Last Will and Testament

by Dahlia Adler

  She shrugs. “Won’t make me feel worse.”

  I’ve wondered a few times over the past couple of months whether I’m a terrible human being. Now I know I'm clearly not, because this is what it looks like when someone really, truly sucks at life.

  “Please tell me that you of all people are not actually bringing a baby into this world,” I mutter, keeping an eye on the students walking past, hoping to spot someone in my Russian class who’ll grab me away from this conversation.

  She laughs. “You’re kidding, right? Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I’m not. So you can try and spread my little secret around, but after next weekend, it’s just gonna be a lie anyway.”

  “Jesus, Sophie. If you’re not even having it then why is this so fucking important to you?”

  “Because I hate you,” she says as coolly as if she’d just informed me she thinks cilantro tastes like soap. “And yet you’re still here, so I take that to mean it’s time I pay Professor Ozgur a visit, correct?”

  “Burn in hell,” I spit as kids behind me start dashing in, letting me know I’m about to be late. “I’m not responding to this stupid blackmail shit, and I’m glad you’re not having this baby—you would’ve been a really fucking terrible mother. You have no idea what it’s like to care about people.”

  “And you do?” she counters, eyebrows raised.

  I do now, I think, but she doesn’t deserve my response, doesn’t deserve my attention, doesn’t even deserve to make me late.

  All I have is the fervent hope that she’s bluffing, and sometime in the next hour and fifteen minutes, I’ll figure out exactly what to do if I’m wrong.

  • • •

  I may as well have skipped Russian for all that I’m able to focus on poetry by Anna Akhmatova. All I can think about is Sophie out there in the world, planning my demise, and poor Connor, who knows nothing about it. And my brothers—oh, my brothers—who are probably going to get caught in some insane crossfire just because their sister’s worst enemy is borderline deranged.

  The second the bell rings, I bolt out of my seat, pulling my phone out of my bag with the intent to call Connor and have the conversation I should’ve forced last night. But then I see nine missed calls, from a combination of Cait and Frankie, neither of whom ever call when a text will do.

  This cannot be good.

  I do an about-face and head toward the dorm instead of my apartment, calling Cait back as I go. She answers on the first ring, and immediately puts me on speaker. “Where the hell have you been?” she demands.

  “I was in class! What the hell happened?”

  “In class?” Frankie sounds skeptical. “On a Friday?”

  “Believe it or not, I was supposed to be going to Russian on Fridays in September, too,” I say wryly. “Now, please tell me there’s not an actual emergency.”

  “Depends on your definition,” says Cait. “I assume your brothers are fine, but—”

  “It’s out there,” Frankie jumps in. “You and Connor.”

  “She posted a picture of you guys,” Cait adds. “Not…doing anything. But still. It looks bad.”

  My stomach bottoms out and I glance around; there are definitely people staring at me, staring at their phones, laughing. I speed up, practically running to the dorm. “Do I even want to know the caption?”

  “Definitely not,” says Cait, at the same time Frankie says, “Beware of Pedophile.”

  Rage, burning and infinite, works its way up from my insides until it’s clawing at my throat, begging to be released in a scream that’ll bring down the sky. Thankfully, I reach the dorm just then, and use my pent-up aggression to throw open the door, swipe my ID so hard I almost give the scanner a paper cut, and storm to the room.

  “What the fuck?” I demand, slamming the door behind me. “I saw her an hour ago!”

  Cait and Frankie come rushing out of my old room, eyes wide, arms open. “Oh, honey,” says Frankie, crushing me against her and kissing the top of my head even though she’s two inches shorter than me. “I’m so sorry.”

  I can feel Cait nearly exploding with the urge to say “I told you so,” and I refuse to give her the satisfaction.

  “He doesn’t deserve this,” I say, literally shaking with anger. “He didn’t fucking do anything to her. Why would she do this to him?”

  Neither of them answers, not that I really thought they’d have any insider info.

