Where the hell is he? Is he okay?

Who’s driving the black Ferrari?

Why did he leave? Is he coming back?

He should have been going to classes, at least. As far as I knew, the campus policy was that after three consecutive absences, the professor can boot the student out of the class. Assuming the professor even checked attendance. If Cameron had two classes and they were only once a week, that meant he could still be gone for another couple of weeks before he was forced to come back.

Assuming he hadn’t quit college yet. What about his freelancing business? He flipped houses. He also said he worked for a friend when he didn’t have a project. Why the hell hadn’t I asked the name of it? He couldn’t just leave his responsibilities, so he had to come back some time.

I drove by his house again last night. Scared that I’d see a for sale sign in his front yard. I was putting a stop to it tonight. It was getting ridiculous already. And I felt like a creepy stalker.

I had worked at a casino for a short time before, as housekeeping. I once saw a lady playing those slot machines. She kept on inserting coin after coin, her eyes glued to the screen, hoping she’d hit the jackpot. But she never did. Her winnings never came. I felt like that lady. Hoping I’d win eventually if I just inserted more coins, but what it was doing was actually making me broke and leaving me with an empty wallet. I could keep investing my emotions in him, but I was only getting a negative in return. If he was going to leave, then why did he have to confess all that to me that night? He could’ve just left it at that. It was crueler to say all those things to me, make me hope and wish for what could’ve been between us. I hadn’t even known the guy that long. Why was I acting like I’d lost my husband of sixty fucking-till-death-do-us-part years?

This was the part I hated about myself. Once I let people in, I got attached and it was hard for me to let them go. But I tried. I had a lot of practice letting go of people who had been a part of my life before.

It was a chilly Thursday, and I was at the campus cafeteria with Tala, staring at the food menu board on the wall when I realized I’d completely missed out on my veggie lasagna.

The cafeteria didn’t have a fixed schedule for it, just as long as they served it once a week. So you had to check the menu every day.

And they had served it two days ago.

“Motherfucker! This is all his fault. I missed my veggie lasagna,” I muttered under my breath.

The girl behind the glass food display case smiled sympathetically. I noted how beautiful she was with her dark cat eyes and dark hair up in that white chef hat and wearing the white apron the culinary arts students wore. I smiled back at her and moved on.

“My psychic powers tell me something is the matter with you.” Tala frowned at me as I placed my tray on the table—I’d bought fries, a miserable half cucumber sandwich, and a cup of coffee—and took the seat across from her.

I shook my head and reached for my sandwich. It tasted exceptionally good today, but I couldn’t fully appreciate it or anything else in the state I was in. I checked my phone and found a text from Dylan.

Dylan: Rmembr when I told U that one of my many friends got U an interview! It’s really good money. Will tell more when I see you @home if interested! I know U R!

He’d mentioned it before, but I hadn’t been in the mood to listen to him then. Because it was Dylan, I was skeptical, but I sent him a quick reply just in case. I looked up and noticed Tala watching me with sad eyes.

“I feel like I’m not your best friend anymore,” she said quietly.

“What?” Shocked that she’d say this, I gaped at her.

“I know how strong you are, Kar. But you never share.”

I placed my sandwich back on the plate. “That’s not fair, Tal. I d

o share things with you.”

“Yeah, but it takes you forever to tell me what’s bothering you, and even then, the crisis has already passed, and there’s no way I could help you. You don’t want me to help you. Why are we even friends when you can’t lean on me?”

I let out an exhausted breath.

“I can see you’re tired of this. Nagbago ka na,” she said in Filipino, which if I remembered correctly meant that I’ve changed. “I have to go to class.”

“Tala…”

But she was already striding out of the cafeteria.

Feeling helpless and frustrated, I massaged the back of my neck. It hurt that she’d think that way about me, but it hurt more that she felt sad and upset because of me.

Why did every unfortunate thing start happening at the same time? If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. I couldn’t let Tala feel like this all day. I had to clear things up with her. But when I sent her a text asking if we could have coffee after our last class in the afternoon, she didn’t reply right away like she used to.

I headed to the lecture hall for my next class, feeling like a sad and depressed zombie. Tala was right, and I hadn’t even realized it.

Tags: Isabelle Ronin Chasing Red Romance
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