“Please, Simon, drop the pet names. We’re not in high school anymore.”
When the others laid eyes were on us, Simon then introduced me, “This is Nicole Monroe, a sophomore from the Computer Science and one of our club’s senior members.”
I expected him to mention that I was his girlfriend, but he didn’t.
Even when some of the freshmen asked for my contact info, he remained indifferent.
It wasn’t until later when I returned to the dormitory that I realized Simon had caught the attention of several new female students at the event.
“I didn’t sign up for this drama when I agreed to date him.” I was disappointed.
Seeing all the posts about Simon on the Confession Wall gave me a headache. The truth is, the reason I started dating him was that we both got hooked on a role-playing game of murder mystery. I’m the kind of person who would easily invest emotionally, so I fell for the game and the player. When Simon confessed, I just went along with it.
I was still wondering whether I had fallen for the character he played in the game or the real Simon.
Sophomore year hit hard. To avoid getting a lecture from my father during my next visit home, I made sure to attend every class and keep up with my studies.
The school’s schedule was brutal, also rather poorly arranged. After a long day full of classes, I was exhausted and drained. “I need to have a word with Dad about these ridiculous schedules when I get home—such classes are hardly fit for university students.”
Scrolling through short videos on my phone, I was relaxing in bed and watching some muscle-bound men at a nearby bar, when suddenly my roommate, Rosie Ward, from the lower bunk started pounding on my bed frame, nearly making me jump out of my skin.
“Nikki, check this out!”
Without warning, Rosie thrust her glowing phone screen in front of me. The screen showed a picture of a couple kissing.
“Isn’t this your boyfriend? What’s he doing kissing someone else? And why is it all over the Confession Wall?”
I grabbed my glasses from the side of my pillow and immediately recognized the jacket in the photo—it was a high-end, custom-designed piece I had my friend bring back from abroad. There was only one in the world, I had specially ordered for Simon’s birthday a couple of months ago, and now it was worn by the man in the photo. There was no mistaking it—that was Simon.