I bawl my eyes out in the back of that cab, big ugly tears that have the driver staring at me though the rearview mirror until I lie down on the seat so he can’t see me anymore. I'm tired. When did my life become so derailed? I'm graduating this spring with an honors degree from an Ivy League college. I am not a trophy fuck.

"Which building, miss?" the cabbie asks, turning onto Spruce.

I sit up and wipe my face with my hand. "Jacobsen, ahead on the left." I slide my credit card through the card scanner attached to the Plexiglas window separating the driver from the back seat.

I move as fast as I can on heels to the front door of Jacobsen in my short sleeveless dress, chilled instantly in just a few steps. Does this classify as a walk of shame if it's still evening? I feel conspicuous dressed like this surrounded by a sea of jeans, Uggs and down-filled jackets. My heels clicking across the lobby floor sound like gunshots to my ears. I can't wait to get to my room and replace them with comfort socks and crawl into bed.

I'm about to jab the elevator button when I catch something from the corner of my eye. Mike. He's on one of the sofas in the lobby charming a girl I know from the building. I see red. There are plenty of girls on this campus, plenty of dorms other than mine where Mike can troll for gullible girls. I can't help them all, but I can help this one.

I stomp over to the sofa intent on interrupting. "Saylor," I call out, getting the girl's attention. She's a sophomore. I've tutored her in freshman accounting.

She looks up, surprise crossing her face before being replaced with concern. I'm not sure if the concern is for me or her, since I'm a disheveled mess with mascara streaked down my face.

"Sophie, are you okay?" Saylor pushes away from Mike and scoots to the edge of the sofa closer to me.

"I'm fine," I reply, glaring at Mike. "Are you with him?"

"Oh my God, are you two together?" Saylor's head goes back and forth between us. "I thought you were available," she says to Mike.

"I am, baby," Mike replies and tries to catch Saylor's hand. "Don't listen to her. We hung out months ago, that's it."

"That's it?" I shriek, then lower my voice and address Saylor. "Mike likes to video himself having sex with different girls.” I pause. “And he has a very large collection."

A look of shock flashes across Mike's face, as if he can't believe what's coming out of my mouth. Then he turns on the charm. "Saylor, baby, don't listen to her. She's upset because I dumped her."

My jaw drops. "Should I call Paige down here? Or maybe I should just take a survey on campus?"

Saylor stands up. "Thanks, Sophie," she says, then turns to Mike. "Sorry, you're not worth this kind of drama. And I believe Sophie over you anyway. Later."

Mike turns to me as Saylor takes off with rage in his eyes. "You bitch."

"Grow up," I retort and leave him to fume by himself.

I pass the elevators for the stairs. I’d rather jog up stairs in these heels than spend another minute in the lobby with Mike. I hope that Jean is out. I want to sulk in peace and quiet. I shove open the stairwell door and start jogging up the steps, adrenaline from my confrontation with Mike fueling me. I hear the stairwell door swing open again as I’m rounding the third floor landing and look down to see Mike taking the stairs two at a time.

“Go away, Mike!” I shout behind me and increase my pace.

“I just want you to listen to me, Sophie.”

“I don’t think so!” My heart is racing so fast I'm afraid I'm going to black out. The stairwells are not used that often and I really do not want to be alone with him. I contemplate exiting onto a lower floor in the hopes of not being stuck alone with Mike, but before I can, I trip over my heels and then I'm falling.