I glance over at Riley, who's furiously scribbling notes, her hand moving across the page with mechanical precision. She hasn't looked up once since the lecture began.
"Jesus," I whisper, leaning slightly toward her. "Is it really okay to take notes about this?"
Riley's hand freezes mid-sentence. She turns to me with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Of course it is, silly. It's just economics."
"Abortion isn't just a social or political issue," Professor Harmon continues, "it's an economic one with far-reaching implications for labor markets, healthcare systems, and…"
The lecture hall door swings open with a soft creak that somehow cuts through Professor Harmon's authoritative voice. My head turns automatically toward the sound, a reflex action, nothing more.
And there she is.
Liz Porter, her blonde hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, glasses perched perfectly on her nose, wearing a blue cardigan.
Time slows to a crawl.
She mouths a silent "sorry" to Professor Harmon, who acknowledges her with a curt nod before continuing. Liz scans the room for an empty seat, her hazel eyes sweeping across the faces until our eyes meet.
There's a brief awkward recognition. No warmth. Just the impersonal glance you'd give a stranger before moving on.
My throat closes up as she walks past our row, not even pausing. She settles three rows ahead, pulling out her laptop.
"Ben?" Riley whispers, her voice sounding distant through the rushing in my ears. "Are you okay?"
I can't answer. Can't tear my eyes away from the back of Liz's head. From the familiar way, she tucks that stubborn strand of hair behind her ear when she's concentrating. The slight tilt of her head as she types.
"You know her?" Riley presses, leaning closer.
"Yeah," I manage to say, my voice a hoarse whisper. "I used to."
Memories crash over me like waves. Liz, at six years old, missing her front teeth, holding out a dandelion she'd picked for me. Liz at thirteen, nervously taking my hand for the first time as we walked home from school. Liz at seventeen, laughing as we slow-danced at prom. Liz, at twenty, curled against me on my dorm room bed, planning our future together.
A future that no longer exists.
I didn't realize I was crying until I felt wetness on my cheeks. I wipe at them hastily, but more tears come, silent and unstoppable.
"Hey," Riley says, her hand landing on my arm with surprising weight. "Let's get out of here."
I nod mutely, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. We gather our things as quietly as possible, slipping out the back door of the lecture hall. I don't look back at Liz. I can't.
In the empty hallway, I lean against the wall, taking deep breaths that do nothing to ease the crushing pressure in my chest.
"I'm sorry," I choke out, trying to compose myself. "It's just seeing her like that... it's hard."
I start breathing heavily, my chest tightening as anxiety claws its way up my throat. "She... she wasn't in that class last week. I remember specifically looking for her."
Riley shrugs, her hand moving to rub my shoulder in slow, comforting circles. "Add/drop just ended today. She must have added in at the last second."
There's something about the way her fingers press into my muscles, firm yet yielding, almost like they're molding to the contours of my body.
"Maybe," I feel overwhelmed, dizzy with confusion and grief.
"You poor thing," Riley mutters. "She really hurt you, didn't she?"
Her fingers work deeper into my shoulder, and I feel myself leaning into her touch despite my unease. There's something familiar about it, comforting yet unsettling.
"It's complicated," I manage to say.
Riley's eyes meet mine. Her smile widens just a fraction too much.
"Why don't we go somewhere quiet?" she suggests, her hand sliding down to take mine. Her skin feels oddly cool against my palm. "You can tell me all about it."
As she tugs me down an empty hallway, a horrible suspicion begins to form in my mind. The way she moves, the subtle shifts in her voice.
"Amy?" I whisper, the name barely audible.
Riley freezes mid-step, her back stiffening. For a moment, neither of us moves. Then, slowly, she turns to face me, her expression carefully neutral.
"Your girlfriend?" she asks, her head tilting at an angle that seems just slightly wrong for her neck. "Did you just see her?"
I study her face, looking for any sign, any confirmation of my suspicion. But all I see is Riley, freckled nose, red hair, brown eyes filled with concern.
"Sorry," I mutter, shaking my head. "I'm just... messed up right now."
Riley's expression softens, and she reaches up to touch my cheek. "It's okay, Ben. I understand."
I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. "I think I'm gonna head back home. I don't think I'm ready for classes after all."
Riley's expression shifts to concern, her eyebrows pulling together. "You look like a wreck, Ben. Let me at least get you something to eat first."
I shake my head, backing away slightly. "It's fine. I'll just get food when I'm home."
"Then I'll walk you home," she insists, stepping closer. "You seem too upset to be alone right now."
