Don’t Be in Love

23

Don’t Let Him Stay in Your System — Adelaide

“This can’t be real,” Jane uttered.

“It’s not possible!” Lottie gasped, looking over Jane’s shoulder.

Book Club found out about page twenty-six. Apparently, Dotty left it on the desk the night Dorian walked me home during Mia’s late shift.

Apparently .

Evelyn took the phone from Jane and put her reading glasses on. “This must be altered,” she swore.

“That scammy AI they keep talking about!” Cora realized.

Beatrice reached over her armrest and stole the phone from Evelyn.

“I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean but that boy’s hands are low .” Beatrice lowered her glasses.

“You’re sure these are from October? Maybe they’re old photos,” Cora hoped. It reminded me of what Dorian had said: You sure know nothing about a fake headline for someone working in marketing.

“Cora, he’s wearing the same clothes Addy saw him in that night,” Dotty deadpanned.

“I liked him,” Evelyn sighed.

“I still like him!” Iris raised her hand.

“Me too!” Lottie raised her hand too.

Dotty rolled her eyes.

“Time’s up!” I announced, pushing out of my seat and taking the magazine—back.

At least last time I only had to see a few photos. This time was hell.

Roughly twenty-five dark, blurry images of Dorian and Victoria outside of her apartment scattered in this one article. I could see the paint on his fingers from our night out.

The image turned over the contents in my stomach. Her hands in his hair. His hands on her waist. Her hands. His hands.

The same hands that were on my lower back last weekend on Halloween.

Even now, the frames of his and James’s palms were still nailed into my thighs.

Last weekend was an omen. A wakeup call. I was getting too close. Too involved.

The filing cabinet in my brain that took notes on everything about him had been shifting to a Mason jar, relocating to my chest. It was filling itself with colorful notes scribbled with words he liked to use and postcards on stories he told me and scraps of fabric from the clothes he wore the most. Jam packed with private things I shouldn’t know about him.

He was building. No longer just a single-layered person, but a scrapbook-stacked human whose habits I was memorizing.

These pictures were good for me. Tonight was good for me. Dorian not showing up for tutoring all week put me on edge, but it was probably for the best. James showing up to walk me home this week made me feel worse somehow.

Between thinking about Dorian and refreshing the Beverly Careers page every twenty minutes, this unresolvable anxious knot wouldn’t stop twisting in my chest.

“Maybe it’s because you turned him down!” Jane reasoned.

“Yes!” Lottie liked that idea. “Did you tell him you like him yet?”

“I do not like him!”

“Don’t act like we didn’t notice how smitten you were when he was saying how smart and beautiful you are,” Beatrice responded.

“He did not say beautiful.” He had said pretty . Lampshades were pretty for God’s sake.

“So you do remember!” Beatrice pointed her knitting needle at me.

We were currently knitting socks. Evelyn just found out she’d be a grandmother and believed the baby would grow up with a poor immune system if they didn’t have enough socks.

For reference, I had no idea how to knit, but I was trying like my life depended on it. I didn’t half-ass a craft.

“That means nothing, Beatrice.” I pointed back at her, droopy loops of yarn hanging off my needle.

“Do you remember Reginald?” Dotty spoke up.

“How could I forget? He was in our flat for a month,” Iris complained.

“The American that had a boat?” Lottie asked.

“And a missing a tooth?” Jane shivered.

Dotty nodded. “Besides the point. I met him in a pub one night years ago. We were having his great conversation about a band we both saw in the nineties. He was so handsome. Smelled like popcorn and scotch. Then the fire alarm went off and everyone funneled out into the street, and I lost him. Thought about him for weeks after. Never thought about a fella so much before. Don’t you think I see him at the corner shop down the street a month later? He put away everything in his hands and took me out on a date. Never cared about him since.”

“What are you getting at, Dotty?” Evelyn asked.

“Shouldn’t have asked,” Iris shook her head.

Dotty looked at me. “It sounds like he’s still in your system. You know what they say about that?”

“Ah yes. You need to start a new hobby,” Cora nodded.

“How did you even end up in this group?” A sock landed on Cora’s head.

Nine days into November. Every window in the university had no choice but to welcome the autumnal colors. We were surrounded by acres of land that longed to be let in. The tips of trees surrounding the property were kissed by the sun, granted orange and yellow colors. The colors bounced off the walls in the university.

The leather of my loafers skimmed the carpet as I walked into the library Monday morning before Sylvie’s class. With midterms over, it was empty. Even the librarians’ eyes were half closed when I walked in.

But hiding in here gave me an excuse to 1) avoid possibly bumping into Dorian before our class, and 2) finally having the chance to get some test shots of these watches for the content calendar.

Dropping my textbooks on the table in the furthest corner, I unlatched the clasp and set it over the leather of my bag, positioning my camera. A little to the left. A little to the right. Capture the hardwood in the back. Right there should be—

“Can you believe he’s with her again?” a girl asked.

My phone immediately hit my bag. I rushed to pick it up, as if it would erase the noise.

I turned but didn’t see anyone. Completely empty.

“It’s so boring. We practically have a Kennedy on campus and he’s not even single,” another girl spoke up.

My heart thumped. Dorian .

Their voices were coming from straight ahead. Like they were speaking to me.

The studying nooks .

The nooks were hidden behind the wooden panels to the right in the wall. I put my phone down and inched forward towards the first nook.

The door was wide open. No one inside. Just extra books stacked high, filling the single bench and legroom.

“About that …” a different girl commented, and it was close . Hair-raisingly close. It pushed my heart into my throat.

Logically, I jumped into the empty nook, closing the door slowly to ease the squeak, and hid. I didn’t even have to push my ear to the wall to hear them. They were in the spot beside mine.

A pause passed. No one spoke. Did they hear me? I leaned my head against the wall.

Suddenly, there was a shadow under the door. Two shoes.

Shit, shit, shit . No hidden doors to escape out of, no corners to crouch in, no air ducts to jump in.

I had nowhere to hide, but the knob turned anyway.