Breaking the Wrong (10 page)

Emilia reaches out and taps a fingernail against the black rim. “The glasses you’re wearing. How long have you needed them?”

“I’ve worn glasses since I was five and contacts since I was fourteen.”

She stares at the lenses for a long second. “I wear glasses sometimes.”

“You do?” I lean close. “You still wear them?”

She sets her pencil down and laces her fingers in front of her. She seems so serious. The dimple in her right cheek gives her an innocent look. “I wear contacts. But, for a while, shoving something in my eye freaked me out a bit. I started wearing contacts at sixteen.”

After our talk at the rec center, I know she has a bit of fire in her. When she talked about that article, her eyes took on a haunted expression. She was with me, but she really wasn’t. All her anger was directed at me that day, and I had no idea why. I had agreed with her and understood her disgust. Somehow, she still seemed mad at me.

Now, the longer I sit across from her, I see that Emilia is good at masking her feelings. If I look closely, I’m beginning to recognize when she’s upset, confused or angry.

“What do you do besides read, swim and drink all that gross coffee?” Emilia leans forward, waiting for me to answer.

To the right of her, a grad student named Sebastian stares at her. He looks her up and down, practically drooling. I want to aim my pencil at him like a fucking dart and hope it’s a bull’s eye. She’s oblivious.

Even at the rec center she was blind to any looks directed her way. I was leaving with Chris when he caught her playing with Tosha. I stood next to him and watched with everyone else. She had on a short tennis skirt and a tight tank top. She was fast. I ended up leaning closer and watching her for more than her little outfit. When she talked to Tosha, a bright smile was on her face.

I have never seen her smile. It was a sucker punch to my gut because I wasn’t prepared for it. Maybe I wasn’t prepared for Emilia, in general. I’m trying to stick my neck out here, and all my efforts pass right above her head. I don’t know what it takes to get someone’s attention. With Severine, there was no effort from me. She pursued; she talked. There was no challenge with her.

Emilia is nothing but a challenge, and I’m finding myself wanting to rise to the occasion. It must be the Sloan blood in me. 

Looking down at my book I reluctantly tell her, “Why don’t you work on your problems?”

Quickly, she tosses her pencil on the table and slides her calculator away. “I’m done.”

She leans back in her chair and stretches. I look at the curve of her neck, knowing my eyes are about two-seconds away from veering south.

I lift my glasses off my face and rub the bridge of my nose. “No, you answered number five wrong.”

Her brows slant low and she looks down at her notebook. “How do you even know that?”

“I’m your tutor.” I slide her calculator to her. “I just know.”

Her hands lower and I feel relief. Until she crosses her arms underneath her tits. She’s wearing this dress that most girls would wear in the summer. It’s driving me crazy how it plunges into a v-neck. Emilia fills it out perfectly, making it even worse. When she leans over her notebook, I lean with her just to catch a glimpse of her cleavage.

She picks up her pencil and taps the eraser against notebook. “So I re-read
As I Lay Dying
last night.”

“The whole thing?”

“Most of it,” she admits.

I raise my brows. “You like the book that much?”

“No, I was jut trying to see the Darl you see. I thought ... maybe I’m not seeing all the pain Darl is in.”

“And did you see it?”

“Nope.” She smiles with a challenge in her eyes. “I didn’t see it.”

Shaking my head, I lean back in my chair. “You didn’t get it, then.”

“I did too!” she insists. Her mouth opens to say more, but she pauses and cocks her head to the side. “I just think you’re looking so hard for the good in him.”

“Or maybe you just love to find the villain in stories and he seemed like a good candidate,” I point out.

“Who doesn’t love a good villain? They keep books alive!”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her that when you’re viewed as the villain in real life, it makes finding them in books all the more depressing.

“They keep
some
books alive,” I admit. “Not all.” She opens her mouth to say more and I quietly say, “Just work on your derivatives, okay?”

Emilia goes back to her work just as my phone stops vibrating in my pocket. I finally pull it out and see a text from Chris:
I have a girl over. She brought a friend...

I haven’t been with a girl in months. Fourteen-year old boys are getting more action than me right now. My finger hovers above the call button, and I’m close to calling Chris to tell him yes. I could tell Emilia that we need to cut this short, that I have other plans and everything would work out.

Just then, Emilia coughs. I glance at her, and all her concentration is on the textbook spread out in front of her.

I press call and Chris picks up on the fourth ring. “You got my text?” he asks. I hear females in the background.

“Yeah.”

“Are you coming?”

“I can’t.” My fingers drum on the table, and I watch Emilia scrunch her lip again. “I’m busy.”

I snap my phone shut and go back to reading my book. I can feel Emilia’s eyes on me.

“Who was that?” she asks curiously.

“No one, just my roommate. Keep going,” I urge. “You still have six problems left.”

Emilia keeps her dark eyes on me for a second. Her quiet demeanor prevails and she goes back to work.

My head is down, making it look like I’m reading. I had a chance to fuck someone, but I skipped out to stare at the girl I tutor. But it’s Wednesday and I won’t get to see her like this again until Friday.

I’ll take what I can get.

EMILIA

Macsen has been tutoring me for five weeks.

I’m learning more about him during each session. Maybe I’m weaker than I thought because I’m feeling something for the guy that I should completely hate.

It makes my conversations with Aniston tense. I’ve never hidden things from my brother. We’ve been this strong unit, and now I’m keeping things to myself.

Sometimes I think he can tell, but it doesn’t really matter because when we get off the phone, I know he goes straight to the bar and drinks all his pain away.

