Unloved (The Undone, #2)

by Peyton Corinne

He’s way too advanced for me. I need to try a freshman meet and greet, or one of those Super Smash video game parties—the guys there are hopefully more my speed. I need training wheels. This guy is full throttle on the Circuit de Monaco, no way for me to slow him down.

“Wrong roommate for you if you want normal. My life is kind of a shit show— But, honestly, no one is normal. Normal is stupid, okay? Just be whoever you are.” “I don’t know who I am.”

“No way she even takes it when she sees the name—” Whatever he says next is drowned out underneath the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears. I almost spit out the bite of bagel already in my mouth, which is suddenly impossible to chew. Matthew Fredderic.

Beyond that, there’s a part of me that idolizes her. She’s one of only two women who teach within my major, and she’s friendly with her students—different from Dr. Khabra, who is reserved and often brutal in her grading and teaching practices. Where students are scared—albeit impressed—by Khabra’s brilliance, Tinley is approachable and warm.

And I know Sadie enough now to know she won’t leave. Loyal to a fault, like me.

I knew he probably needed the space—that, or he was hurt badly enough he might not come back. But Bennett took Rhys’s icing us out harder, because Rhys wasn’t just his captain. His best friend had completely shut him out. For four months.

“Happy to be as disruptive as possible.”

In the summer, though, he’s dressed indecently. A baby-blue linen button-down hangs off his broad shoulders, the buttons undone one below what most guys would wear so his shining tanned chest glows even in the fluorescent light of the library. His shorts are short, arguably shorter than the hem of my skirt, with muscular legs on display, one sporting a tattoo that I haven’t seen before—a butterfly of all things—on his upper thigh.

I’m gone before either of them can respond, nearly running toward the hallway with the bathrooms, my phone in my hand to text Sadie— —before slamming into a brick wall. That wall being Matt Fredderic.

“Sorry,” she says, quiet and shy, her tan skin flushing slightly as she tilts her head back a little to look up at me. Her hair is long, dripping down her back like a waterfall of curls, with little colored butterfly clips swirling through the strands. Then I realize it’s the same girl who ran into me—or was it away from me?—at the library last week.

My body starts to relax just looking at her. But only for a second, before both Sadie and Rhys are barking out a warning to steer clear of her.

I stop her before she can yank a whole chunk of her curls out and smooth them down, reclipping one of the discarded butterflies where she’d pulled it loose. Only three of them are left in her hair, a colorful graveyard of discarded butterflies littering the concrete around us. “They’re not stupid. Tyler is stupid,” I grumble. I don’t know who the guy is, but he sounds like a prick I’d love to meet fist to face.

“If you’re jumping, I’m jumping.” I shrug. “You are?” “Why not?” I smile. “Unless you want to do it alone.” Rosalie shakes her head rapidly. “I hate being alone.” Me, too.

I think you’d be really easy to love. It echoes in my head on a loop, tethering my ever-spinning mind.

“You try waking up with a pounding headache and ‘tolerate it’ playing on repeat like a sad, terrifying alarm.”

“I have to go tutor him now.” I rub my hands over my face again and nod, turning for my room before her mocking rendition of “Getaway Car” can fully reach my ears and irritate my already pounding head.

“Rosalie,” he coos, trying to calm me as he sets a hand on top of mine. It has the opposite effect, jolting me a foot off my seat as I yank my hands back to sit on them. Rosalie? Oh my god. My cheeks stain darker somehow; I can feel the heat. I told him my full name? No one knows my full name—I never use it. Not even Tyler knows what Ro is short for, but he also never asked. “It’s Ro,” I say, my voice small and squeaky. “I mean, that’s what I go by.” There is a sliver of hurt marring his expression before he laughs it away and sinks into the chair across from me, still leaning over the table with his large forearms and big hands. It’s distracting. He’s distracting. “Not what you told me,” he says in a singsong. “Besides, I like Rosalie.”

“I’m so sorry.” “Don’t apologize, Rosalie,” he says, smirking at me as I blush again over the use of my full name.

She knows. I skimmed too quickly; I’m usually pretty good at fake-reading, covering my own ass for years when it comes to these moments. But I’m too nervous around her. She read the list in my file: dyslexia, dyscalculia, ADHD—but no one ever knows how severe the dyslexia is for me, how I struggle to read my hockey schedule, let alone a textbook on biology.

