Brady pulls up to my dorm, parks, and walks me to my room. Nothing is unusual about his behavior. I’m reluctant to leave him, not wanting us to separate. He tells me he’ll call me tonight, but he’s distracted now.

Once we passed the Ohio border, his mood shifted. He didn’t crack one joke and stared out the front window with his hand mindlessly rubbing my knee. I wish he’d let me in, allow me to help him.

Before he leaves, he kisses me and tells me how much he loves me. He’s given me no real reason to worry. If he’s cheating on me, he could win the Oscar for Best Actor.

After watching Brady’s back disappear down the hall, I open the door to my room, and Jessa isn’t there. She must still be at the boys’ house.

Curious questions ping in my head now that I’m alone. Where’s Brady going now? I can’t help but feel a little upset that he hasn’t shared his problems with me when I revealed everything to him.

Needing to work this out in my head, I figure I’ll head to the gym. Not to mention, if I’m going to be naked around Brady all the time, I’d better keep my body halfway decent.

On my way to the rec center, I notice Vodka Vince’s bench is vacant, and I wonder if he ever got a coat or if he stays somewhere during the winter. I arrive to the spin class with plenty of time to spare, so I adjust my bike and hop on. Slowly, I let my legs warm up for the workout they’ll soon endure. The class starts to fill up, and I’m relieved when Kara isn’t in attendance. The last thing I could handle would be her right now.

The instructor comes in. He’s a godlike male creature but way too drill sergeant-like for me. He hops on his bike, and his legs move a mile a minute while he spouts out facts about the bike and what route we’ll take. The door opens, and everyone in the room glances to a lady in her thirties. She hurries over to the bike next to me.

“Sorry, everyone,” she says as she puts her water bottle down, climbing onto the bike. “It’s been one of those days.”

It takes me a couple of seconds before I figure out that she’s talking to me.

“Kids have been crazy—family drama. You don’t know about that yet, but you will someday.” She smiles over at me. Her hair is up in a sloppy ponytail on top of her head. Her shorts and shirt are mismatched, as though it took every ounce of energy for her just to get here.

I wonder how she will complete the workout since she already appears exhausted.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure I will,” I respond. I smile her way.

“Let’s go. You two in the back, stop talking and start pedaling,” Mr. Drill Sergeant yells from the front of the class.

“Sorry, Chad!” the lady screams out to him over the music. “He only cares about our physical well-being. What about our emotional well-being? Sometimes, you just need to vent, ya know?” she continues to talk.

I’m torn on what to do.

“Anytime now, Professor O’Brien,” Chad jokes as he winks her way.

Apparently, they know each other.

“I’ll remember this in class on Tuesday.” She laughs.

For the rest of the class, this lady to my left entertains us with her quick wit and funny outbursts. She’s a spitfire, and I instantly want to befriend her. The class ends, and she says her good-bye to me, making some joke about how, one day, I’ll have to work my ass off to keep up that body. If she only knew.

I don’t bother with the locker room today. Instead, I throw Brady’s sweatshirt on and head home.

A surprise greets me when I walk up the hill. I spot the professor who was just spinning next to me, towering over Vodka Vince. They appear to be in a heated, one-sided argument. Vince seems unfazed by her words, and instead of responding, he just stares my way. She looks back and sees me, giving me a tight smile and a small wave of her hand, before she shakes her head and storms off.

Brady’s words to stay away ring in my ear. Our relationship is going so well, so the last thing I want to do is anger him, but Vince looks hopeful that I’ll come over. As I pass by him, I see Professor O’Brien speed off in her black SUV.

“Hey ya, Sadie,” he says.

I glance up, confused. “How do you know my name?” I hesitantly ask.

Fear rings that Brady was right.

“Grant. That’s a good boy, you know?”

I release a breath. “Yes, I know.”

“Have a seat. Let’s chat.” He pats the seat next to him.

“Thank you,” I accept, wondering what on earth we’re going to talk about.

