Chapter Twenty
143 days until graduation
Walking around Columbia’s campus in early January is not one of the most sparkling moments of my American residency. Partially because it’s freezing cold, but also because I can’t stop my brain from constantly wandering to the events of last night.
Genevieve being on the balcony next to mine was not something I anticipated, but I also didn’t expect her to hurl snowballs at me.
The impulses I felt to treat Genevieve like an equal were too strong to ignore in that moment, making it impossible for me not to throw a snowball back at her—which turned out to be a terrible idea.
In truth, it was only supposed to be one, and even though there was a second one, it was never meant to be one made of ice.
My intentions were not, even for a moment, to inflict pain on Genevieve Alderidge.
I’ve felt terrible about the incident from the moment I walked back into my hotel room. My feelings only grew worse when Logan came back and described how hurt Genevieve actually was.
Genevieve and I were both hurting and needed someone to take it out on. Her internal battle within herself was obvious, and I feel like a dick for capitalizing off that and antagonizing her to her breaking point.
It’s over now though, and there’s nothing more I can do.
“Oh, my gosh,” Genevieve sighs as we enter the main library on campus. Of course, she’s whispering, it’s proper library etiquette. “This is absolutely gorgeous.”
I barely glanced at her this morning, because the one time I did, I caught a glimpse of the black eye marking her face. It makes me feel terrible seeing the damage I caused, especially when I know she’s probably somewhat covered with makeup, and underneath, the bruise is worse.
“Did you not get to come in here when you toured over the summer?” Winnifred asks her.
“No, it was closed for a lecture.” Genevieve’s response sounds distant as she’s more focused on gawking at the library.
I become bored by the tour, considering I already know everything I need to know about the university.
If I hadn’t already decided that Oxford was my top choice for my undergraduate studies—which I am fairly certain I will be accepted into—Columbia would be my next choice.Having the notoriety of an Ivy League school, while also being in NYC, has Columbia high on my list of serious university contenders.
“How long would it take for you to read all these books, Gen?” Eloise questions from where she stands nearby.
Genevieve is still not fully attuned to her friends, but rather the surrounding architecture. “I don’t have time to do the math right now.”
I chuckle quietly at the idea of Genevieve—if she had the time—calculating how long it would take for her to read every book in this room.
“I can’t believe this is where you’re going to school,” Logan says to Genevieve in awe. “Like look, Gen. This is where you’ll be studying.” He pats a table, making the lamp sitting atop it teeter.
Eloise slaps his shoulder, “You idiot. Stop touching things.” She reprimands, like he made a grave mistake.
“I’m sorry!” he yells in a whisper. “God, did you join our group today just to give me shit?”
“Yeah, I did.” She smiles.
We haven’t seen much of Eloise this trip because she was the one forced to room with someone else after she lost a game of rock, paper, scissors against Winnie and Genevieve.
She hasn’t seemed to mind, though. Her and Ivy—her roommate for the week—have spent lots of time wandering New York City.
The tour group continues walking while the five of us stand around the table in silence, as if we’re waiting for a librarian to approach and revoke Genevieve’s acceptance.
After a few seconds, we continue walking along with the group, the tour guide not talking as we pass through the library.
“Jameson, who knows, this could be where you end up going too.” Logan nudges me.
I glare at him, seeing Genevieve’s head snap back so fast she’s probably seeing stars.
She starts walking again once I’m standing next to her, making it so she’s walking in line with me. “You got in?” She asks, sounding shocked, even though we both know she shouldn’t be.
“Of course, I did.” My lips tug upward at her annoyance. “You’re not the only smart one, Genova.”
It’s then I realize how pretty she looks. She’s wearing a brown sweater and a neutral-colored plaid skirt. She also has a long, white coat, scarf and tights covering her legs to keep her warm. Her hair is perfectly curled, makeup pristinely placed among her features. The only imperfection I can spot is the slight undertone of a bruise surrounding her eye.
She is absolutely gorgeous, with or without the shiner blemishing her face.
We exit the library, which is perfect timing for her to respond in her genuine tone. “You know what, I hope you’re smart enough to get into Oxford, just so I have the pleasure of knowing you’ll be on a different continent,” she sneers.
I lean down so I’m closer to her height. “You don’t have to lie, love,” I whisper so the rest of the group doesn’t hear. “I know you’ll miss me, at least a little.” A visible shiver runs through her.
“You gave me a black eye last night, asshole.” She shoves me away. “Don’t act like you’ve given me any reason to want you to stay in America.”
“So, you’d be content if I went back to London tomorrow?”
Genevieve hesitates momentarily. “Make it today and I’ll buy the ticket for you.” She finally taunts. Based on the amount of the time it took her to say it, I doubt she actually feels that way.
She can hate me and stomp her feet about how unfair it is that I’m here, but we both know, deep down, that she enjoys having the competition. I’m the only person in this school who is on the same playing field as her, and she gets to prove she’s not only smart among her peers, but among anyone.
Still, her insinuation has me rolling my eyes.“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Genova.”
“Don’t placate me!” she snaps. “This isn’t about you, it’s about my hatred.”
“It involves me when you’re talking about your hatred for me,” I remind her.
Genevieve is good at compartmentalizing, especially when it comes to me. She has always attempted to keep me and her opinions toward me completely separated, even though they are synonymous.
On the contrary, I hold Genevieve and my feelings toward her hand in hand. Her personality correlates with everything I know about her, and to separate the two would be a disservice to her.
“Okay, everyone!” A chaperone calls out, signaling the end of the tour. “We are going to allow you to split into groups of five. You and your group can go get lunch and meet back at the hotel by three o’clock for a conference with some of the top university scouts in the country!”
How thrilling.
Of course, Logan, the girls, and I all get grouped together for the rest of the day.
