in his office, too, because it won’t happen again.
Things have been more tense in the past month, although not uncomfortable. He’s clearly redrawing the line between us, but it doesn’t keep me from thinking he sounded a tiny bit jealous when I mentioned I was coming here.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, not wasting time with pleasantries. I don’t sit down because I don’t want to give Oliver the impression that I’ll be staying longer than strictly necessary.
He grabs an energy drink and takes a swig before speaking. He’s not smoking now, but the redness in his eyes, paired with the smell in here, tells me he must have just stopped before I arrived.
“I don’t like how we left things,” he says, taking me by surprise. We broke up almost a year ago. He didn’t think of reaching out before now? “But I was angry with you because of the tire thing. I think it’s understandable.”
“I apologized for that,” I remind him.
I still feel somewhat bad about it, but Reed is right—I shouldn’t be the one begging for his forgiveness or being painted like the bad guy when he was the one who hurt me first.
Oliver shrugs. “Still. I couldn’t go out for a month. Kinda sucks when you unexpectedly have to buy a new tire and a phone charger.”
Is he trying to make me feel bad right now? Sure, I did a terrible thing, but I’m tired of punishing myself for it. And he’s not exactly a saint, either.
“You know, I always found it funny how you never had enough money to pay me back for rent, but somehow your weed stash was always full. Makes you think.”
“I don’t want to start a fight, Lila.”
“Then stop trying me.”
He sighs. “Look, I know what I did wasn’t okay. I’m just saying the tire thing was a low blow, not to mention the fish in my underwear drawer.”
“Did you ask me to come just so you could make me feel bad about something that happened almost a year ago? Something I apologized for?”
He runs a hand through his blond hair. It looks longer than it did the last time I saw him around campus before the summer. “I wanted us to talk because I’m sorry for what I did.”
“Okay,” I say slowly, knowing he’s not done.
And knowing I won’t like his next words either.
“I think we should try again. Give it another chance.” Oh, no, no, no. “Go on another first date, you know?”
“Oliver…” How can I say this without sounding like an absolute ass? “You cheated on me. I could never trust you again. You get that, right?”
“ You are the one not getting it.” He takes another swig of his energy drink before pinning me down with his reddened stare. “I fucked up, Li, and I’m sorry. But we were so good together, and it was just a onetime thing. I promise. It wasn’t a big deal, and it won’t happen again.”
I count to three in my head before answering. “It’s good that you’re apologizing for what you did, but it was a big deal to me. You betrayed my trust. And, even after so many months, it doesn’t look like you understand the gravity of what you did.”
“Babe, just hear me out—”
“Don’t call me that,” I cut him off. “I thought I’d made it clear in my texts that I didn’t want to get back together. If that’s why you asked me to come, I’ll be on my way now. I’m sorry, Oliver, but you’re wasting my time right now. I have things to do.”
“Like what? Fucking your professor?”
My entire body locks into place.
“What did you say?” I ask slowly.
Because surely he didn’t just say that.
Calm down. He’s just talking out of his ass because he feels rejected.
Oliver shrugs, reaching for a rolled joint on the coffee table. “You think I didn’t recognize him? He works with your mom, that Reed Abner guy. Professor of psychology and whatnot. And now you’re doing an internship with him? That’s convenient.”
Where the hell is this coming from?
But most importantly, I ask, “How do you know about my internship?”
He shrugs again. “Saw it on social media. You and Reed looked cozy at the park.”
I knew Haniyah often updated the youth center’s social media pages with pictures of our trips and activities, but I had no idea Oliver was so invested in my life post-breakup. For some reason, I expected him to forget about me even faster than I forgot about him.
It dawns on me, as I’m standing in the middle of my ex-boyfriend’s messy living room, that this is my nightmare come true. That it finally happened—someone just insinuated that I’m sleeping with a professor and that I used him to get where I am today.
And honestly? The fear doesn’t come. Neither does the anxiety.
I only find this whole thing pathetic.
