Noah didn't try to stop me as I snatched up my purse and keys and ran for my car. He was probably too busy cleaning up his bloody nose. I didn't feel guilty about punching him. I shouldn't. He'd been right—he did have it coming.

He was lucky a punch to the nose was all he'd gotten from me.

I jumped in my car, threw on my seatbelt, and sped down the driveway.

I was going to be late. If traffic was on my side, it wouldn't be too bad. And if I could find a parking place.

My lips burned, swollen and hot. Why had I kissed him? He'd started it, but that was no excuse.

I'd kissed him back.

Why? I didn't want Noah. I didn't.

He'd broken my heart. Shattered me. He didn't deserve a second chance. I wasn't going to give him one.

Unbidden, an image of Noah the day we’d met popped into my mind. He'd been in my Introductory Media Computation class. I was a freshman. He was a sophomore. I grabbed a seat two down from his, got out my notebook, and realized I'd lost my pen somewhere in the rush between classes.

I’d turned to ask if he had one I could borrow, and those bittersweet chocolate eyes had me. Back then, his thick hair had been short, but not like today. Whoever was cutting his hair now, they knew what they were doing. It might be shorter than I liked, but it showed off his bone structure beautifully.

The day we'd met, he'd had one of those utilitarian haircuts that boys get when they don't know any better. He'd been gangly, too tall for a body that hadn't really filled out yet. He'd flushed a little when he lent me the pen, but he worked up the nerve to ask my name. When he complimented my Buffy T-shirt, my cheeks had turned pink to match his.

After class, he'd asked me to get a coffee together. I said yes.

We were together all the time after that. Noah was smart and funny, and he seemed to think that I was the most gorgeous, interesting creature on the planet.

I fell hard.

Our relationship went backward. I was already head over heels in love with him by the time he made it past first base. Neither of us had a whole lot of experience. I was a virgin, and so was Noah, though he turned bright red and stuttered a little when I got him to admit it.

By the time we finally had sex, I was sure Noah was the only man I'd ever love. He swore he felt the same.

You’d think the sex would've been bad, considering neither of us had any idea what we were doing. But Noah and I had always been good at talking, and we’d learned together. He was patient and a good listener. By the time we’d had a few months’ practice, sex with Noah was amazing. We both took classes that summer so we could stay on campus together, and I think we spent more time in bed than out of it.

Noah was my everything. My first love, my best friend. He was set to graduate a year ahead of me, and we’d both planned to go to grad school. Everything was good until Noah got an offer from Caltech that he couldn't turn down. A full ride to one of the most competitive master’s programs in the world.

We were so naïve, so certain everything would be fine with him across the country. As we’d both originally planned, I was set on the master’s program at Georgia Tech. I didn't have anything against moving to California, but not yet. Noah’s program at Caltech was only two years. He accepted, promising he'd be back as soon as it was done.

Instead, he developed a pioneering program to target rogue drones, dropped out of Caltech to start his own company, licensed the program to the military, and made a ton of money. He was on the cover of Wired, Fast Company, and a whole bunch of other magazines and newspapers.

By then, he'd gotten bad about returning my calls. He claimed he was working non-stop on a new version of his drone software, as well as expanding the company and licensing other, related software. Suddenly, he had employees and clients and so many other things more important than a girlfriend across the country.

When he'd no-showed my college graduation, I’d been so hurt I'd lost my temper.

We'd been fighting, off and on, for months. Mostly about his preoccupation with Endicott Technologies and his changing plans for the future. He kept pushing me to apply to Caltech, but the program I wanted at Georgia Tech was unique. There wasn’t anything at Caltech like it. I’d worked too hard to walk away from everything. California wasn't on my roadmap until I finished school.

The day of my college graduation finally arrived, and Noah's travel plans were still uncertain. He left me with the impression that he might show up. I spent the day with a pasted-on smile to appease my parents, craning my neck to look over the crowds for Noah.

He never made it.

Heartbroken, I’d sent him a single text.

I can't do this anymore. I think we’d both be happier apart.

I never heard anything back. Three weeks later, Noah was featured on a tech blog, the picture taken at a Silicon Valley release party. Noah wore skinny jeans and a tailored shirt. A blonde model was draped on his arm.

I'll admit it. I cried over that picture. That one, and the one after it, and the one after that. Noah moved on from me without a hitch in his step, replacing me with a series of interchangeable models, actresses, and other semi-famous women happy to be on the arm of Silicon Valley's newest tech billionaire.

For a while, Noah was riding high, and I was just the girl he left behind. Then, out of nowhere, an old friend came out of the woodwork to topple Noah from his throne. Phillip Martin, a guy we both knew from our undergrad classes, hit the media with the claim that Noah had stolen the code he’d used for Endicott Tech’s flagship software.