Looking down at my phone, I stare at Aniston’s text:
Shouldn’t take this long to get revenge.

I’m trying
.

Quickly, I slide my phone back into my pocket. When I look up, Macsen is shutting his book. “Texting your boyfriend?”

I give him a dull expression. “Yeah,” I say sweetly. “We just got done talking about your bad taste in fictional characters.”

Macsen rolls his eyes. Around us, people are slowly starting to filter out of the room. We’ve lost track of time. Again.

“Shit,” Macsen glances down at his watch, “it’s eight already.” He glances over at me as he shuts down his laptop. “Are you going to read
The Woman in White
tonight?” he asks.

I gather my papers and neatly stack them. Macsen just spent the last hour telling me about this book. “I plan on it, but I have a roommate that religiously watches reality shows. I need ear plugs just to concentrate.”

I’ve rambled and realize my blunder when Macsen asks, “Who’s your roommate?”

My hands stop shuffling things around, and I briefly look over at him. “Severine Blake.”

He slides off his glasses. I want to tell him to put them back on. When he looks down at the carpet, I grind my teeth, mad that I even mentioned her name. “I didn’t know you were her roommate.”

“Yep,” I reply lightly.

He stands and slings his bag over his shoulder. “So then you’ve heard about me.”

“Do I know that you used to date her? Yes.” I slide my notebook into my bag and continue gathering all my things. “Do I know that you cheated? Yes, but that’s it.”

“I doubt that.” Macsen leans against the table. When I start walking, he matches my strides. I’m used to walking with him outside. He stopped hurrying out the door two weeks ago and now talks to me. “Every girl on campus hates me.”

If he thinks that, then he’s just flat-out paranoid. He may receive a few glares, but I know his fan club outweighs the anti-Macsen club on campus. “I think that statistic is really, really off,” I say dryly.

He looks over at me with a funny expression. “I just find it hard to believe she hasn’t filled you in on everything.”

Honestly, it’s surprised me too. “Maybe she’s so happy, there’s just no reason for her to ... mention you.”

We’re halfway out the door when he stops walking and turns around. I run into his chest and he straightens me, saying nothing.

I break the quiet and ask, “Does that bother you?”

His hands are still on my shoulders. I don’t think he even realizes it. “That she’s with Thayer?”

I nod my head and he says nothing. His green eyes won’t leave my face. Unblinking, completely unmoving. 

“Do you still have feelings for her?” I blurt out.

He moves away, and his hands disappear from my body. “Do I still have feelings for her?” he repeats to himself.

I nod again and follow him outside.

“I think about her ... but not in that way,” he finally says. “It’s more along the lines of thinking about what I did to her.”

“Would you take it back?”

Macsen deliberates over my question before he answers. “Every single second, even my time spent with her.”

My head pulls back and I stare at him skeptically. “Why?”

“Severine and I ... we never matched, Emilia.” He pulls his hat out from his back pocket and speaks so casually. There’s no pain in his voice. If I was questioning whether he still wanted his ex, I no longer had to wonder. “From day one, we were all wrong.” 

My head turns down. I stare at the rock next to my shoes and push it back and forth. “Then why date her to begin with?”

His foot reaches out and intercepts my little game of soccer. I crane my neck and look him in the eye. “You’ve never taken a chance on something?”

My body needs to keep busy. I want that rock back, I’ll even settle on a bee landing on my shoulder. I just want to be busy. Instead, I toy with my fingers. “I’m taking a chance right now.”

Truth. Everything I just told him was the truth.

For the past month, I’ve watched Macsen Sloan. He always looks so bored, like everyone is wasting his time. A book is always in his hands. Most of the time, he keeps to himself. He goes against everything I’ve read about him and that makes him fascinating to me.

I think this makes me the worst sister. 

Frequently, I remind myself to wait for the other side of his personality to kick in. But it never does.

Everyone’s true colors come out over time. I wonder how long it will take for Macsen’s to show.

“What is your chance?” he asks me seriously.

I stare behind him at the stream of light provided by the pole light. “Being here on my own, and…”

He takes a step forward and blocks my view of the parking lot—my view of everything. “And what?”

“And, I don’t know.” I veer to the left, far away from him. “Moving on with my life.”

I’m making no sense. My heart is close to ripping out of my chest. I moved here for one reason. Now that reason is becoming like an ancient letter, fading more and more with time. If I stared at it right now, I’d never be able to make out the words.

“You make it sound like you’re asking for permission,” Macsen tells me, searching my face.

I want to get far away from here, but Macsen’s words are pulling me closer. “What are you talking about?”

“Moving on with your life.” He waves a hand in the air before tucking his hands into his pockets. “You can’t even say it with confidence.”

I tuck my arms tight in defense because his words are hitting way too close to home.  “I do too.”

“You really don’t.”

“You know nothing about me,” I say the words softly, but it’s a warning.

“You’re right.” He takes a rigid step back. “I know nothing about you, but I know what it’s like to try and move on from the past.”

If he weren’t in front of me, I would burst in tears. I run his words over in my head, wondering what he’s trying to escape.

Macsen is walking away, and I can’t move my feet, even if I tried. I plant my hands on my hips. He turns around and directs his eyes at me. “I’ve spent my entire life questioning my mistake, trying to move on. Last year, I stopped doubting and just did something. I’m nowhere I want to be, but it’s fucking better than where I was.”

~

I wait until Macsen pulls out of the parking lot. The headlights of his truck are still in sight. When I can no longer see them, I release my breath.