Summary: Though their chemistry class is now over, the chemistry between James and Rose is just getting started. Together, they navigate the highs of new love and the lows of coping with past trauma to forge deep and unbreakable bonds of love and commitment.

Chapter rating: Teen

Chapter 13:

Rose gaped at her phone for a long moment. The screen eventually went dark, leaving her staring at her wide-eyed, open-mouthed reflection.

It's me. Jimmy.

Three words. Three tiny, little, stupid words, and her good mood abruptly vanished, leaving her cold and clammy. Gone was the high of flirting with James; gone was the excitement of having a lunch date with him.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, jarring her back to reality and startling her so badly that she flinched and nearly tossed her phone across the room. Praying for a text from James—anything to distract her from the WhatsApp message—she carefully typed in her passcode. Her phone buzzed in rapid succession in her hands, and she nearly wept with relief; James was the only one who ever texted her in a series of individual messages like that.

Lab's done! Dunno why my prof was so miffed I was on my phone. Was the first to finish the lab.

And it's not like I was cheating by looking up all the answers.

Though really, what would it matter since it's lab and we can use any resource at our disposal to complete the lab.

I think he's still annoyed I aced his exam. Well. Technically a 99%. But he marked off a point for a silly technicality.

I'm rambling, sorry. My point was, I could swing by the house to pick you up, if you want? If you haven't left yet.

The last thing Rose wanted was to see James in person. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She craved James's comforting presence. But he would be able to immediately tell that something was wrong, and she wasn't exactly in the mood to dig too far into her emotions right now.

"I've called for an Uber," Rose lied, hating herself even as she sent the message. "It's just down the block."

Ahh, rotten timing. I'll be hanging out in the library 'til lunch time, if you get to the school early.

Unable to think of anything to say, she replied with a handful of heart emojis and finished her morning routine, leaving Jimmy's message unanswered. Her brain turned fuzzy and her heart raced any time she thought about opening the messaging app to reply. What could she even say to him?

She kept checking her phone, though, certain that a new message from him would be waiting for her. After all, he knew she'd seen his messages, since she'd stupidly responded to his initial "hey". But nothing else was there. He didn't demand that she talk to him; he didn't try to initiate a voice or video chat. It was like he was waiting for her to make the next move. What on earth even was the next move? What did she have to say to him?

Three years. It had been over three years since she had heard from him. The last thing she had said to him was that she'd ended the lease to their flat, and to pack up his stuff, otherwise she gave the landlady permission to throw away anything that was left over. To this day, Rose didn't know if Jimmy had ever collected his stuff. Rose had blocked his number and removed him from all of her social media accounts, and, for all intents and purposes, boxed him up in her memories and threw away the key.

But he had now burst out of that box, and with it came all of the pent up hurt and anger she felt towards him. What right did he have to force himself back into her life like the last three years hadn't happened? What right did he have to be a dark little rain cloud blotting out the sunshine of her relationship with James? Furthermore, how did he even get her new number? She'd changed it when she moved to the United States and only gave it out to her mother and her friends. Had he somehow stalked her?

That thought chilled her to the bone. Did he know where she lived? Did he know where she went to school? What if he was on campus, waiting for her? What if he never expected her to reply to his messages, so he showed up in person to make her talk to him.

Rose gagged and dropped to her knees in front of the toilet. Her entire body was shaking as sweat trickled down her spine and across her forehead. Black specks dotted her vision, which was throbbing in time with her heart. She remained in limbo for nearly a minute, unsure of whether she was actually going to vomit.

What did Jimmy want from her? Why couldn't he stay away, tucked neatly into the corner of her mind she rarely visited, not even with James. She loved him, she loved him so much, more than she'd loved anyone else before… but it felt wrong to spoil what she had with James with memories of Jimmy. Even the tidbits she had shared with James already felt… dirty.

After another couple of minutes, Rose didn't feel as in danger of throwing up her guts, but it was a close call. Any time she looked at her phone, her stomach churned and her tongue turned leaden in her mouth. She needed to get moving, though. If she didn't call an Uber in the next five minutes, she would be late to class.

