Chapter 44
Ace
It’s Thursday morning and my ass should be in class, but instead, I’m storming down the hallway of the advising building, gripping the strap of my backpack like I’m about to use it as a weapon.
I only got through one of my classes before I couldn’t do it anymore.
I simply couldn’t walk into another lecture hall, sit behind Julia and Drew, and pretend I don’t see the way he touches her arm when he makes a joke.
Every fucking time she laughs over something he says—which is probably fucking stupid—my mind reminds me that that laugh used to be mine.
I used to be the guy who made Julia laugh.
I used to be the guy who walked her to class and sat beside her in each one.
But I’m not that guy anymore.
So, like a fucking coward, I bailed on my second class of the day, and now I’m standing in front of Cynthia Patreetus’s door, knocking once before pushing it open. I tried to come here Monday, but her secretary said she was out of the office until today.
She looks up from her computer, a little startled at first, but when she sees me, she immediately rolls her eyes and lets out a soft laugh. “Ace Kelly,” she greets. “No appointment, no warning, and not even a coffee bribe this time? To what do I owe this mildly chaotic interruption?”
I drop into the chair across from her with a sigh. “I need to change my schedule.”
She gives me a look that is equal parts amused and exhausted. “Nice to see you too.”
“I’m serious,” I say. “I want to go back to my original class plan.”
She freezes, and her fingers hover over the keyboard of her computer. “You mean, the schedule you abandoned because, I quote, ‘this version is more aligned with what I need to have a challenging, optimized, experience-driven academic structure’?”
“Yeah. That one.”
Cynthia leans back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest. “Why the sudden shift?”
I stare at the corner of her desk and shrug. “I just think that was the better schedule for me.”
She gives me a look that says she’s not buying it.
“Personal reasons,” I add quickly. “It’s just not working out.”
Cynthia squints at her screen and starts clicking. “You’re six weeks in, Ace. Add/drop’s been closed. You know that.”
“I figured you might make an exception.”
She raises an eyebrow. “On what grounds?”
I hesitate, then repeat, “I just think that was the better schedule for me.”
“The better schedule for you,” she repeats slowly, as if she’s waiting for me to crack.
I don’t.
She sighs. “You’re lucky I like you, Kelly.”
“I know.” I smile, and hope starts to inflate my chest like a balloon.
That is, until her words pop that fucker like a pin. “But this isn’t happening. You’re locked in unless you’ve got a documented emergency. Death in the family. Medical. Academic probation. Time travel. Take your pick.”
I lean forward and hold my hands together like I’m praying. “Come on, Cynthia. There’s gotta be something.”
“Ace, you’re not failing anything. According to the portal, you’re thriving. You’re not being bullied. No one’s reported emotional distress. So unless a doctor, therapist, or alien abduction expert signs off, I can’t override university policy.”
I let my head fall back against the chair. “So, I’m stuck.”
“Afraid so.” When I look up again, I realize her eyes are on me in a way that showcases her skepticism. She knows something is up. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie. The truth is, I’d rather crawl out of my own skin than sit through another fifty-minute lecture with Julia pretending I never kissed her and told her I’m in love with her.
But looks like I’m going to have to find a way to suffer through it.
Also, I’m probably going to have to get brainiac Lexi to help me study and shit because Julia was always my go-to tutor.
Basically, everything is fucked.
“Thanks anyway, Cynthia,” I say and rise to my feet.
“Of course. Let me know if you invent time travel. Then I’d be happy to help you.”
I’m already halfway out the door when I mutter to myself, “Yeah, funny thing, if I could time travel, I wouldn’t need a new schedule. I’d rewind a couple months. To before I screwed everything up.”
Zip’s Diner smells like grease and burnt toast, which should feel comforting, but right now it makes me queasy.
Finn never texts first. Hell, Finn barely texts at all, but this morning after I left Cynthia’s office, I got a text from him that said, Lunch. Today. Zip’s. Don’t bail.
