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sort of evil plan in her head, of how he meant for this to go down exactly the way it did. Leave it to her theater brain to do just that.
    “That’s weird,” I tell her. “He wouldn’t do that.” I don’t know why I’m defending him.
    “You only say that because you’re in love with him,” she points out, and my anger explodes.
    “I AM NOT!”
    “Okay,” she backs off, but I can foresee the argument she’s preparing in her head. Hell, I even know what some of it is - that I haven’t slept with anyone since, that I don’t let guys stay over, that I still talk about him, etc.
    “I’m not,” I repeat.
    “Fine,” she laughs.
    “I won’t even call him back, even though I promised I would,” I tell her, just to prove a point.
    She smiles, shaking her head, saying nothing as she gets up and walks out. She shuts the door behind her, and I fall on my bed dramatically.
    I don’t call him back, just like I told her I wouldn’t. I text him instead.
     
     
    I stay up until 2am, texting with my old chemistry teacher about nothing at all, and when I finally fall asleep, I dream about board games and beakers.
    The next morning, I’m a zombie, going through the motions of getting ready without fully aware of what I’m doing. The cold air that hits me as soon as I leave my dorm is the first thing to actually fully wake me up.
    Luke is waiting with one leg propped up against the brick building, holding two cups of steaming hot coffee.
    “Good morning sunshine,” he leaps as soon as he sees me.
    “You know I hate when you call me that,” I take a cup from him. “How was the Caribbean?”
    “Boring,” he admits. “I wish you came.”
    “Sorry, I had some stuff to take care of at home.”
    “Yeah, that’s what you said,” he hesitates. “You know, I called a few times. Even stopped by your room last night.”
    “I know-” I begin my apology, but it’s not necessary.
    “You ignoring me, Cunningham?” He teases.
    “No,” I stop walking and face him.
    “Good,” he smiles before slowly leaning in. I brace myself, trying to ignore the fact that I shouldn’t have to brace myself to kiss my boyfriend. My eyes remain open as his lips meet mine, harsh and… timid . They’re thin and chapped, not soft and powerful, like I remember… No! Don’t even go there !
    I pull back, my eyes wide. Luke was the first guy I was able to actually think about without thinking of him , and now it’s happening all over again.
    “What’s wrong?” He opens his eyes, his lips still puckered.
    “I don’t wanna be late,” I offer a quick smile. “First day and all.”
    “Of course you don’t,” he sighs, and we start walking. “So I was thinking… Maybe tonight I could come over?” I look at him quizzically. He usually sort of just shows up without making plans. “You have a single, so it’s better than if you come to my place, and I really missed you.”
    “I-” I swallow, scrunching my eyes, unsure of what he’s actually asking, if anything.
    “I don’t mean for us to do anything you’re not ready to!” He interrupts quickly, after seeing my reaction. “I just mean for us to maybe spend the night together, with no pressure or presumptions.”
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I bite my lip, backing up towards the building my class is in. “I’m a really bad sleeper,” I lie. “You’d end up hating me.”
    I leave before he has the chance to say anything more, briskly walking far, far away. My heart feels heavy, beating in my chest stronger than it should, and I run to the nearest bathroom, weaning off the anxiety attack before it hits me full on.
     
     
    I manage to make it to class only five minutes late. I’m desperately trying to pay attention, as this is the most important class I’ll probably take in my undergrad career, not to mention my very last. It’s my only class this semester, as most of the time I’ll be student teaching.
    The professor is droning on about guiding