Sucking in a deep breath, Rose opened up her phone—noting with relief there were no new WhatsApp notifications—and opened the Uber app. She was in luck; there was a driver a few streets over. She requested a ride, then went to the mirror to wash her face of the cold sweat. She unfortunately washed off all of her makeup, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Returning the jumper she'd intended to wear to the closet, Rose instead grabbed one of James's hoodies and donned that instead. The mere scent of him slowed her racing heart; not a lot, but enough that the tremors in her hands eased.

Her phone buzzed in her hands, causing her stomach to roll. But it was just the Uber driver, informing her he'd arrived.

Cursing, Rose raced to the kitchen for her backpack. There were a few notebooks scattered across the table. Not having the time to figure out which ones she needed, she scooped up everything and dumped it into her bag. At the front door, she slipped on her trainers without tying the laces and ran outside.

"Sorry, sorry!" she panted. "Bit of a late start this mornin'."

"No worries," the driver said, then he turned around in James's driveway and began driving to the school.

Thankfully the driver wasn't a chatty one, because Rose wasn't sure if she'd be able to hold a conversation. She kept unlocking her phone and opening Jimmy's message, then relocking her phone. What was she even supposed to say?

When the driver dropped her off on campus, Rose had to nearly sprint to the academic building where her ten o'clock French class was taught. Slightly sweaty and out of breath, Rose sank into a seat at the back of the classroom and tugged her phone out of the hoodie's kangaroo pocket. Nothing from Jimmy. Or James.

She fired off a quick message to her boyfriend, telling him she made it safely to class. Then she opened up WhatsApp.

It's me. Jimmy.

There were so many things Rose wanted to tell him, most of which were not at all polite, but she settled on the question that had been sickening her since she first saw his name.

"How the hell did you get my number?"

She silenced her phone and placed it on 'do not disturb' mode before slipping it into a pouch of her backpack.

Rose could hardly focus on any of the content in her ten or eleven o'clock lectures, and she nearly called James to cancel their lunch date, but she didn't want to come up with an excuse. And she didn't have the nerve to look at her phone, in case Jimmy had texted her back. Her phone was still silenced and on 'do not disturb' mode, so unless she checked, she wouldn't know if she'd gotten a new message.

At noon, Rose made her way to the dining hall, which was utterly packed with students getting lunch. How was she supposed to find James in this?

The noise of the crowd was nearly overwhelming, making Rose's ears ring and her face go clammy. She couldn't have lunch here.

Just as she was about to turn around and flee the dining hall, a low voice in her ear said, "That hoodie looks familiar."

She flinched away from the body pressed up against her back, her brain not entirely registering that it was James until she'd stepped away from him.

"Rose?" He was frowning, his brow pinched. "I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to startle you. Are you all right?"

Rose didn't know whether to smack James or hug him or begin crying. She settled for a smile that felt far too stiff as she said, "Sorry. Lost in my own head. Er… would it be all right if we took our food somewhere quieter to eat?"

"Of course," he said. "You sure you're all right?"

Rose nodded, then led the way into the food court. None of the food looked appetizing, but she knew she ought to eat something since she hadn't had breakfast. The line for the salad bar was the shortest, so she grabbed a to-go container and filled it with lettuce, spinach, and other vegetable accoutrements.

James had joined the grill queue, which was at least a dozen people long.

"I'll wait for you outside," Rose told him, needing fresh air.

"Gimme your lunch, I'll have them ring it up with mine…"

"No," she interrupted, holding the salad container out of his reach. "Not today. Please."

"It's supposed to be a date," he whined.

Annoyance flared inside her, making her cheeks go hot. "I can pay for myself, James."

Her words came out much harsher than she meant them to, and he visibly recoiled. Fuck.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, scratching at the back of his neck. "I- I didn't mean… I'm sorry."

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

Forcing a smile, Rose rested her hand on his upper arm and gave it a soft squeeze. "I'll meet you outside. Okay?"

He scanned his eyes across her face. What he was looking for, she didn't know. She held her smile and hoped it looked reassuring.

"Would you prefer to eat alone?" he asked quietly, his voice nearly masked by the din of the dining hall.

Would she prefer to be alone? She didn't know. Yes, it would be nice to be able to panic in private, but no, James was keeping the panic at bay. She wanted the morning to not have happened. She wanted to go back to when the mystery number first texted her, and block it from the start.