So, even though I really wanted to bail, I didn’t. Finn can be fucking scary when he wants to.
He and Blake are already in a booth when I walk in. Finn is drinking black coffee because he’s a fucking masochist, and Blake is halfway through a plate full of eggs and bacon. I won’t be surprised if that’s only his appetizer. That bastard can eat a truck when he’s in season.
“Hey,” I say, sliding in across from them.
Blake looks up, but immediately, his smile drops to a frown. “Dude. What the hell is going on with you? You look like you’ve been sleeping in the back seat of your own grief.”
“I’m fine,” I mutter.
Finn gives me a long look. “Fine? Get real, Ace. You haven’t been around all week. No texts. No party-pushing. No annoying late-night house calls where you try to convince Scottie and me to hide in the bushes in Central Park with you. Hell, you even skipped class this morning.”
“How do you know I skipped class this morning?” I narrow my eyes. “You got surveillance on me or something?”
Finn taps the side of his mug. “Scottie ran into Julia outside Nash. Said you weren’t in Calc.”
In the span of ten seconds, I go through what feels like every emotion possible. Julia mentioned I wasn’t in class? So, she was thinking about me? Is she thinking about me?
“Did she…uh…say anything about me?” I ask and immediately want to grab the words from the air and shove them back down my throat.
Don’t be suspicious. Don’t be suspicious. That stupid fucking TikTok sound blares in my head, and I do my best to pretend to look at the menu even though I know it by heart. Hell, a few months ago, Zip even named a burger after me.
Finn and Blake don’t miss a fucking beat, though. Blake raises an eyebrow, and Finn is looking at me so closely I swear he might be able to bore actual holes into my skull.
“What’s going on, man?” Blake asks.
“What do you mean?” I retort, choosing the defensive route. “Nothing’s going on.”
“Oh, something’s going on, bro,” Finn challenges. “So, you might as well tell us why you look like a kicked puppy in a hoodie.”
Blake leans in slightly. “Did something happen with Julia?”
I stare down at my hands. I could lie. I could make it smaller than it is, but the words slip out, quiet and sharp, before I can stop them. “I kissed her.”
The silence is immediate. Heavy.
“When?” Blake asks, like I just confessed to murder.
“Saturday night. After the Double C event.”
Finn straightens. “And?”
“And I told her I’m in love with her.”
“Holy shit.” Blake chokes on his drink. “But that’s good, right? I mean, you finally told her how you really feel.”
Finn is still staring at me. Not judging. Just watching. “You finally did the thing. You finally told Julia Brooks you’re in love with her.”
“She didn’t take it well,” I say, voice dry. “Basically, the whole thing blew up in my fucking face.”
“What?” Blake questions, shock highlighting every line of his features. “What do you mean, it blew up your face?”
I push at a napkin on the table. “She said…she’s been waiting around for me. That all these years, I never saw her the way she saw me. And now that she’s with Drew, she thinks I suddenly want her. Like some fucking puppy who’s jealous someone else has his toy.”
Finn whistles low. “Ouch.”
“She’s never been on the sidelines, not to me. She’s always been it. The girl. My girl. I—” I stop, exhaling hard. “Deep down, I thought she knew. Deep down, I thought Julia understood that no one else compares to her.”
Neither of them says anything for a second.
Then Finn says, “Did you tell her that?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Everything got pretty fucked up after I told her I was in love with her and mentioned some of the shit I’ve done to be closer to her. She wasn’t happy about any of it. She said she felt manipulated. Felt like I violated her.”
“Oh shit. That’s no bueno,” Blake mutters.
“I know. And it’s the furthest thing from the truth. I mean, I wasn’t trying to manipulate her. I only wanted to be close to her. I just wanted to be with her.”
Finn looks at me like he doesn’t exactly agree with me, but Blake clears his throat and asks, “So…let me get this straight. You kissed her, told her you loved her, told her the wild shit you’ve been doing since you realized you’re in love with her, and then she walked?”