“Don’t throw such baseless, cliché accusations at me just because I don’t want us to get back together,” I tell him, my head high. He won’t see me crumble because I won’t . “You know firsthand how hard I worked before Reed ever came into the picture. If you’re trying to make me give you a second chance—which won’t happen—this isn’t the way.”
“Whatever,” he mutters as he lights the joint and brings it to his mouth. The smell of weed intensifies as he lets out a cloud of smoke. “You’re sleeping with him, which is why you don’t want to sleep with me. I get it, babe. You’re not a cheater. Your secret’s safe with me.”
Where’s the hidden camera?
No, seriously. Is this a prank?
“Oliver.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not sleeping with anyone. And I’m most certainly not sleeping with a professor.”
Whether I want to or not is irrelevant to this conversation.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” he repeats, ignoring every single word I’ve just said. “Just be careful, yeah? Rumors spread like wildfire on campus.”
“All right. I’m out.” I can’t take this nonsense any longer. Hiking my backpack higher on my shoulder, I look around his apartment one last time. “Take care, Oliver. And don’t contact me ever again.”
He doesn’t look at me, his gaze lost on the coffee table as his joint burns. “Sure.”
When he doesn’t add anything else, I head right out of the door and don’t stop until I’m in my car.
Then, my breathing gets heavier.
Not because I think Oliver will spread any rumor about Reed and me—he’s too scared of my dad for that—but because I’m tired.
I’m tired of living inside the prison that is my head, built with bricks of self-made insecurities. I’ve had enough.
I know I didn’t use my parents’ connections to land my internship or any other opportunity.
I know Reed values me for my hard work and not because of my family.
I know damn well I’m not sleeping with him.
Who cares what other people think?
Sure, our relationship might not be exactly traditional, and the lines might have been blurred once or twice, but he’s not using his power to get something out of me. I’ve been raised to catch the warning signs. After Oliver, I’m never overlooking a single red flag ever again.
And Reed? He makes me feel like I have something worth offering to the world. He helped me see the light in myself, the one I thought had been extinguished long ago.
My conscience is clear. I don’t feel guilty over a single thing I’ve done or said to Reed. Which is why I grab my phone and don’t think twice about what I’m about to do, because it feels right .
And I deserve to start doing what feels good to me instead of trying to accommodate everyone’s feelings but mine.
Me: You were right. He did want to get back together (texting you because this is obviously an emergency)
His reply comes only a minute later.
Reed: Telling me I’m right is always an emergency. I hope you said no.
Me: What if I said yes?
I twist my necklace, unable to rein in my nerves. He looked jealous earlier, and I want to test my theory.
Reed: You’re too smart to have said yes.
Me: Mmm
Reed: You didn’t say yes, did you?
Me: Is that concern about my dating life I detect, Dr. Abner?
Reed: Yes, it is. Answer my question.
Me: Bossy much? Now I don’t want to answer.
Reed: Lila…
His frustration seeps through the phone, and it makes the butterflies in my stomach go a little wilder.
Me: I said no. Happy?
Reed: Very.
Me: Why?
Reed: Because you deserve the fucking best, and he isn’t it.
But you are, I want to text him.
I don’t.
Me: I could never get back with him. He was pretty stoned while we talked and said some dumb things.
Me: He deserved to get his tire slashed again.
Reed: Dumb how? Are you okay?
Me: All safe and sound in my car.
Reed: Good. Text me when you get home.
Me: Will do :)
I start my car, not expecting any more texts. But just as I’m about to pull away, my phone buzzes again.
Reed: Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your tire comment, little criminal. I’ve got a new assignment for you.
Me: Uh-oh…
Reed: You’re coming to a boxing lesson with me.
My heart stops. A boxing lesson. With Reed. At the gym.
My palms start sweating.
Me: I’m not sure that’s a good idea.
Reed: Why not?
Me: I don’t want to humiliate you in public.
Reed: Ha. Be ready on Friday.
Reed: Sound good?
It sounds dangerous , I type in before deleting my text.
All my life, I’ve played it safe. Maybe it’s time I hold my breath and dive in for once.
Me: Sounds good