It took almost fifteen minutes of arguing about where we should go eat before Logan made the executive decision to make the choice himself. So, by default, we end up at one of Logan’s favorite high-rise Italian restaurants, right in the center of the city.
“I can’t believe we ended up here,” Genevieve grunts in discontent as she pulls her chair out from the table.
The Italian restaurant is upscale, and even though it’s light outside, there are candles lighting the establishment, with small crystal chandeliers over every table. The view of the city from the window we’re sitting against is amazing, considering we’re on at least the twentieth floor of the building.
None of us are properly dressed to be here, except maybe Genevieve. After looking around at the rest of the customers in suits and business attire, I”m shocked they even sat us.
“How could you be mad when I chose pasta?” Logan retorts. “If it was up to you, we would have been going to a cafe to eat New York style bagels.” Everyone, including me, groans at the thought.
“What do you have against bagels?” she asks in return, looking offended by his comment.
“We already ate bagels this morning, and we’re probably going to eat them every morning the entire time we’re here,” I interject.
I’ve already heard Logan’s complaints about Genevieve’s predilection for bagels this morning. I’m starting to see the way his diet mainly consists of them when he comes to NYC with the girls.
“You guys don’t have to eat what I eat,” she responds.
“Just like you don’t have to eat what we eat,” I counter. “No one’s forcing you to be here.”
“Actually, we have to stay with our groups, so I technically am being forced into this establishment based on a four-to-one vote,” Genevieve says. “Obviously, it wasn’t in my favor.”
We order our drinks. Logan and I get sodas, and the girls all get Shirley Temples.Genevieve and Winnifred are debating splitting a bowl of pasta while munching on breadsticks.
“I thought you didn’t want to eat here, Gen?” Logan teases as she grabs another breadstick.
“This bread is the closest I’m getting to a bagel.” she says, the sarcasm evident in her voice. “If only there was cream cheese.”
We all knew Genevieve was going to eat pasta once we got here; it is just a part of her nature to put up an argument over it.
“What are you thinking of getting?” He motions to the two girls.
“Lasagna,” Winnifred answers. “Do you think it will be big enough for us to just split?” She asks.
Logan looks as if he’s been trapped between a rock and a hard place. “You’re teetering in dangerous territory,” I mutter with a small smile.
Logan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Listen ladies, the amount of food you eat, especially pasta, is not up for the interpretation of a man,” he explains, making the girls chuckle “So, if you want to both get lasagna, go for it.”
“He’s so cute.” Eloise bursts out laughing, looking between the girls as if they already know something.
“What?” Logan’s brows knit together.
“They’re playing you like a violin,” I tell him, laughing along with the girls.
“You really think we would be offended if you told us whether one lasagna would be enough for the both of us, based on how much we normally eat?” Winnifred asks rhetorically.
Logan runs a palm over his face. “Hell, I don’t know.”
“It was an honest question, not one aimed to make you look like a misogynistic asshole,” Genevieve answers.
Logan grabs another breadstick, pointing it between the three girls like a sword. “You women are cruel.”
“How do you think we’ve survived in this society?” Genevieve asks before pointing her gaze at me. “By not letting men walk all over us.”
Knowing that the last comment was clearly directed toward me, I decide against responding.
Instead, Logan does. “Strong women,” he says, giving all three of them fist bumps. “My favorite.”
It has come to our attention, as more time progresses since we ordered our food, that all five of us have quickly become hangry, leaving the conversation to simmer out.
When our food arrives, everyone is practically salivating at the view of our plates being set in front of us.
“I’ve never been more excited for something that’s not a bagel in my life.” Eloise sighs as her rigatoni gets sat down in front of her.
She said exactly what we are all thinking. After walking all morning around the city, only fueled by a bagel, we’re all close to crashing.
Logan groans into the first bite of his pasta. “Everyone can thank me later.”
Winnifred and Genevieve are too busy splitting their lasagna into two pieces to even register what he says. Genevieve is holding a knife and fork while Winnifred holds the pan steady. Finally, they get a piece of the pasta onto a second plate.
I watch as Genevieve groans into her first bite of pasta, which immediately makes me feel a hundred degrees hotter. It’s one thing to have a pretty girl sitting across from me at a restaurant, but it’s a whole other thing to have her eating food she enjoys with no restraint or care.
That’s one thing I’ve always liked about Genevieve. She’s strong-willed, but she also doesn’t care what other people think of her. She’s secure enough with herself to not worry about other people’s opinions.Who fucking cares if she’s scarfing down pasta like her life depends on it? No one, and she knows that, therefore she doesn’t give it a second thought.
For the rest of the time we spend in the restaurant, our table is nearly silent. There are a few light conversations, but besides that, we all focus on eating.
After that, we get an Uber and head back to the hotel. If it weren’t for the university scouts conference being hosted there—and our attendance being mandatory—we would have stayed in the city for a while longer.
“We’re going to head back to our room for a while,” Genevieve says once we enter the lobby.
“I think that’s what we’ll do too,” Logan responds, motioning between the two of us.
“I’m going to go find Ivy,” Eloise says. “See what she’s doing.”She heads down the hall while the rest of us go toward the elevator.
Ours and the girls” rooms are right next to each other, making it look as if we’re escorting them back to their room for their protection, which Logan seems to take seriously.The girls grumble when Logan tells them to lock their door behind them, like teen girls getting upset at their dad for telling them to be careful.
“We’ll see you at the conference, right?” he asks as they shut the door.
“Yup!” Winnifred smiles, shutting the door.
Logan sighs, waiting for the sound of the lock being turned before unlocking our door.
“Why are you so worried about them?” I ask. “They seem to be handling themselves fine.
He looks at me, a small smile working his jaw. “You don’t know those girls like I do.” And I know he’s right.
I really, really don’t.