"I'll meet you outside," she repeated, well aware that it wasn't exactly an answer to his question.

He knew it too, and his shoulders hunched in on themselves before he spun away from her and moved forward in the queue.

Still muttering curses inside her head, Rose went to the refrigerated section and grabbed a bottle of water. With her hands full, she went to the register, set her items on the counter, and rooted through her backpack for her wallet. She couldn't find it anywhere.

"Shit," she growled to herself.

It must be in James's car. She had taken it with her to the cinema the night before, and had stashed it in the center console before the film; she hadn't remembered to grab it when they'd returned to his house.

"Do you know your student ID?" the cashier asked gently. "I can look up your account that way."

"I don't have money in my account," Rose sighed, digging the heel of her hand into her eyes. She made a mental note to herself to put a few dining dollars into her account as soon as she could, to avoid a situation like this in the future. But that didn't help her now.

The cashier was beginning to look deeply uncomfortable, the way all cashiers had looked at Rose whenever her card got declined or when she was short on cash and had to select which items to return. Rose was utterly humiliated for holding up the queue, and for what she was about to do.

"My boyfriend's still in here." Rose thumbed over her shoulder in the general vicinity James was in. "I'm gonna see if he can lend me a bit of cash. Sorry."

Rose stepped out of the line and walked into the bustle of the food court.

She was so very tempted to return her water to the fridge and to dump her salad into the trash, but that was wasteful. And she was starting to get hungry. Plus, how would she explain to James why she didn't have any food?

Well, there was nothing else to do. Scraping her bruised pride off the grimy floor, Rose ambled to the back of the food court towards the grill. James was off to the side, waiting for his meal. His arms were crossed at his chest as he rocked from his heels to his toes.

"Hey," she muttered. He either was ignoring her, or hadn't heard her, so she tried again. "Hey."

He glanced over, eyes wide with surprise. "Rose. Everything all right?"

"No. I forgot my wallet in your car," she admitted, the tips of her ears stinging with embarrassment.

She'd just yelled at him not three minutes ago when he'd tried to pay for her food. Now here she was, begging for his help. Pathetic.

Glaring at her shoes so she didn't have to see his "I told you so" smirk, Rose waited for the gloating. Or for him to say he'd changed his mind. That if she'd been so adamant on paying her own way, she could very well face the consequences of her pride. Not so high and mighty now, are you Rosie?

"No problem," James said. "We can swing by my car after lunch and you can pick it up."

The knot in her stomach tightened. Was he being intentionally thick? Was he really going to make her say it?"

"I don't have any money," she whispered, furious at the tears burning behind her eyes. She blinked hard once, twice, until they went away.

"Well, I would think not," he said. "Money is usually kept in a wallet, innit?"

"Fine. Whatever. I'll meet you outside."

Long fingers gripped her bicep gently, keeping her from stepping away. "Not so fast, love. You can't very well steal that salad and water bottle."

"I know. Rubbish bin's over there."

James's frown deepened before his eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. "Rubbish bin…? Rose, what are you talking about?"

"I can't pay for my food, James," she snapped. "Stop acting so thick. Is this what you wanted me to say? I don't have my wallet, so I don't have any money, so I can't pay for my bloody lunch. Are you happy now?"

Rose was aware of the heads that had turned their way, and of the glares certain people were directing towards James. If he noticed them, he didn't pay them any attention. Instead, he faced her head-on and he gripped her shoulders gently, yet firmly enough that she couldn't easily walk away.

"Oh, Rose, I'm so sorry," he murmured, his thumbs rubbing small circles into her shoulders. "God, I am thick, aren't I? We're having a huge misunderstanding. You don't have to throw your lunch away. I'll gladly pay for it. Of course I will. When you said you didn't have your wallet, I thought that was you asking me to pay. Which I'm happy to do. You know that. At least… I thought you knew that. I'm so sorry if I made you think I wouldn't."

More tears burned behind her eyes, and she swallowed them down. "But… I shouted at you."

"Well, you didn't exactly shout." He lifted his shoulder in a shrug. "So what if you got a little short with me? You think I'll hold that grudge and make you starve?"

When he put it like that, she felt foolish. Of course James wouldn't make her go hungry. Of course he wouldn't laugh in her face about karma. Of course he wouldn't be anything other than a bloody decent human being.