“Not exactly,” I answer. “I saw her agree to be Drew’s girlfriend at the Double C after party, and that really fucked with my head.”
“Scottie and I saw,” Finn murmurs. “I was hoping you missed it.”
“Oh, I fucking saw it. So much so that I left early and waited like a stalker by my front door for signs of her to come home. I had to watch Drew fucking kiss her, and the instant that asshole was gone, I walked straight over to her apartment and…kissed her. She kissed me back, and I told her I was in love with her and mentioned the fire I started in my apartment so I could move in to her apartment and how I broke her AC unit and—”
“You started a fucking fire in your apartment?” Blake booms. “What the fuck? How didn’t I know this?”
“Probably because you were so far up Lexi’s ass you didn’t have time to do anything else.”
He shrugs and nods. “That’s valid.” But then he smiles like a man in love because the woman he loves conveniently loves him back. Hell, they’ve officially moved in together and shit.
“Okay, so what happened after you told her all the shit?” Finn asks.
“I left.”
“You left?” Blake questions. “What do you mean, you left?”
I shrug. “I left because it hurt too fucking much to hear her say the shit she was saying. I mean, she thinks I only want her as my backup plan. Like, what the fuck? You don’t start a fucking fire for a woman if you want her as a backup plan.”
Blake runs a hand through his hair. “Still can’t believe you set your apartment on fire, man.”
Finn leans back slowly, the realization sinking in. “So…you guys haven’t talked since Saturday?”
“Nope.”
“So, what, you’re just not friends anymore?” Blake asks, his lips turning down at the corners.
I stare at the table. “I guess not.”
That word—friends—feels too small for what we were. But it’s the only word that mattered.
And now, it’s gone.
Blake lets out a breath. “You and Julia not being friends is like…gravity not working. It doesn’t compute.”
“Fuck, Ace.” Finn nods. “You’ve been locked in since birth. Matching costumes. Shared birthday parties. You and Julia not being friends doesn’t make any fucking sense.”
I try to smile. I can’t.
“She was everything,” I say. “And now I don’t even know what we are.”
Blake sighs and leans back against the booth. “Clearly, this is fixable,” he says, and I shake my head.
“I wish I could tell you it is, but I don’t think so.” The moment we broke our fifteen-minute rule, it felt like there was no going back from it. It felt…final. “Can we talk about something else?” I toss out and run a hand over my face. “Anything fucking else?”
There’s a pause, then Finn asks, “So…uh… Double C this weekend, Mr. President? Surely you’re planning something big…”
Fucking Double C. I love it, and I hate it at the same time. Frankly, it was when I got initiated as president that everything went to shit with Julia.
“You know it,” I say, but the words don’t sound excited and shit. They’re monotone as fuck. They’re just there.
Blake perks up. “You gonna tell us what it is?”
Technically, I shouldn’t tell them jack shit about what it is.
But instead, I hear my tired and flat voice say, “It’s called Midnight Market.
Everyone gets fake currency and has to buy their way to clues.
Campus-wide black-light scavenger hunt. Live snakes, probably.
A goat. Oh, and Finn, I added all three of your brothers to the text invite list.”
“Greaaaat.” Finn’s not thrilled, but neither am I. And when Ace Kelly suffers, everyone suffers.
“Dude, that sounds wild.” Blake stares. “But I’m pretty sure you weren’t supposed to tell us any of that shit…”
I shrug. “Probably not.”
Finn pushes his plate toward me. “Eat. You sound like you’re hallucinating.”
I pick up a fry. Bite it. It tastes like nothing. I don’t even bother dipping it in ketchup, but that’s mostly because I feel like the fucking ketchup bottle is standing there judging me.
I know I should be hyped. Double C events are my thing. And I’m the fucking prez, for fuck’s sake.
But right now, everything but Julia feels like white noise.