“Okay, well,” Ro says, voice serene. “It’s a requirement to go through these together, for my team. So if you don’t mind, I’m gonna just read them aloud to you.” There’s no way in hell this is a requirement from her team—now

But she’s lying because she wants to help me. Without embarrassing me or calling me out. “Okay.” I nod, swallowing tightly. “I’m listening.”

Yes, before class. I’ll go over everything for the pretest again. STUDENT That sounds like cheating… I love it. RO It’s not. Just test prep like I would with any student. See you tomorrow. STUDENT Aren’t you going to ask how I got your number?

have to ask.” I stop her, my hand grabbing her wrist as she’s started to leave. “Why the hell are you dating that asshole?” Her cheeks turn darker. “That’s an inappropriate question to ask me. I’m your tutor. And your TA,” she stammers. There’s a dangerous thrill zinging up my spine, distracting me from the dwindling crowd around our professor and my actual reason for staying after class. Making Ro blush and stammer might be a new favorite pastime of mine—great for me and my desperate need for distraction; terrible for her and my grades.

“Besides.” His hand tugs lightly at one of my springy curls that’s fallen in his way. “I love a challenge.” I jolt back, pulling away from his sudden closeness. “You have to stop.” “Stop what?” he asks, expression suddenly innocent despite the flicker of excitement still clear in his emerald eyes. “Y-you—” I huff, shoving my curls back off my neck. “You know what! The… that thing!” I point at him, my voice still nothing but a harsh whisper. “The flirting. I need to focus.” “Am I distracting you?”

But I don’t feel overheated or unsure of how to respond. Instead, I feel… comforted. Truly at peace, with his arms holding space for me. “You okay?” he finally asks, relaxing back. “Yeah.” I nod.

I’m barely inside the house when I decide to text her. FREDDY Hey, are you okay? PRINCESS Didn’t peg you for a worrywart, Dad.

PRINCESS Thank you for checking on me, Freddy, but you don’t need to worry about me. FREDDY I do need to. How else am I going to pass my test?

FREDDY Let’s play twenty questions. Favorite movie? PRINCESS I should probably get some sleep, but Ever After. I don’t know it, but I immediately search for it on my phone, trying to figure out where I can stream it, debating asking her to come watch it with me, my constant want for relief of loneliness beckoning yet again. FREDDY I don’t have a favorite, there’s too many. This time, the wait is too long between messages and I impulsively call her, a little shocked when she answers on the second ring. “Hello?” “I figured this is easier for me to ask all my questions and get all my answers in real time. I hate texting.”

“If this movie sucks, I’m going to be very disappointed, Rosalie.” “Wait—which movie?”

“Ever After, your favorite one,” I say with inflection, like her question is ridiculous. “You’re watching it? Right now?” “Just queuing it up—but I want to talk to you first.” I try to keep my timbre calm and quiet, matching her sleepy tone. “Unless I woke you up.”

She asks me for someone I look up to. I tell her Archer, one of my dad’s coaches, and Rhys. I ask her for her favorite thing to do, and she tells me about her fashion projects and affinity for sewing. “Will you make me something?” “Maybe, if you pass biology.”

“Hey,” he says sheepishly. “Sorry.” “For dancing in your own kitchen?” I press a hand to my chest. “Apology accepted.”

I already like her, want to be a friend to her. I’ve never really felt comfortable around a girl enough to want to be her friend, but this feels warm and safe. I want to see her around, more than tutoring. And… I think it could be good for her, too.

“C’mon, Rosalie,” he says. “I like stupid stuff.” I roll my eyes, but my expression quickly changes to a pleased smile, because as usual when I’m around him, I feel more at ease. “Okay.” I tuck my hair back again, nervous energy crawling up my spine, making me jittery in my seat as I lean forward. “Let’s say, hypothetically, that you were dating a girl for a few years.” He crosses his arms. “All right. Hypothetically, am I in love with this girl?” “Um, I think so?” “You think so? Sounds like something you should be certain about.”

“So, hypothetically—” He raises his hands. “Of course, hypothetically.”

I even stop to grab an iced dirty chai and a black iced coffee for myself—as if bringing her a treat might soften the blow of her disappointment once I show her the test results. I want the smile her go-to drink order will bring her before the inevitable letdown.