She couldn't stop the tears this time. The stress of the morning she'd had crashed over, crumpling her face as she desperately tried to not make a sound.

"C'mere. I've got you."

She was suddenly folded into a familiar, comforting pair of arms. She wished she'd thought to set her food down so she could return his hug. Instead, she stood there like an idiot, blubbering into his sweatshirt.

"What's wrong, Rose?" he asked.

She couldn't speak, not as her tears clogged her throat, nearly choking her. She wanted to disappear, to be anywhere else in the world but in the crowded dining hall, having a breakdown in front of so many people.

"Breathe, love. Just breathe. You're okay. Everything's okay. C'mon. My food's ready. Let's pay for this, then we can go outside. Get some fresh air. And if you feel up to it, you can tell me what's wrong." He pressed a hard kiss to the top of her head, then he released her. A moment later, a thick wad of napkins was pushed into her palm. "Here. Wipe your face. Blow your nose. Go to the loo and splash cool water on your face. I'll meet you by the front doors when you're ready. Eh?"

Absolutely, completely, irrevocably mortified, Rose tried to school her features as much as possible, but there was no way to make her face less puffy and splotchy. She sniffled hard and ducked her head as she practically ran out of the dining hall. People watched her make her escape, and she nearly said sod it and fled the building to catch a bus to her flat.

She forced her feet to take her to the ladies' room. It, of course, was full of three chattering girls blocking the way to the sinks. The conversation stopped when she entered.

"'Scuse me," Rose muttered, ducking her head to skirt past them to get to a sink.

"Is everything all right?" one of the women asked.

"Havin' a bad day," she admitted.

The woman winced in sympathy. "Do you need us to call anyone for you?"

"Need us to beat up an ex-boyfriend?" another offered.

"Or girlfriend," a third chimed in. "We'll totally kick anyone's ass."

Rose's tears nearly started up again even as she laughed.

"C'mere," the first one said. She grabbed a bunch of paper towels from the dispenser and soaked them under the cold water. "Press this to your face."

Unable to speak, Rose accepted the paper towels and held them to her swollen, scratchy eyes.

"That accent," one of the girls said. "You're from England?"

"London," Rose answered, blotting her face with the cool towel. "Moved here for school."

"God, I've always wanted to go to the UK. Plane tickets are so expensive though. Plus figuring out hotels and transportation and food. One day I'll make it over there."

"You're so brave, coming to a brand new country for college. I couldn't even go out of state. Though I did go to the other side of the state. I'm from Pittsburgh."

The girls all chatted mindlessly at Rose as she cleaned then dried her face.

"Thanks," she croaked. "I'm Rose, by the way."

"No probs. I'm Melanie."

"Kira."

"Elsa… I had this name before it became trendy. Fuckin' Frozen."

Rose cracked a small smile, and the other girls grinned in return.

"We'll see you around, Rose," Melanie said. "Are you sure there isn't anything else we can do for you?"

"I'm fine. Thank you so much. I don't… Thank you."

"We've all had shit days," Elsa said. "Don't worry about it. Take it easy this weekend, if you can. And that offer to kick someone's ass still stands, by the way. I'm in your composition class, in case you didn't realize. I sit in the front corner. Thank God class is canceled though. Have you thought of a research topic for the persuasion piece? I'm thinking of doing something with how crazy white nationalism is in America. Forcing little kids to recite the Pledge of Allegiance every day from kindergarten until twelfth grade is nuts. Like… scary nuts."

"I hadn't thought of anything yet," Rose confessed.

"Here…" Elsa took her phone out of her back pocket and extended it to Rose. "Put your number in. We can chat about the paper. And bitch about classes. And you can tell me who's ass I have to kick. Or you can totally give me a wrong number. No judgement."

Rose laughed and typed her contact information into Elsa's phone.

"Awesome. We were about to grab lunch. Do you want to join us?"

"I'm havin' lunch with my boyfriend." Upon seeing Elsa's raised eyebrow, Rose hurriedly assured, "His arse isn't the one needing kicked, I promise. My… my ex decided to text me."

How odd, that the words fell off of her tongue so nonchalantly, as if she hadn't been on the cusp of a panic attack all morning.

