Page 88 of Crossing the Line

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Page 88 of Crossing the Line

She huffs out a breath, briefly sending her black bangs flying into the air. “It’s not a bad thing, Claire. How else are we supposed to know what works and what doesn’t?”

I raise my eyebrows as I stare down at the pink roll of duct tape I’m turning in circles on the counter.

“Well?”

I was hoping she had gone back to work. “What?”

An exasperated sigh leaves her lips. “Did he work for you?”

I stare at her with furrowed brows. “You are being so weird about this.”

Seeming to give up on me, she walks over to what looks like a recently opened Amazon box with more tape in it. “No, you are!” She rummages around for whatever color she’s looking for. “I’ve been waiting years for this moment, Claire.” She gives me a pointed stare. “Years!” Going back to looking through the box, she adds, “Talking about this stuff has always been a one-way street because I’ve been the only one getting any, and it’s not like we were going to talk about being with Garret—because gross.” Holding out a roll of yellow in an accusatory way, she goes on to say, “And now you have dirt, so spill!”

I plop down on the barstool next to me. “Fine. It was great.”

“Great?”

“Great,” I say, and it’s almost painful to admit.

Violet’s eyes narrow. “What an asshole.”

77

Aiden

I’m on the damn train, and nobody smells like cat piss.

78

Claire

As happy as I am to have my entire closet full of clothes to choose from, I’m in no mood to dress up. I opt for jeans and an Imagine Dragons concert t-shirt from freshman year. As I’m walking toward the door, I throw my hair up in a messy bun. Violet has taken over our entire apartment with her duct tape and supplies, so I almost miss her sitting cross-legged in our family room as she compares color pallets.

“I’ll see you tonight!” I call out to her. Before closing the door, I catch her throwing a thumbs-up in the air.

Our apartment isn’t as close to campus as we’d like, but it’s what we could afford with our scrappy combined income. Grants, tutoring sessions, and Violet’s sporadic art sales have gotten us through the past three years. It hasn’t always been easy, but we’ve made it this far.

Pushing aside thoughts of my current financial situation, I take in my familiar scenery. It’s beautiful outside, and the temperature feels like a reward after being in the Florida heat for the past few days. I try to take the great weather as a sign that I’m exactly where I should be. Here, in New York, focusing on school.

Not Aiden Lewis.

School.

79

Aiden

Fuck this fucking train to fuck.

80

Claire

Being back in the classroom is exactly what I need. Taking diligent notes is a great way to not think about the things I shouldn’t be thinking about, and being around so many people serves as a good distraction, too.

My second class of the day has just ended, and I’m happy to report that during the past two lectures I had very few thoughts about Aiden.

“Claire!”




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