A lawsuit followed a few days later. Noah was on the covers of all the same magazines again, this time as the villain. Speculation ran rampant, everyone picking sides, fingers pointing at Noah as a thief and a liar. There were no more pictures of Noah escorting models and actresses. Now it was Noah, drunk at a club with a porn star. Noah fighting with a reporter. Noah walking out of a meeting, scowling at everyone.

I called him one night, right after I saw a picture of him online, his eye blackened from a fight at a bar. He’d looked so alone. So lost.

He’d answered right away, even sounded grateful for my call. For a few weeks, we’d talked. Not every day, and never for long. I’d started to hope we might get back together. My hope didn’t last long. One night, I called, and a woman’s voice sounded in the background.

“Do you have company?” I’d asked, trying not to jump to conclusions.

My heart sank at the guilt in his voice when he said, “Uh, kind of. She—”

“You have a date?” My voice had wobbled, my total lack of cool humiliating. We weren’t together. Noah had a right to date. I’d just thought . . . I’d thought a lot of things. Things that were only true for me.

“Can I call you back later?” Noah had asked. At least he’d had the grace to sound sheepish. Had he known what I was thinking? That I’d been hoping we were finding our way back to each other?

He did call me back. More than once. I didn’t answer.

I needed a clean break. I couldn’t be friends with Noah. The agony at hearing a woman’s voice in his apartment had shown me that. If we weren’t together, I was better off on my own. I tried to ignore the news reports as Noah settled out of court with Phillip Martin.

He’d moved on, and Endicott Technologies continued to pop up in the news cycle, but I ignored it all. Noah was out of my life for good.

If I hadn't had school, I would have fallen into a dark pit of ice cream and chick flicks and weepy nights home alone. I still had my share of those, but I'd gotten into the master’s program at Tech that I'd wanted and had hit the ground running. I was a Computer Science major and Music minor in undergrad, and my master’s program was a combination of the two disciplines, focused on ways to use music and programming together in STEM courses to ignite the imaginations of coders and artists alike.

It was fascinating and exciting, and I loved using our projects with real students, seeing their eyes light up, the way the kids into programming suddenly got the creativity possible in coding and watching the kids into music find new ways to compose using code.

I loved my master’s program almost as much as I'd loved Noah.

Now, I had neither. Though there was the tiniest of chances that I could get my foot back in the door at school if Oliver had managed to swing an exception.

The fates were smiling on me, at least when it came to parking spaces. I found one not too far from the CS building, maneuvered my car against the curb, and jumped out, only a few minutes late.

I raced down the street and up the stairs into the building, bypassing the elevator and taking the stairs to the third floor two at a time. I was gasping for breath when I knocked on Oliver's office door.

"Sorry I'm late," I said when he answered.

"That's all right, Ella, it's only a few minutes,” he said in a gentle tone that would have been reassuring if I hadn't been afraid of what it meant. Oliver wasn't usually gentle. Brusque, impatient, and mostly nice about it, but not particularly gentle with his students. He expected us to work our asses off and be the best.

He gestured to the seat opposite his desk and said, “Take a load off, Ella. It feels like I haven't seen you in months."

That was because he hadn't.

A year before, shortly after second semester had started, I'd received notice from the bursar's office that my tuition had not been paid. I’d been fortunate so far that my parents had covered a lot of my undergrad and master’s tuition, supplemented by a few small grants.

I'd worked through college, waiting tables and tutoring to make up the difference. I knew I'd paid my share of spring tuition, and I'd been able to get a small grant to cover another chunk, but my parents had agreed to foot the bill for the rest. I'd figured it hadn't been a big deal—maybe they just forgot to send in the check.

I went home for the weekend and discovered there was no mistake. A ‘For Sale’ sign sat in the yard of my childhood home. My mother's car was missing, and my father's had been traded in. Inside the house, everything of value was gone.

I don't know how they thought they would keep it a secret, but my father tearfully confessed that he’d lost his job over a year before and instead of telling anyone, had pretended to keep going to work while borrowing more and more money to finance their lifestyle.

He swore he hadn’t meant for it to get so out of control, that he'd been interviewing and had been sure he'd find something else. Until suddenly, it was too late, and everything was gone.

I managed to get a small loan to cover the gap for spring tuition. Since I'd already started and I couldn't get a refund, it seemed smarter to find a way to finish. I was still paying off that loan. It hadn’t seemed like much money at the time, but when every penny is going to rent and food, even a small loan is nearly impossible to pay off.

I hadn't enrolled again. I wouldn't. Not until I could pay my tuition upfront. Until Vance and Maggie had hired me, I'd been couch surfing in a very crowded apartment, waiting tables and trying to save for tuition to finish school. Between my share of the rent, the loan, and saving, things had been tight. Very tight.