"Need me to kick his ass?" Elsa asked, perking up.

"She's quite violent," Melanie said in a mock whisper, "for being five feet tall."

"There are a lot of efficient ways to incapacitate someone," Elsa said, digging her elbow into Melanie's side.

"I appreciate the offer," Rose said. "But he's in London." I think.

"I'll add it to my to-do list if I ever make it to England," Elsa said with a decisive nod.

"Sorry, but I really need to get some food in me before my one o'clock lab," Kira said apologetically. "Y'all can keep talking, but…"

"No, no," Rose said, waving them away. "Go have lunch. Besides, I don't want to keep my boyfriend waiting. It was nice meeting you all."

The three girls all waved goodbye, then began discussing a party this weekend at a nearby university as they exited the loo. Rose tossed the sodden paper towels into the trash, gave her appearance a once-over—apart from her bloodshot eyes, it wasn't overly obvious she'd been crying her heart out mere minutes earlier—then walked out of the ladies' room.

James was sitting on one of the benches in the lobby of the dining hall, a brown paper bag resting on the floor between his feet. He jumped up when he saw her, nearly stepping on their food.

"Rose," he breathed, opening his arms for her.

She stepped into them and wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing tightly. He returned the pressure just as fiercely and rested his chin on the top of her head.

"Are you all right?" he murmured.

"I want to go outside."

He nodded and, with a final squeeze, released her. Tentatively, she brushed her fingers against his and was relieved when he wrapped his hand around hers. With his other, he picked up the bag with their lunches and guided her outside.

It was one of those late-March days that teased at springtime, but reminded you that winter had just ended. In the sunshine, it was warm enough to not be uncomfortable, but in the shade, goosebumps prickled across Rose's flesh any time the wind kicked up. James led Rose past the dining hall courtyard, where every single table was in use, and he instead led her half way across campus and to a statue of the university's founder. Around the statue was a decorative wall the perfect height to sit on.

"How's this?" James asked. "Direct sunlight, so we should be warm enough. Unless those clouds decide to intervene." He shot a glare to the sky, where there were a handful of wispy clouds that would have no chance of blocking out the strong sunlight from overhead.

They ate their food in silence that was slightly uncomfortable. Rose made it through half of her salad before her stomach decided it didn't want any more food, so she pushed the lettuce around and around with her plastic fork.

James offered her bites of his burger and chips, but the thought of eating anything greasy made her stomach heave.

"What's wrong, Rose?" James asked when his burger was finished and he had a handful of chips left.

I got a text from Jimmy.

How hard would that be to say? She'd blurted it out to three strangers she'd just met; she should be able to tell her boyfriend.

But the words got stuck in her throat. She swallowed and tried again.

I got a text from Jimmy.

She could almost predict how James would react. His face would turn steely, but not at her; he would ask if she was all right; he would tell her over and over again that he loved her, that Jimmy was a wanker, that she was lucky to be shot of him. And she craved that reassurance, so why couldn't she open her mouth and tell him? Why couldn't she spit it out?

Because what if he got upset with her? What if he was upset that she didn't immediately block the number when she realized it was Jimmy? What if he was upset that, not only did she not block the number, she actually responded?

I got a text from Jimmy.

James's face went pale, and for a moment, she thought she'd done it. She thought she'd managed to say the words. But then he asked, "Er… you're not about to break up with me, are you?"

His tone was nonchalant, but that was genuine fear and heartbreak behind his eyes.

"No!" Finally, that godforsaken lump in her throat dissolved. "God, no!"

His tense shoulders relaxed, but only marginally. "Then what's bothering you, Rose?"

I got a text from Jimmy.

"I… I'm… I got—" a text from Jimmy "—I'm havin' a bad day," she said.

His face softened. "Did something trigger it?"

I got a text from Jimmy.

"Things feel so… heavy," she said instead. It was the truth, after all, if not the full truth. "I feel like I'm drowning."

James moved the containers from their lunch and set them on the ground. He took their place, scooting close enough that he could wrap her into a hug. She leaned into him, hating herself for not being able to tell him exactly what happened, but appreciating his comfort and support, even if he didn't know why the support was needed.

"I get it," he murmured. "Believe me, I get it. I get into these moods too."

"It sucks."