  “There’s no way he knows about this yet,” I realize out loud. “I need to get over there. I need to tell him—”

  “No,” they say simultaneously, shoving me onto the couch. “Right now, Sophie has zero real evidence,” says Cait. “She’s just using the power of suggestion and a convenient shot she must’ve gotten after one of your tutoring sessions. You show up at Connor’s office now, or, worse, his dorm, and you’re just proving she’s telling the truth. You need to give him some space. Find another way.”

  “I can’t tell him shit like this over the phone,” I protest. I look to Frankie for help, but she’s nodding along with Cait. Then she glances at her watch.

  “Shit, I have to get to the studio. But Cait’s right. Sit tight, Lizzie B.” She drops a kiss on my forehead, then grabs her flaming purple coat and faux fur earmuffs. “I’ll call you later.”

  She flounces out, leaving me alone with Cait, who looks…pissed? “Do not give me an ‘I told you so,’ Caitlin.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” she says coolly. We’re both quiet for a few moments, and I know she’s got more to say.

  “Out with it.”

  She exhales sharply. “I just think it would’ve been nice not to find all this shit out after Sophie. Why didn’t you just tell us you were hooking up with him before this?”

  “Because I wasn’t. Not really.”

  “Is he the Top-Five kisser?”

  Oh, right. I forgot I’d told them about that. “See?” I say sheepishly. “I did tell you about him.”

  She sighs. “I might’ve been able to help you out with things if I’d known sooner that he was the guy you’ve been obsessed with. Now I have no idea what the hell to do.”

  “There’s nothing to do other than tell Connor. If Professor Ozgur finds this out from anyone but him, he’s fucked.”

  “You’re right about that,” she concedes, nodding sharply. “Okay, yeah, call him.”

  I do, and there’s no answer. I try again, hoping two calls in a row will make clear it’s important, in case he’s screening while he works, but no luck.

  I leave a message to call me, and then I head home. There’s nothing more I can do right now.

  My life is falling apart, and I’m completely fucking powerless.

  • • •

  He’s not the one who shows up at my door later that night, though; Cait is. She hasn’t been back in my apartment since the night she came with me to check it out, so I suspect that whatever she’s here to say…it isn’t good. She’s got a great poker face, though, and waits to open her mouth until I’ve closed my bedroom door behind us and she’s made herself at home on my bed.

  “Do I even want to know?” I ask, bracing myself against my desk. “It can’t possibly be worse than what she’s already done, can it?”

  “Actually….” She cocks her head. “It’s Trevor.”

  The groan that rises from my gut sounds a little like a dying animal. “Why, why, why does Trevor have to make this worse?”

  “Actually,” says Cait, a little smile playing on her lips, “he’s been spreading the word that Sophie’s full of shit, and making this up about you and the professor because she’s jealous.”

  My jaw drops. “You’re screwing with me.”

  “I screw you not. Don’t ask me why he’s doing it, but he’s definitely doing it. Check online.”

  I rush to my computer—which I’d been avoiding, like I’d been avoiding everything other than my brothers, the TV, and the chocolate stash I hide from Max under my bed—and look at the very picture Cait a
nd Frankie had mentioned before. My stomach roils at the sight of the “Pedophile” caption, but Cait was right—just below a couple of confused and amused comments, there’s Trevor, with a surprisingly serious “Sophie, enough with the lies, and shut this down.”

  Dropping onto the bed, I try to figure out why the hell Trevor would do any of this. Does he genuinely think she’s lying? Is he trying to protect me? “Of all people, why would Trevor Matlin stick up for me?” I ask Cait.

  “No clue,” she says, “but he definitely is. I’ve heard he’s been spreading the word too, including to all the guys in the house, and he tweeted something about her spreading bullshit too.”

  “Meanwhile, poor Connor has no idea any of this is happening,” I murmur. “At least, I don’t think he does.”

  “I can’t imagine he doesn’t by now. This is all anyone’s talking about.” I shoot her a look, but she just shrugs. “What, you want me to lie?”

  “I thought you hated drama.”

  “I do, but it’s a little hard to stay out of it when your best friend is involved,” she says wryly. “And you’re damn good at finding it.”

