Chapter 32
GAbrIEL
Cecilia is early to class this morning. Nothing out of the ordinary. But what sticks out to me is that she’s texting on her phone. Taking her usual seat beside me, she keeps her head tucked low as her fingers fly over her phone’s screen.
There’s a tentative smile on her face. Whoever she’s talking to, she likes them.
Jealousy digs angry claws into my chest.
Who is it? I need to know.
Cecilia doesn’t have a circle. She talks to me. Or at least, she did. And then she has her parents. It’s gotta be her mom or dad blowing up her phone right now. Except, normally when one of them messages her, she gets this pinched look on her face.
They worry about her. For good reason. I worry about her, too.
But they’ve become helicopter parents and all their hovering just pushes Cecilia away.
There’s usually a touch of annoyance on her face whenever they check in on her at school.
I’m sure it’s annoying, but I wish my parents were more like hers.
She doesn’t know how lucky she is that her parents actually give a shit.
Mine cut me out of their lives as soon as they could.
Watching her facial expressions now, she’s not at all annoyed. She’s … happy.
Fuck, she’s beautiful when she’s like this. Hell, she’s always beautiful, but seeing her smile. It’s something special. Something she rarely shows the outside world. Which is why I’m so taken aback right now. I’m not used to seeing Cecilia like this. Not out in the open.
She likes to keep her emotions locked down. Her expression blank.
Before, she’d give me these small smiles when we were together. But I’m not on the receiving end of them anymore.
I wish I could break into that pretty little head of hers and rummage around. I don’t like not knowing everything there is to know about her. Her reason for calling things off between us still doesn’t make any sense. If I could get inside her head, maybe I’d find some answers.
I stare down at her phone, trying to read the name on her screen, but it’s too small for me to make the letters out.
I need to know who she's talking to. The longer this back and forth messaging goes on, the more it sinks in that it is definitely not one of her parents. Is it a guy? Did she meet someone?
White hot fury courses through my veins. I swear to god if a dude is trying to move in on her … I shake my head.
It’s only been a few weeks. Weeks. Not months. And she didn’t break things off with me to see other people. She said she needed time to figure her shit out. To heal. And for some bullshit reason, she couldn’t do that and be in a relationship with me.
Fuck it. I need to know.
“Who are you talking to?” I ask, masking my irritation.
Her eyes flick toward me in surprise, like she hadn’t realized I was here, but her fingers continue moving across the screen.
“Just someone from the swim team.”
The swim team? Relief sweeps through me. Not another guy. Good.
“Are you thinking about trying out next season?” It’d be good for her. I don’t know anything about swimming, but I’ve seen Cecilia in the water. She’s fast.
“Umm …” Her cheeks pink. “They have a last-minute spot this season. One of the girls is injured,” she shrugs. “I’m thinking of trying out.”
“Yeah?” I smile wide, and her blush deepens.
“Mm Hmm.”
“When are tryouts?” I ask. It’s none of my business, but she’s talking to me and she hasn’t put any walls up yet. I want to keep her talking. See what else she might share.
“This Friday.”
Only a few days away.
“Hey, umm …” she sets her phone down on her desk and shifts in her seat to face me. There’s something she wants to ask me, but judging by the expression on her face, she doesn’t know where to start.
“Yeah?”
Cecilia chews on her bottom lip, and I have to fight back the urge to press my thumb against her mouth, freeing the abused flesh. She chews on her lip when she’s nervous.
What does she need to be nervous about?
“Did anything weird happen yesterday?”
My brows furrow together.
“During practice, I mean.”
Is she worried Holt and I beat the shit out of each other on the field? We sort of did, but not in the way she’d be implying.
“No. Not really.” I tell her. “Why? You worried about me?” The idea brings a smile to my face, but Cecilia doesn’t match it. She wrings her hands in her lap. An anxious gesture that makes my hackles rise.
“What happened?”
She drops her gaze. Shit. That means something did happen. But Holt was on the field with me the entire time.
“Did Holt—”
“No,” she cuts me off. “Nothing like that. It wasn’t him.” She purses her lips together and turns her head away. I get the feeling that last part, the bit about it not being him, she didn’t mean to say that part out loud because it implies that it was someone.
Fuck.
“Cecilia—”
She shakes her head without looking at me. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
That’s not going to happen. But before I can pry her for more information, our professor walks into the room.
“Good morning. Today we’ll be discussing—”
I tune him out and pull my phone from my pocket, firing a text off to Felix.
Me: Something happened with Cecilia yesterday. Can you ask around?
Felix: *Thumbs up* emoji.
It’ll have to do. Out of all of us, Felix is the most likely to find out. He talks to people outside of the team and our crew. He goes to the occasional party and likes to make new friends. People tell him things.
Cecilia pulls out her notebook and starts taking notes as Professor Arndt begins his lecture. He’s picking up where we left off yesterday. Delving deeper into oppression within diversity.
“Oppression can be thought of as the social act of placing severe restrictions on an individual, a group or an institution. Can anyone list the restrictions Israel has placed on Palestinians residing within Gaza?”
