Spring Fever by Lee Geneva

Author:Lee, Geneva
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ivy Estate
Published: 2020-05-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Eight weeks, three days, and about three hours and twenty minutes later, I’d made an art out of avoidance. It wasn’t like pre-med was a cakewalk. I’d had plenty to keep me distracted—study groups, MCAT guides, and to-do lists. The girls recognized that bringing him up was taboo. Cassie even stopped teasing me about all the embarrassment I’d endured in Mexico. But all the careful scheduling, planning, and care-taking couldn’t account for the one thing I couldn’t control: geography.

Particularly my friends’ geography. I couldn’t control where Jillian and Cassie went in Olympic Falls, what buildings they had classes in, or when they had to be in the communications department. Still, when Cassie arrived in my apartment and announced she’d run into Roman, it felt like a punch in the stomach. It sucked the air from me, but I tried to hide it. I failed.

Cassie’s eyebrow arched up as she took in my shock. Tossing her purse on my couch, she asked, “Do you want to know what he said?”

I nodded. Then shook my head. Then nodded again.

“You look like a fucking bobble head,” she told me, dropping onto a barstool.

I nodded once more.

“You have chosen…wisely,” she said, playing with a crocheted potholder. “He asked how you were.”

I waited, but she didn’t continue. “And?”

“And what?” she asked. “He asked about you.”

“That’s hardly noteworthy.” I fought against a surge if disappointment. What had I expected him to ask her? In my fantasies, I imagined running into him myself. I imagined him showing up on my doorstep. I imagined I hadn’t gotten on that plane. I imagined a lot of things when it came to Roman.

“Well, that’s all he said. How he looked was a different story.”

I threw my hands up in frustration. Getting the whole story out of Cassie was about as easy as catching a greased pig. “Are you enjoying this?”

“I am. Thank you for asking.” She shot me a coy smile.

“Spill.”

“He looked hopeful and sad, and then he started to say something else, but he hesitated.”

“That’s it?”

“I know what he was going to say,” she said with a shrug.

“Oh, you’re psychic now. We’ll have to set up a hotline. How’s your Jamaican accent?” I crossed my arms over my chest. Then uncrossed them and dug a to-do list out of a stack on the coffee table.

“Chill, ‘mon,” she said in the worst fake accent of all time. “You’re deflecting.”

“Did you learn that in freshman psych?”

“I am a psych minor,” she reminded me. “He misses you. He was going to say he missed you.”

“Okay.” I pretended to study the list, but I couldn’t quite ignore the way my heart leapt when she said those words. Suddenly Olympic Falls didn’t seem so big or safe or far from the one thing I had to stay away from. Roman missed me, and I missed him.

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