Something about her eagerness makes me uneasy. I remember Amy's possessiveness at Applebee's, how she reacted to Riley approaching our table. The last thing I need is for Amy to get the wrong idea and do something... unpredictable.
"Look, Riley," I say carefully, "I'm not sure Amy will be happy if she sees me going home with another girl."
Riley's expression freezes for a split second, something calculating flickering behind her eyes before her face softens into understanding. "You're worried about your girlfriend getting jealous?"
"Yeah," I admit, rubbing the back of my neck. "She's kind of... intense about that sort of thing."
Riley laughs, the sound oddly musical. "That's adorable. You're afraid she'll think we're doing something inappropriate."
"It's not funny," I say, feeling defensive. "I just don't want her targeting you or something."
Riley's eyes narrow slightly, her smile turning predatory. "Oh, Ben. You have no idea how cute you are when you're being protective."
"Don't worry," Riley says with a strange little smile. "I'm not scared of Amy."
"Fine," I sigh, too exhausted to fight. "You can walk me home."
We leave the building side by side, neither of us speaking as we cross the campus quad. The silence stretches between us, but it's not uncomfortable. Riley seems content to let me brood, occasionally glancing at me with an expression I can't quite read.
My mind keeps circling back to Liz. Seeing her there, so close yet completely out of reach, reopened wounds I thought were starting to heal. Each step feels mechanical as memories flood through me.
I remember our first real date in seventh grade. Her mom drove us to the movies. We shared a tub of popcorn during some forgettable superhero film. I remember our first kiss behind the bleachers during a football game, both of us laughing nervously afterward. I remember countless study sessions that turned into make-out sessions, late-night phone calls, secret notes passed in class.
I remember the way Liz would curl up against me during thunderstorms, how she always knew exactly what to say when I was down. It wasn't like those relationships where people pretend to hate each other at first and then grow to love each other. From day one, being with Liz was like hanging out with my best friend who I also happened to be madly in love with because thats what she was to me.
"You're really hung up on her, aren't you?" Riley asks softly beside me.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. By the time we reach my apartment building, I'm emotionally drained, a hollow shell just going through the motions.
Riley follows me up the stairs, her footsteps oddly silent behind me. I fumble with my keys, hands shaking slightly as I unlock the door.
"Thanks, Riley," I say, turning to face her.
Riley's face suddenly crumples with concern. "Ben, are you sure you're okay? You look really pale." She steps closer, peering at me with those brown eyes that somehow seem different than they did earlier today. "Maybe I should come in? Just to make sure you're alright?"
I hesitate, hand on the doorknob. "No, I think I'm just going to wait for Amy. She's been a lot of help lately."
At the mention of Amy's name, Riley's expression shifts subtly, settling into warm concern. "That's a good idea," she says with a gentle smile. "Having someone who cares about you nearby is important right now."
"Thanks again for walking me home," I say, suddenly eager to be alone.
"Of course." She takes a step back, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. "I'll check on you tomorrow in class, okay? Take care of yourself, Ben."
I nod and slip inside, closing the door quickly. As soon as it clicks shut, I lean against it, exhaling heavily. The apartment is empty and quiet, exactly how I left it this morning. I drop my backpack on the floor and make my way to the couch, collapsing onto it face-first.
The apartment walls seem to close in around me, the silence deafening. I can't hold it together anymore. Everything crashes down at once, Liz's blank stare, this bizarre new reality, being trapped with a possessive slime creature who's threatened to absorb me if I try to escape through death.
I put my face in my hands and start to cry. The tears come hot and fast, my shoulders shaking with each sob.
The door opens with a soft click. I don't even look up. There's only one person it could even be.
"Darling, what happened?" Amy's voice is honey-sweet with concern, though there's that predatory edge underneath that never quite disappears.
I glance up through tear-blurred vision. She doesn't seem surprised to find me crying, like she already knew. Her smile is loving but with that hint of satisfaction, like a hunter who's cornered their prey.
"I saw Liz today," I choke out, wiping my face with my sleeve. "She's in my Econ class now. She wasn't before, but now she is, and I... I couldn't handle it."
Amy glides toward me, her movements unnaturally fluid as she kneels before me. Her cool hands cup my face, thumbs wiping away tears with gentle precision.
"Poor baby," she coos, her purple eyes tracking each tear like it's precious. "That must have been so hard for you."
She pulls me into an embrace. I feel her inhale deeply against my neck like she's savoring the scent of my distress.
"I'm here for you, Darling."