  “You know I didn’t mean to.”

  “I know.” She wraps an arm around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head in a very un-Cait-like move. “But I have to admit, there’s something sort of sweet about watching you fall so hard for someone. Even if it’s sort of gross.”

  “Gross because it’s me or gross because he’s my TA?”

  She taps her chin in thought. “Both.”

  “You’re a sweetheart, Cait.”

  I can see her about to respond but then we both hear the doorbell ring and we silently lock eyes.

  “Connor,” she says. “It has to be.”

  “But what if it isn’t? What if it’s Sophie, here to tear me to shreds?”

  I expect her to tell me I’m being ridiculous.

  She doesn’t.

  The bell sounds again, and we both move to get up, then freeze when we hear the door open. One of the boys has answered the door. A few seconds later, Ty’s voice calls, “Lizzie! Connor’s here.”

  “Shit,” I mutter.

  “Um, isn’t he who you wanted to see?”

  “In theory, yes. Do I actually want to face him after everything Sophie’s done? Hell no.”

  “Well, you have no choice now, so, get over it.” She marches to the bedroom door and swings it open, leaving me no choice but to follow her out.

  Connor blanches at the sight of Cait, and I know right then that he has no idea what Sophie’s been up to. Which sucks in its own right, since I’ll have to tell him now. I glance at Cait, and she squeezes my arm before walking right up to Connor and sticking out a hand. “Hey, I’m Cait. You must be Connor.”

  “You look familiar,” he says, a crease forming in his forehead as he takes the hand she extends and shakes it. Then he smiles sheepishly. “You were at Delta that night.”

  “Guilty,” she says, sounding equally sheepish. The entire thing is surreal. It’s the weirdest “best friend meets boyfriend” I’ve ever experienced, though in fairness, it’s also the only one. “I should go, leave you guys to talk. It was nice to officially meet you, Connor.”

  “You too,” he says, polite but puzzled. She gives my arm another quick squeeze and lets herself out.

  When the door closes behind her, Connor fixes me with a stare. “How long have your friends known? And how does she know we need to talk?”

  I glance at Ty, who’s still standing there, watching us, clearly eager for some dirt. “Come on,” I say, rolling my eyes at my brother and leading Connor into my room. I close the door behind us and ignore Tyler’s rude noises in response.

  “She hasn’t known for long,” I tell him as he sits down on my bed, “but…shit. I don’t even know how to tell you this. You really haven’t heard anything?”

  “I’ve been in meetings all day,” he replies, a touch of…something in his tone. It’s not quite anger, but it’s definitely an edge.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “I’m not sure,” he says, exhaling sharply. “But I told Professor Ozgur.”

  I blink. Then again. “I’m sorry, you told Professor Ozgur what?”

  “That I’m in a relationship with one of our students.”

  Laughter pours out of me before I can stop it, positively bubbling. This was exactly what I’d wanted him to do, yesterday, when it might’ve made a huge difference. Now the word is out about us anyway, and he’s confirmed Sophie’s non-evidence. Though his way may have allowed him to keep his job—emphasis on may have—now his reputation’s shot to hell because I didn’t get to him in time.

  If Professor Ozgur finds out that this information has gotten a whole lot further than his office, Connor is almost definitely fucked.

  “This is funny?”

  “No,” I say, continuing to laugh miserably. “It’s awful, actually.”

  He bites his lip, releases it. “I kind of thought you’d be happy to hear it.”

  “Connor, fuck, no, that’s not—no.” I take a deep breath, calm myself, and squeeze his hand, which he’s balled into a fist. “Listen, I have to tell you something. And it’s not actually funny. Like, at all.”

  “Okay, but just to be clear, you’re scaring the shit out of me.” He looks me in the eye and swallows hard. “I assume that since it’s only been a few days, this isn’t you telling me that you’re pregnant—”

  “You assume correctly.” Though now of course I’m wondering what he’d say if that were the case, but this doesn’t seem like the right time to make up false scenarios when we’ve got a very real one to deal with. “Unfortunately, Sophie Springer is, or at least will be for another few days, and it’s made her hate me even more than she used to.”

