I finally roll over when the ringing continues. Elle’s the only one who has no qualms about calling me in the middle of the night or this case, the wee hours of the morning. Given my earlier conversation with Quinn, I know why she’s calling. I’m hesitant to pick up the phone, afraid of what she might say to me on the other end. With Elle, I can never be too sure.
Still, I press the button to open our line of communication because I’d hate myself if I didn’t. “Are you hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Pride doesn’t count, Elle.”
“You’re supposed to have my back, Ben.”
I brush my hand over my face and sigh. “I do, and I always will, but I happen to agree with your family. You’ve changed.”
“Death does that to someone.”
“No one died. Peyton is alive and well, and likely sitting in some class right now oblivious to your meltdown.”
“That’s rude.”
“It’s nearly four in the morning. I’m allowed to be a bit discourteous.”
“Do you want me to let you go?”
Yes. “Never, Elle. You know I’ll always be here for you.”
“Why is life so hard, Ben?”
With no choice, I sit up and groan. My back presses into the hardwood of my headboard at an awkward angle. I quickly adjust, adding a pillow behind my back and get comfortable. “Life is what we make it, Elle. Right now, you’re struggling emotionally, and the coping mechanisms you’ve chosen aren’t healthy.”
“You sound like Quinn. I want you to sound like Ben, my best friend.”
I sigh. “I am your best friend, but I’m worried about you.”
“Do you worry when you’re with me?”
“I do, Elle. Every moment.”
She sniffles and I want nothing more than to comfort her, but Quinn’s right. We have to stand our ground and let her know she can’t continue the way she is.
* * *
I never thought I’d live in California, but here I am, following the girl of my dreams. I suppose it’s not all bad considering my brother moved here shortly after I started at UCLA and had given me a place to escape my reality.
For the ten, eleventh or maybe it’s the twelfth time I’ve yawned during class, garnering the attention of my professor. Admittedly, I’m not the only one who can’t seem to stay awake during his lecture, but it seems I’m the one he’s chosen to send death glares too. Had I known he would be here today instead of his assistant, I would’ve taken a sleeping aid or gone to bed early enough to be alert. The likelihood I would’ve done this is slim. I had to agonize over Elle all night, and I could’ve easily ignored her call, but the truth is, I never will.
She’s my weakness.
My demise.
My professor moves to his podium signaling the end of his lecture and class. I start to gather my things as another yawn strikes. This time it’s long and drawn out and as much as I try to hide it, my professor’s eyes land on mine. Great.
“Mr. Miller, if you could please meet me in my office.” He looks directly at me, so there’s no mistaking it’s me he wants to see, even though I look at the other students. Most are packing up their belongings, and only a few are looking at me. Their expressions tell me everything I need to know. I’m busted. For what, I don’t know, but it seems I’ve done something to upset my teacher.
Like a child being scolded, I walk as slowly as possible down the hall of the building until I reach Professor Jacobs’ door. I knock twice and wait for him to tell me to enter. His voice is loud as he beckons me in. My palms are sweaty, making it a bit tricky to turn the doorknob. It takes me a few tries before it finally opens.
I clear my throat when I enter. It’s ridiculous because he already knows I’m here, but at least I’m not yawning. Being here makes me wonder if he wants to know whether his lecture was boring or if I’m not prepared for his class. Unfortunately, neither question has a positive answer.
“Mr. Miller, do you know why I called you here?” Clearly not, since I'm freaking out on the inside. If I did, I imagine I’d walk in with more confidence instead of preparing myself for a butt chewing.
“No, sir.” Other than the fact I almost fell asleep in your class and had to fight to stay awake.