A girl to my left raises her hand.
“Miss James?”
“They’ve restricted freedom of movement and access to water.”
“Good. What else?”
Someone else raises their hand.
“Yes, Mr. Morel?”
“Aren’t those restrictions justified?” he asks.
All eyes turn to look at the jackass who just spoke, our gazes mostly a mixture of disgust and disbelief.
“Care to elaborate?” our professor asks.
The guy who spoke—Morel, or whatever the fuck his name is—grins. The idiot has no idea he’s already picked up the rope. Professor Arndt is giving him enough of it to hang himself with now.
“Israel’s duty is to its people,” he says. “The restrictions they’ve placed on Palestinians are there to protect their citizens from hostile terrorist groups since Hamas murdered Israeli citizens during the October 7th attack.” He leans back in his seat, a satisfied smirk on his face.
I can only shake my head. “Something to add, Mr. Herrera?”
Not particularly, but since you asked, “Only that regardless of their bullshit reasoning, none of it justifies what Israel is doing now,” I tell him. “Israel has been violently seizing Palestinian land while also creating an apartheid state. Hamas or no Hamas, you can’t justify that.”
“Israel has a right to defend itself,” some asshole in the back chimes in.
“No, they don’t. Not when it violates international law.” The girl—James—retorts.
“Ah, I see we’re getting somewhere,” Professor Arndt interjects. “Which leads me to this week’s assignment. You’re to get into groups of two and put together a presentation regarding whether the United States and other world powers should intervene in the current conflict—”
“Genocide,” I bite out.
He gives me a questioning look.
I lean forward on my desk. “It’s important to use the right terminologies,” I tell him.
“It’s not a conflict. And before anyone else chimes in, no, it doesn’t constitute a war.
The Palestinian people have no body of government.
They have no military. What’s happening in Gaza and in the West Bank is a genocide. ”
His eyes spark with approval.
I didn’t speak up to earn his approval. I spoke up because most of the people in this room have never had to deal with being discriminated against. They’ve never had themselves or members of their family oppressed.
Language matters. By definition, what is happening overseas right now is a fucking genocide.
No one here is going to convince me otherwise.
And yeah, the United States and world powers should be getting involved and they are.
But they’re helping out the wrong side. They’re supporting the oppressors.
“Right you are, Mr. Herrera,” he says. “And with that in mind, I want each group to take a position and justify your stance. Should the U.S. intervene in the genocide currently taking place or should they remain out of it? And if they intervene, what sort of action would you expect our government to take?”
“Regardless of which stance you choose to take in your assignment, you should be prepared to defend it with no less than four supporting arguments. I’ll give you a few moments to find your partners.”
My attention turns to Cecilia. “Me and you,” I tell her, not giving her a choice in the matter.
She exhales a soft sigh. “Are you sure that’s a good—”
“Idea?” I finish for her. “Yeah. I am.” No way am I letting someone else in this class be her partner.
There are maybe six other girls in the class, and from the looks of it, they’re already paired up which leaves Cecilia with me or some other guy.
This is a group assignment which means working together.
Studying and shit. Yeah, her and some random dude, not happening.
“You’ll need to work on the assignment outside of class,” our professor says.
“Presentations will be due at the beginning of class, not this Friday, but the following. We won’t have time to go over everyone’s presentations in class, so I’ll be drawing three at random.
Those individuals will be expected to present their arguments to the class.
The rest will be graded during my office hours, but I expect everyone to arrive prepared. Any questions?”
Everyone shakes their heads. “Very well. You can have the remainder of class to get started and sort out a schedule for you and your partner to meet outside of class.”
Reaching across the aisle, I muscle Cecilia’s desk closer until it buts up against mine.
“Was that necessary?” There’s a bite of annoyance in her tone.
“It was,” I tell her, offering up a shit-eating grin. Doing research for a politically charged presentation isn’t something I’d normally look forward to. But with this assignment, Cecilia has no choice but to spend time with me. That’s one hell of a win.
Her phone buzzes on her desk and this time I’m able to see the name that flashes across the screen when she looks down to read the incoming text.
Adriana (Swim Team)
What the fuck?
With a narrowed gaze, I skim my eyes over the text and violate Cecilia’s privacy. Ask me if I care.
Adriana (Swim Team): Want to grab lunch after class today?
I watch Cecilia type out her response.
Cecilia: Sure. Place?
Adriana (Swim Team): The burger place on campus. The Wolf Den?
Cecilia: See you there. *Heart emoji*
Heart emoji? Since when does Cecilia use emojis?
“Making plans?” My tone is casual, but I don’t think I mask my interest enough because Cecilia darkens the screen on her phone and shoves it back into her bag.
“Just lunch.”
I consider that and the person she’s having it with.
There’s only one Adriana I know personally.
It’s not an uncommon name, so there’s no reason for me to jump to conclusions, but I am.
There’s a good chance whoever Cecilia is talking to is someone I don’t know, but the knot in my stomach is telling me otherwise.
That her Adriana and mine are one and the same.
And if that’s the case, Adriana Aguirre and I are going to have some words.