  Connor blinks. “Sophie Springer? Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “Because she’s the one who was either handy with a can of spray paint or knew someone who was.” I sigh, my stomach already tensing with nerves at his reaction. “She told people about us. I don’t know how she knew, but she tried to blackmail me, and when I told her to go fuck herself, she went on a rampage.”

  “What does that mean, exactly?” he asks, his voice strained as he struggles to stay calm.

  There’s no point in sugarcoating it, so I bring my laptop over, show him everything, and fill him in on what I know. By the time I’m done, he looks like he’s gonna be sick. Which is how I feel.

  “She’s psychotic,” he utters when he can finally find his voice.

  “Connor, I’m so, so sorry. I know that doesn’t make up for any of this, but—”

  He cups my cheeks in his palms and pulls me in for a long, slow kiss that’s so warm and comforting, I think that if we could just stay exactly like this forever, I might be able to ignore all the other shit in my life. But of course, stupid human that I am, I actually need to breathe again; after a few minutes of losing myself in him, we part. “Stop apologizing,” he says gruffly. “We’re on the same side here. This isn’t your fault.”

  “So now what?” I ask him, running my thumb along his scruffy jawline.

  “Now you’re stuck with a twenty-five-year-old disgraced history TA who can barely even dress himself. Lucky girl, you.”

  “Man, when you put it that way.” I start to rise from the bed, then laugh when he grabs my arm and pulls me back, into an embrace.

  “No way. I get at least one more day for my act of proud boyfriend chivalry.” He pauses. “Don’t I?”

  “A week, even.” I reach up and finger the collar of his dress shirt. “You know I’m lucky to be stuck with you, right? You take damn good care of me and my brothers. You teach me new things every day. You make me laugh.” Dropping my voice, I lean in to suck at the skin just below his jaw. “Not to mention that you look hot as fuck in the height of nerdwear.” I press a kiss to his full lower lip, nip it gently. “You make me come so hard they can probably hear me three towns over. You’re pretty much
the only thing I’ve done right since I got to Radleigh.”

  He swallows hard but doesn’t respond. At least not with words. His arms circle my waist but I get the sense he didn’t even realize he’d lifted them.

  “You make me feel like so much more than I am.” His voice sounds so raw, it hurts my throat. “What’s gonna happen when you don’t need my help anymore? When I can’t teach you anything?”

  “I’m not with you because I need you, Connor. I’m with you because I want you. And because you have a huge…heart.”

  He laughs softly into my hair. “God, I love you.”

  Like liquid warmth through my body, every damn time. “I love you too.”

  His voice drops to a murmur, soft and warm on the shell of my ear. “I really, really wish your brothers weren’t home, because I’d like to do some pretty objectionable things to you right now.”

  Welp—bye, panties. You weren’t that cute today anyway. “I really, really wish that too.” I squeeze my eyes—and legs—shut, but I think the ship has sailed on finding any relief. “I’m guessing your place is off limits, huh?”

  “I think it’s best not to poke the dragon with pointy sticks while I’m still awaiting my fate,” he says before pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Truthfully, I shouldn’t be here now. It didn’t even occur to me you’d have a friend over.”

  “Because it didn’t occur to you I had friends?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Because I’ve lost the ability to think like a fucking grown-up.”

  “You mean with your head instead of your dick?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘instead of my heart’ but I suppose it’s hard to argue with your version.” Raking a hand through his hair, he exhales sharply and tears his eyes from mine. “I should go.”

  “And then what?” I press. “Will I see you in class on Tuesday, at least?”

  “That’s up to Professor Ozgur. He said he needed some time to think things over, speak with the disciplinary committee.”

  “The disciplinary committee? About what? You told Ozgur the truth. Enough of it, anyway.”

  He laughs bitterly. “Yeah, and the truth is that I’m sleeping with one of our students. Telling him myself just means I’m not automatically out on my ass, the way I would’ve been if he’d found out through one of Sophie’s charming posts. I still may lose my fellowship.”