He snorted humorlessly. "Yeah. It does. I'm so sorry you're feeling like this." He planted a series of small kisses to the side of her head. "I love you so much, Rose. Always remember that. Even when your brain is being mean and nasty, I love you."

I got a text from Jimmy. How bloody hard would it be to just say the goddamned words? James had confided in her about so much of his own heartbreak when he got into one of his bad moods, why couldn't she do the same?

"Next time you're feeling like this," James whispered, breaking her from her thoughts, "can you tell me upfront? Might spare us a bit of hurt, if we're both on the same page. As brilliant as I am, I'm not a mind reader, eh?"

He pinched her side playfully, his words and tone light.

I'm not a mind reader, eh?

Tell me upfront.

I'm not a mind reader.

Just tell me.

I'm not a fucking mind reader.

If you've got a problem, tell me.

What the fuck is your problem? You got somethin' to say? Well spit it out. I'm not a fucking mind reader, Rosie.

Cold sweat broke out along Rose's spine, beneath her arms, across her brow. She was going to be sick. She was going to be sick all over James. James, who was still holding her, his arms a cage… a cage around her… holding her in place… not letting her escape… not letting her leave…

Don't you fucking walk away from me.

"I want to be alone," she rasped. Desperately trying to swallow down the flood of saliva in her mouth, Rose jumped down from the wall, away from James. She was not going to vomit, she was not going to vomit, she was not going to vomit. "I need to be alone."

"Hey hey hey." James pitched his voice low and gentle. His face was pained; he held his hands out towards her, but didn't approach. "Hey, you're all right. You're okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Not you," she said, shaking her head as though she could physically dislodge the voices in her head. Well. The voice, as it belonged to only one person. "I'm gonna go home. I need to go home. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Let me drive you," James said, leaping to his feet.

But Rose shook her head. "You have class."

"Sod my class," he said. "I need to make sure you get home safely."

"No, James. I- I'll be all right. I just need to go home. Sleep. I'll take a nap."

"It would make me feel better to drive you," he said. "I won't stay, but please… please let me take you home. If we leave right now, I can be there and back in time for my class. Besides, I've got your wallet. Gotta return that to you, eh? Can you honestly say that being on a crowded bus sounds like a better option?"

No, she couldn't. He was right. She knew he was right.

"Fine," she conceded. "Just… fine."

"Thank you." He grabbed the remnants of their lunch and shoved it into a nearby rubbish bin, then led the way to his car.

The ride was uncomfortably silent, but Rose didn't know how to break it, nor did she have the energy to break it.

James pulled up in front of her building, but didn't get out of the car. For the first time, it was a relief to be leaving him, and Rose hated herself for it.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"Don't be," he said with a weary smile. "I get it. Truly. Get some rest. Oh!" He opened up the center console and held out her wallet. "Text me later, if you'd like. Sometimes talking about feelings over a screen is easier than doing it face to face. Let me know if you want me to come by. Or if you want to come to my house. Or if you want to be alone. Whatever you want… whatever you need."

More tears burned her throat, and she nodded wordlessly.

"I really do love you," she croaked. "God, I'm a mess today. I'm sorry."

"I love you, too," he answered. "It's okay, Rose. Honestly. Focus on yourself. I'll see you later."

He reached across the seat as though to touch her, but he paused, his hand hovering in the seat she'd just vacated. He looked so lost and helpless, and she knew it was all her fault.

She reached out and took his hand, kissing the backs of his knuckles.

"Love you," she murmured. "Thanks for the ride."

"I don't know how to ask…" James licked his lips. "Will you be okay… will you be safe if I leave you alone?"

It took her several seconds to realize what he was saying.

"I'll be fine," she said, squeezing his fingers. "I promise. Look at me. I promise. You don't have to worry about that.

He scanned her face, his gaze intense. He must have believed her, because he nodded and brought her hand to his lips for a parting kiss.

"I love you more than you'll ever know, Rose," he whispered into her skin. "I'm so sorry you're feeling so low."

She forced a small smile, then pulled her hand back and shut the car door. She took a few steps back and waved, giving him leave to depart. He did. He pulled away from the curb and took off down the street; Rose watched him until the taillights of his car disappeared around the corner.

As always, if you've read this chapter, I would love to hear from you.