The following day, I have another speech in public speaking class. I was planning on getting up early and practicing it before class, but I end up sleeping until lunch. I want to stay in bed all day. But I can’t skip it; it’s a huge portion of my grade. When my hands start to shake looking down at the paper with my script, I go to the kitchen and force myself to down two beers. They taste disgusting first thing in the morning. This worked last time. It has to work this time.

Walking over to class, I hope that I don’t run into Tristan. He has class in this area and I just can’t see him now. Not before I get this speech over with. When Professor Milner asks for volunteers, I raise my hand.

Walking to the front of the class, I feel like I’m going to throw up. But not because of my nerves, but the alcohol. I take a deep breath. You can do this, I say to myself. Thirty sets of bored eyes look up at the podium. They don’t care what you have to say. Don’t think. Just start talking. I unfold my speech. This speech is about gratefulness. We’re supposed to thank someone for helping us do something important.

“Thank you for having me,” I start. “I want to take a moment to thank my mother and father for…”

I stare at the paper. The words are there in black and white. All I have to do is say them out loud. But for some reason, I can’t. They don’t make any sense. I have an overwhelming urge to thank someone else.

“No, actually, I don’t want to thank my mother and father. I’d like to take this time to thank my boyfriend, Tristan. Thank you, Tristan, for never being there for me. Thank you for wasting two years of my life in high school and then breaking up with me a couple of weeks before college. Thank you for ‘accidentally’ becoming my roommate and confusing me with all of your crap last semester and tricking me into thinking that you’ve changed. And most of all, thank you for this semester. Thank you for promising to help me with my speeches and leaving me high and dry. And thank you for pretending that you have a lot of important work to do when in reality you’re just hanging out with that girl that looks a lot like Kate Middleton, from your office. And, of course, thank you for mentioning how hot she actually is before I show up at the bar to spy on you. That was really the cherry on top. That made me feel a lot better watching you two making out. But most of all, thank you for doing all of that now, before I wasted even more of my life on you. You fucking asshole!”

Shit. What did I just say?

I look up at the class. Thirty pairs of hands start to clap and cheer. Oh my God! I nod, hang my head, and make my way back to my chair.

At least I didn’t freeze. No, the words just came out. I couldn’t make them stop. But I definitely shouldn’t have cursed!

After class ends, I try to make my way outside, past the professor, without him noticing. No such luck.

“Alice Summers. May I talk to you, please?” he asks.

“I really have to go,” I say.

“It will just take a moment.”

I take a deep breath and turn to face him.

“I’m assuming that was not the speech that you had prepared earlier,” he says. I nod. “And I’m assuming that you know that it’s illegal to come to class drunk?” he says.

“I’m not drunk.”

“Intoxicated, then. Either way, you can get expelled for this.”

“Expelled?”

My head starts to buzz. My eyes come in and out of focus. Oh my God. What did I just do?

“I’m so sorry, Professor Milner. It will never happen again. I was just having a really bad night.”

“Yes, I know that,” he says with a little smile. “I heard all about it in your speech.”

He’s mocking me. I shake my head. Look down at the floor. I don’t know what to do.

“I’m going to have to fail you on this assignment,” he says.

I’m going to get kicked out of school. What am I going to do?

“But,” he says, giving me hope. I look up at him. “But I won’t report this incident to the Dean of Students if you promise to go to see an alcohol and drug abuse counselor.”

“But I don’t have an alcohol problem. I hardly ever drink,” I say.

“You’re drunk in my classroom. That’s enough for me to know that something is wrong.”

“Okay,” I say, dropping my shoulders.

“You have to see this counselor every week for the rest of the semester. Starting this week,” he says. “If you miss a meeting, I’ll have no choice but report your behavior to the Dean of Students.”

“The rest of the semester?”

Professor Milner ignores me. He writes something on a piece of paper and hands it to me.

“The counselor’s name is Dr. Greyson. She’s very nice. Here’s her office number. I’ll let her know to expect your call.”

The buzz from the alcohol starts to wear off by the time I get home. Instead, it’s replaced with a blistering headache. And, as if the day wasn’t completely shitty already, it also starts to rain. And I get completely soaked walking back to the dorm.

I put on a fresh pot of coffee as soon as I get in. After I change out of my wet clothes, I go back out to the kitchen and see Tristan pouring himself a cup.

“That’s my coffee,” I say.

“I think there’s enough for two,” he says with a smile.

“I don’t care. I’m going to drink two cups myself. You have to make your own.”

“Okay, jeez, what’s wrong with you?” he says, pushing the cup toward me.

I shake my head. The Advil hasn’t kicked in yet. It hurts to talk.

“I saw you,” I say after I finish one cup of coffee. And start on another.

He stares at me as if he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

“Yesterday, at the Martini.”

“What…what were you doing there?” he asks.

I look him straight in the eyes. They twinkle in the light. Look as beautiful as always. But I hate them now.

“I was talking to Juliet about how I don’t see you anymore and she suggested that we go spy on you,” I say. “Who is she?”

“Nobody,” he shrugs.

“Didn’t look like nobody. You two looked really cozy together.”

“Alice, she’s nobody. Just Kathryn. I told you about her. She works with me.”

“I thought you all go there together? As a group.”

“Well, yesterday, everyone suddenly cancelled,” he says.

“How convenient,” I say sarcastically.

“Listen, nothing happened,” Tristan says. He puts his arm on my shoulder. I shrug him off.

“Don’t touch me,” I say. “And how can you say nothing happened. You two were laughing the whole time. She put her hand on your leg. And then you kissed. I saw you.”

He shakes his head.

“And I pushed her away. Immediately. I don’t like her that way. I love you.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” I say.

“I know that she likes me. But she’s my colleague. I want to be nice. But she also knows about you.”

I shake my head. This conversation isn’t really going as I had planned.

“I just hate being this way with you, Tristan. I hate that you’re gone all the time and now I’m becoming some sort of jealous, crazy girlfriend. This isn’t who I am.”

“I know.” He nods. “I know that I work too long. And I should not go out with everyone so much. But there’s this whole party atmosphere there. It’s hard to explain.”

I shrug. I understand. But I don’t really hear an apology. At least, not one that I believe. Just a lot of excuses.