Enough | ✔️

+ 9 +

"Are you alright?" I ask Grant as we sit cross-legged on my bed.

It's been a whole day since we found out Hannah lied. I invited Grant back to my dorm after a lecture we had earlier today to keep him company, though to be honest, he is reacting better than I would've if our situations were flipped.

With an indifferent shrug, he replies, "You know. I'm dealing with it."

We settle into a silence. It's as if I can feel his pain more than him, as he runs a hand through his hair indifferently - he must be putting on a brave face. For some reason, I feel so guilty that this happened. Of course it's not my fault, but he sounded so happy with Hannah. Why would she do something like this and lie?

"Do you wanna go get ice cream from the canteen downstairs?" I propose optimistically, the sound of dessert numbing my anger at Hannah.

A nod and ten minutes later, we're seated in the canteen, our tubs of ice cream sitting in front of us. The ice cream sold in this canteen is the kind that's so cheap that there are still stubborn chunks of ice that remain embedded in the dessert.

"I can't believe she'd do that," I repeat for the zillionth time, defeating the purpose of coming here as a distraction from this drama, "I thought the feeling was mutual between you two."

Grant shrugs. He's been quiet this entire time.

"It'll be alright. Get an explanation out of her, you deserve at least that. Look," I point out as Martha-Minced-Meat and her croonies strut into the canteen, fake hair, boobs, and all, "there she is now."

Hannah trails in after the group, sitting with them on their table as they giggle loudly and chew their gum obnoxiously, talking about whatever fascinates their pea-sized brains.

"Let's go, we're getting an answer out of her whether you like it or not," I announce, grabbing his hand, abandoning my dodgy ice cream, and starting to stand up.

Grant quickly pulls me back down with a violent shake of his head, "No, Quorra. I'm fine. We're over now anyway."

"Wait, what? When did you break up with her?" I ask, unable to stop the feeling of being left out of the loop even though I'm not in this relationship.

A look of dread covers his face, "I don't want to talk about it, Quorra. It's over, alright? I should've known this wasn't gonna work..."

I sense a dual meaning behind his words and the suspicious look in his eye, but the ache in my chest is enough for me to disregard it. Poor guy.

"I'm sorry. I'm sure you'll move on when you're ready to, all the girls are chasing after you, eh?" I grin, trying to lift the mood with a nudge.

He breathes out a dry laugh, "Not all of them."

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"P...p....popcorn?" I attempt as Professor Hartley sighs heavily.

"Plosive," he reveals.

I give him a flat look, "How was I supposed to know that?"

We've gone right back to basics with this English course. Apparently my lack of prior knowledge is 'damaging my ability to comprehend at university-level difficulty'. Whatever that means.

"It's a plosive sound, Miss Neversea. And the effect?" he coaxes, gesturing for me to continue as the look of confusion on my face just deepens.

"Yeah, this isn't going anywhere," I break the news as he sighs and leans back against the wall next to his bed, arms crossed.