“So, Grant says you don’t see him much anymore. That you got yourself a possessive boyfriend?” he questions, only making me feel angry toward Grant now.

“Unfortunately, I haven’t seen Grant.” I pause, debating on how much personal information I should tell him. “I do have a boyfriend, but I wouldn’t say he’s possessive…just protective.” I shrug my shoulders, curious as to why I’m even having this conversation.

“Protective is good; possessive is not,” he deadpans.

“Is Grant your good friend?” I cross my legs.

“I’ve known him his whole life,” he answers.

“Oh,” I say, surprised.

“Well, it was nice chatting with you, Sadie.” Vince ends the conversation, stands up, and walks down the hill.

“You, too, Vince,” I call out to him.

He turns around, as though shocked that I knew his name.

When I enter my dorm room, Jessa is back.

“So, tell me.” She sits up in her chair, her elbows on her knees.

“Absolutely amazing,” I sigh, falling into my chair.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you, Sadie. See what happens when you let it all out?” Her stature relaxes a little.

“I do. I’ve told Brady everything about Drayton. He knows about the guys, about Craig the loser, about Theo, and the fight. You were right. It feels good to have it off my chest,” I respond, hoping Brady feels the same someday and shares his secrets with me.

“Yeah, Brady looked completely relaxed when he came home,” she discloses. “Then, he left right away. I thought maybe he was coming over here.”

“Nope. I was working out,” I state, knowing he was doing something he didn’t want me to know about.

“Oh,” she sighs as she diverts her eyes to the television.

“I trust him, Jessa. It’s all right. We don’t have to be together every minute,” I say as I place my hand on her knee.

“Oh God, I know. I don’t think Brady is the cheating type,” she rapidly answers, making sure I don’t get the wrong impression.

There’s still sadness in her eyes though, and for the first time, I think she might know something I don’t, which only makes me worry more.

---

I’m studying Algebra when my phone chimes. “Hey, baby,” I answer.

“Sadie? It’s your mother.” A woman’s voice instead of my boyfriend’s comes over the phone.

“Sorry,” I stammer. “Hi, Mom.” I’m still on the fence about going home for Thanksgiving, reluctant to leave Brady.

“So, your flight is booked. You arrive Thursday morning at ten. Dad will meet you outside after you collect your baggage,” she instructs.

As much as I wish I could stay here, they would never understand if I didn’t come home.

“All right. See you then,” I agree, eager to hang up.

Hearing her breathing across the line, I wait for it.

“Sweetheart, how’s everything going? We haven’t talked to you much.”

“Fine. Everything is fine. I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“Okay, well, it’s just the four of us this year—me, you, Dad, and Grandma,” she informs me.

“Sounds good. See you then,” I say, attempting to end the conversation again.

“I love you, Sadie,” she rushes out.

“You, too, Mom.” I hang up the phone.

---

I lie in my bed and fiddle with my phone, waiting for it to ring. It never does.

Jessa crawls up to her bed, and we face each other. She sees it on my face—the disappointment of Brady not calling.

“I’m sure he just got tied up, Sadie. Maybe he has an exam or a paper due,” she says, trying to make me feel better.

“Thanks, Jessa. I told him I loved him this weekend,” I say, cringing at my confession.

“You did?” she exclaims, her voice rising a couple of octaves. “What did he say back?”

“He said he has wanted to say it for weeks but didn’t want to scare me.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured.” Her head seesaws back and forth.

“You really think he loves me, Jessa?” My insecurity comes back full force because he hasn’t called.

“Not a doubt in my mind, Sadie. That boy is head over heels in love with you. He just…needs to get his shit together.”

I’m unsure of what Jessa means. Brady’s always been the most put-together person.

My eyes droop before my phone dings.

I hem and haw on whether to call him or not.

Ultimately, I place my phone down, deciding not to call him. Lying on my back, I stare up at the popcorn ceiling and wonder how I’ll get him to divulge whatever he’s keeping from me.