I tried not to be angry at my parents. Their change in circumstance had been a lot rougher on them than it had been on me. My dad managed to find another job at half the salary he was used to. They'd gone from a nice suburban house to a tiny condo. My parents were doing the best they could, and every time they asked how I was, I smiled and told them I was fine.

I wasn't fine. I missed school painfully. Losing Noah was bad enough, but leaving school on top of it—I felt like a shell of myself most days. More than anything, I just wanted to get back to how things were. I wanted to finish school, get a job in my field, and move on with my life.

I was tired of being stuck in between, spinning my wheels while I saved money and waited for things to change.

"Ella, how have you been?" Oliver asked, again in that gentle tone that made me nervous.

I shrugged. "I've been okay. I think I told you I got a job as a nanny for Vance and Magnolia Winters. That's made things easier, and it comes with a place to live so I can save more money. And I've been doing some freelance work here and there for WGC. That helps too."

"WGC? Winters Gaming Corp.? That's not really your field of expertise. How'd you get that gig?" Oliver steepled his fingers under his chin and studied me as if I were a puzzle he wanted to solve. I'd seen him aim that look at students before. It was a little unnerving, but I knew he meant well.

"Do you know Emily Winslow and Jo Miller? They graduated last year." At Oliver's nod, I went on. "We're pretty good friends, and they're dating Holden and Tate Winters. I’ve gotten to know them, and when they heard what happened, they offered me some freelance work. I’m pretty sure they could get someone more qualified or someone in-house, but what they've been sending me isn't too advanced. If I had another option, I wouldn't take it, but . . ."

I trailed off. I knew, and both Holden and Tate knew, that I was not their best option for the programming work they'd been sending me. I was pretty sure they had employees in-house to do it, though they claimed they were continually short-staffed and under pressure to make deadlines.

I didn't push because I needed the money. They'd offered to lend me the cash for tuition. For that matter, so had Vance and Maggie. I'd wanted to take their offers so badly I could taste it. I wanted to be back in school. But I wasn't borrowing any more money.

I'd already learned how easy it was to take a loan and how hard it was to pay it back.

My field was fascinating and exciting, but it wasn't lucrative. Not unless I ended up developing some breakthrough app that sold like crazy. It could happen, but it wasn't likely. If I were lucky, I’d find a job in academia, which would be fine with me. It would be great. But it wouldn't necessarily leave me in a position to pay off loans.

I'd seen firsthand the devastation that debt could wreak. Every time I was tempted to take one of my friends’ offers, I thought about my mom, carefully decorating her one-bedroom condo with the few things she'd been able to salvage from her former life, pasting on a bright smile and acting like everything was okay when inside, I knew it was killing her.

I wasn't going there. I was not going to borrow a goddamned dime. I would wait, and I would save every penny until I could do it myself.

"That's good news, Ella. It sounds like you're making some headway on the tuition front," Oliver said encouragingly. "I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to having you back in class. It's not the same around here without you."

I didn't have to try hard to read between the lines. "But you can't let me volunteer in the program until I'm officially enrolled," I said, trying to keep my voice even.

Slowly, Oliver shook his head. He didn't try to hide the regret in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Ella. I tried. I'd love to have you back, if not as a student, then as a volunteer. But the department consensus was that any position on the project had to be held by a current student. The experience is too valuable to give away if it can't be applied to the degree. I can promise you that as soon as you can pay tuition, you have a place here. I don't want you to lose hope."

"I understand," I said, swallowing hard. I'd known it was a long shot. It meant a lot that Oliver had volunteered to ask. There were students who’d give anything to work on this project, and I wasn’t a student anymore.

"Have you looked into grants again? Maybe there are better loan options than there were last time?" Oliver asked encouragingly.

I shook my head. "None of the grants I'm eligible for would cover enough of the cost," I said. "And I'm not going to get another loan. I'm still paying off that last semester. I should be clear of it by next month, but if I borrow enough to pay for tuition, I'll be in a hole forever."

"I understand," Oliver said, coming to his feet and setting a hand on my shoulder briefly before turning to the door. I stood, too. I knew that he meant it. He knew what had happened with my parents, knew why I wouldn't get a loan.

"Thanks for trying, Oliver," I said, heading out the door.

"Anytime, Ella. Stay in touch. As soon as you think you'll be back, let me know."

"I will," I promised.

I ran down the stairs to the lobby of the building and pushed open the doors, the crisp November air bringing tears to my eyes. Maybe it wasn't the air. I'd known Oliver probably couldn't get me back in the program, even as a volunteer. I hadn't realized how much I'd been counting on it.

I strode down the block to my car, my head down. Sliding behind the wheel, I put my keys in the ignition but didn't turn them. I leaned forward, resting my forehead against the steering wheel, and cried.