Austin let go of my hands. I’d messed up the moment. I’d probably do that a lot.

“Let’s go see what trouble everyone’s into,” he said. “Someone’s bound to have ordered cheap pizza, and then I can feed you.”

“Do you work?”

“No time for a job,” he said. “Engineering kills me. I’m just trying to get done before my loans overrun my earning potential.”

We resumed walking along the mall, past the engineering building. I could picture Gavin on his motorcycle, talking to Jenny. I hadn’t had a single free moment to call or text her and find out what they had discussed. Maybe she’d reneged on her deal and gone off with him. My belly burned.

“Still with us?” Austin asked.

Dang it. He deserved more than my scattered attention. “I am,” I said. “I may be more ditzy headed than you figured.”

He bumped his shoulder against mine. We were almost the same height. “I’d go for deep over ditzy.”

We left campus behind and wandered a few streets into the adjoining neighborhood, a mass of apartment complexes. “You live near campus?” he asked.

“Oh, no. I’m way out.”

“Did you bus in?”

“I have a car.”

“Hoity-toity, are we?” He turned us down a side street.

“I have a job. It helps.” And, of course, three years of school paid by scholarship. My debt would be minimal as long as I was careful.

We walked along a sidewalk to a row of townhouse condos that looked to be mostly rentals, judging by the scraggly lawns and ill-kept hedges, all signs of students who couldn’t care less about curb appeal.

The buildings looked identical to me, but Austin turned us in at one near the middle of the street. “See, not too tiny. We can probably find some little corner to ourselves.”

The wood steps were peeling and scarred. A tower of pizza boxes filled one side of the porch, awkwardly stacked in a way that couldn’t possibly stand on its own.

“The leaning tower of pizza,” Austin explained. “Impaled on a center stake. Our little student engineering joke.” He opened the door and stepped aside to let me through.

The smell of beer and stale bread accosted me as my eyes adjusted. We were approaching full dark now, and only a few small corner lamps lit the living room.

A girl sprawled on a ratty recliner, her face glowing from the light of her laptop. She didn’t look up. “That’s Daryl’s girl,” Austin said in my ear. “I’d introduce you but I can’t remember her name.”

To the left was another large room, wall to wall with sofas. In it, several guys sat around a television, playing a video game. “You want to meet them?” Austin asked. “Or save it for later?”

I suddenly wasn’t up for being friendly to a roomful of strangers. “Show me around first.”

We went straight back to the kitchen, cluttered with paper cups and more pizza boxes. “This is a good day,” he said. “Usually you can’t find the sink.” Off to one side was a dining room with a huge rough-hewn picnic table in it. “Seating for ten,” he said. “For all our grand occasions.”

“I’ll keep it in mind for my next formal banquet.”

He reached for my hand and squeezed. “You want to see my room? Ben might be there, so we’d have a chaperone.”

I swallowed. What if he wasn’t? Being alone with Austin didn’t feel right, not yet. But I was being silly. I was twenty-two and not exactly a virgin.

Austin sensed my hesitation. “Or we can sit here.” He pointed at the table.

“No, it’s fine. Show me your space.”

We crossed back into the kitchen and through a narrow hallway that led to a set of tightly turning stairs. “I’m on the second floor. All the bedrooms are upstairs.”

I followed him up. On the walls were posters of scientists, cheaply framed. Einstein with his shock of crazy hair. Madame Curie looking serious and smart.

“Door closed, no sock, looks like Ben’s there but not in any compromising positions.”

“Seriously? You use the sock method?”

He twisted the knob. “We do. Yes, we’re juvenile.” The door stuck a minute, then popped open. The smoke and smell hit me instantly.

“Hey, guys!” Austin said. “I brought a girl!”

“Bullshit!” someone said. “Did you lay a trap or something?”

Austin tried to pull me inside but my feet were rooted to the floor. Weed. They were all smoking marijuana. I began to back away, yanking my hand from his.

“Corabelle, you okay?” He looked inside. “Shit, guys, can you put those out?”

I couldn’t believe it. I thought all this time that fate was putting me here. That Austin would help. That Gavin was just a coincidence. That I’d be better.

I turned for the stairs. But no, it was worse. I could see it now. Things weren’t getting better. I was getting caught. Everything was catching up to me. The world wanted its punishment. I was going to pay again, all over again, and probably again and again and again throughout my whole life.

I started running, crashing down the stairs, knocking Einstein sideways, and hurtled back through the house. Austin was close behind, but when I crashed through the door and out onto the lawn, he called out. “Corabelle, stop! Please! I’m sorry! I didn’t know it would upset you! I should have checked first!”

My feet pounded the sidewalk in a full-on sprint. Hell was on my heels. I knew if I looked behind me, I would see it, a black cloud creeping up, like the way the ocean had bumped up against the lights of the city from the roof. My past was coming for me and this time there would be no way to escape it. 

I didn’t start to breathe again until my car pulled up to the apartment complex. There had been too many signs today. I always felt my life was like an intricate story, crafted so carefully that every moment had symbolism and every action carried the weight of a great and important truth. Today was foreshadowing. Disaster ahead. A tragic ending.

I already had that. What more could happen?

I unlocked my door, the blackness of the familiar room a comfort. Maybe I just needed a bath, a dark room, warm water, to float in silence until the world dissolved into nothingness.

I felt my way across the tiny living room, leaving my backpack on the sofa and discarding clothes along the way. The tiles bit into my knees as I knelt in front of the bathtub, reaching blindly for the knobs.

A car drove by outside and the muted headlights penetrated the block of bottled glass in the wall of the shower. The water spilled over my hands, cold and shocking. I pushed my hair back, a tangled mass after the crazy run.

When the temperature turned warm, I flipped the drain stopper and waited for the tub to fill. The fiberglass felt good against my throbbing temple. Austin would write me, ask me what happened. I didn’t know what I’d tell him. He probably thought I was some sort of anti-drug nut, a weed prude. He had no idea. No one had any idea.

I stood up and stepped into the water. My hair grew heavy as it soaked and I slid beneath the surface, getting good and drenched.

Not true. One person knew. Katie, a friend back home who gave me my first joint in high school. I was strung out about my SAT score. I’d gotten to be a National Merit Scholar based on my PSAT, but my regular score hadn’t come back as high. Early in my senior year, I had one chance to retake it, do better, and the long nights were killing me.

Gavin hadn’t cared about his score as long as he could get in. He knew he’d have to work through school, but I hoped to get scholarships and focus on studying.

Katie and I had been prepping together, both going for as close to a perfect score as we could get. With my emphasis on literature, though, my math wasn’t topping out.

I’d never done any sort of drug. My parents were straitlaced. Most of my friends were all serious students, not the sort to party on weekends with anything more than beer, if that. Gavin didn’t do it, although he knew guys who did. Our drug of choice had been sex.