As I finished, the last handful of people left and the doors shut behind them with an ominous click. Suddenly, we were the only two left standing in the empty lecture hall. Alone in the beige-walled prison under fluorescent lighting. The literal last place I wanted to be.

“Why are you being so hostile?” He threw his arms out, palms up. “Sophie doesn’t have a problem with you.”

What had I ever seen in him? He was delusional, self-centered, entitled.

“Are you kidding me? Why would she? I never did anything to her.” I shook my head, pushing my hair out of my face. “You didn’t even miss a beat.”

Luke’s square jaw clenched, and he took a step closer, fists balled. It might have been intimidating, if not for the fact that we were nearly the same size. And even though he was an asshole, I wasn’t scared of him in the physical sense.

The only damage he had ever inflicted on me was emotional.

“Like you’re one to talk.” His voice took on a bitter edge. “Carter? What the hell is that about?”

“What do you care?” I jutted my chin.

“He’s…he’s not a good guy,” Luke spluttered, a red flush flooding his face. He was easy to rile up, which made him the perfect target for Chase.

“And yet, still better than you.”

“He’s going to—”

“Hurt me?” I smirked. “After putting up with you, I think I can take care of myself.” I turned on my heel and pushed open the heavy swinging doors, letting them close behind me with a bang.

Unfortunately, Luke wasn’t good at letting things go. I’d experienced that firsthand many times. Wednesdays were going to be the equivalent of Groundhog Day combined with Friday the 13th. An endless loop of unpleasantry with him.

Maybe the W on my transcript would be worth burning those tuition credits on after all.

I headed through the glass-roofed atrium toward the library. My phone chimed, and I was greeted by an equally irritating text from my brother, who’d apparently lost his mind.

Derek: You can’t do this, B.

Bailey: What?

Derek: Date Carter. It’s crazy.

Bailey: I didn’t ask for your permission.

Derek: We have to talk. Can you do coffee?

Bailey: To talk about Carter? No.

Derek: Not just that.

Bailey: I’m pretty booked this month.

Students passed by me, chattering as I stood outside the library entrance, glaring at my phone. I wasn’t even dating the guy, and I was being forced to defend myself. Was this 1950? Did I need a chaperone or something? And was Luke getting grief about Sophie? Of course not. My life was the only one under the microscope.

It was infuriating. I was simultaneously being scrutinized and ostracized.

* * *