“You okay?” “Me? Yeah. Fine,” she says, but her voice is shaky. “Why?” I shrug. “Just checking.” I hand her the sweating plastic cup with a smile. She takes it, confusion wrinkling her brow. “What’s this?” “Iced dirty chai. That’s what you like, right?” She looks so confused and mildly upset that a bolt of panic shoots through me. “Did I get it wrong? I’m sorry. I’ll buy you something else at—” She cuts me off. “No, no, no, it’s my favorite. I can’t believe you remembered. Thank you, Matt.”

keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For there to be something to offset the pure luck of having Ro on my team, that she’s truly on my side—that she cares so deeply about what I understand that she truly wants to help me.

I make a vow then to protect her, the pretty girl with butterflies in her messy curls, even if she’ll never really be mine.

“S-sorry,” I choke out, the word mushed with a sob. “Shit,” a deep, soft voice curses before cool hands brace on the overheated skin of my biceps. “Ro?” Matt Fredderic.

“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just—I’m gonna call an Uber—” “No, Rosalie.” Freddy runs a hand down his face. “And don’t apologize anymore. I’m giving you a ride home.” The girl with him doesn’t look angry, only confused and concerned.

The driver’s-side door opens and Freddy hops in, suddenly handing back two personal-size pizza boxes to me. “One cheese and one supreme—I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I grabbed both.” I blame my multiple breakdowns for how quickly tears start to gather in my eyes at the kindness of it. He didn’t ask if I’d already eaten, didn’t ask if I wanted anything… he just did it. For me.

When he backed up, he lifted his arm to rest on the passenger headrest, looking over his shoulder and giving me a wink before concentrating on the steady stream of weekend traffic. His muscular thighs are obscenely on display again in shorts, and spread enough that I can see where the side of his right one presses hard against the center console. And that damn butterfly… He checks the rearview mirror often, eyes meeting mine like quick check-ins. And for every tentative smile I give him, he repays me tenfold.

I can’t help the beaming smile and wave I shoot his way from my spot three rows up. His brows dip before his eyes meet mine and a bright, breathtaking grin spreads across his face, deepening the lines in his cheeks. He skates a little closer to the glass and taps it with his stick with a wink.

“You’re screaming at a girl in public—I think that makes this everyone’s business,” he says before flicking his frighteningly bright eyes toward me. “You okay?” I nod. “Do you want to keep talking to this loser?” “Fuck off,” Tyler growls, trying to yank himself away from the force field of a man in front of us. “My girlfriend is fine.” The guy’s golden eyes swirl with mirth—not with anger, but like a gladiator with the spectators chanting more! He grips Tyler a little harder before yanking him away from me and slamming his back into the brick. “Now you’re just pissing me off.”

“He, um… They left. Tyler drove me here, but I—” Her voice breaks off into a rough sob, one it’s clear she was trying to swallow before it escaped. A curse falls from my lips as I kneel completely and crawl to her, pulling her up and folding her slender form into my body. “Shh,” I coo. “You’re okay.” I stroke her back as we both kneel on the concrete. I try to give her as much time as she needs in my embrace. How many times have I wished for exactly this? For someone to give me simple affection and ask nothing else of my body? True comfort.

And not just for how good it feels to be needed, but for how it feels to be needed by someone like Ro. Because I respect Ro; I look up to her, like a role model. She is kind and welcoming, helpful—and there’s no ulterior motive. She’s creative and strong and independent. She’s nothing like me. She doesn’t need other people’s praise to feel like she’s worth something. Doesn’t need pretty words to drown out the echoes of the ugly ones always shouted in my dad’s voice. Ro doesn’t need anyone. But right now, she’s in my arms and I’m the one giving her comfort.

“Your girl okay, Freddy?” Coach asks, brushing a hand through his short, well-kept beard. His stance is serious, face displaying zero hints of how he feels, as usual. “She’s my tutor. And she got left here. Is there any way I can ride back with her? I don’t want her to go alone.”

I shake my head against him, but he presses a surprising kiss to my hair and only holds me harder. “It’s okay. The lights are off—everyone’s sleeping or got headphones in. You’re fine, cry if you need to. I’ve got you.” I believe him.

But I’d lived entire lives, thousands of them, in books. And part of me always imagined what falling in love would feel like.