Fragmented by Eliza Lentzski Page B

. I had the wrong text window open. I'm absolutely horrified.
    It’s okay. It happens. It could have been worse.
    I wanted to destroy my phone because of my mistake, but I needed it to keep apologizing. With any of my friends, I would have been embarrassed, but I could have laughed it off. But I hardly knew this girl.
    While I continued to apologize and try to save face, I ended up missing more texts from Jenn.
    Was that too much?
    Babe?
    Where did you go?
    Are you traumatized or doing something else?
    I hope everything is okay over there, and that I didn't insult you or something.
    Okay, well I'm gonna get to sleep, I guess. Have a good night.
    I sent a text message of goodnight to Jenn before I set my phone to silent and stored it on the bedside table. I probably needed to think of ways to make up for being absent at her grandmother’s birthday, and now I had to add disappearing on her in the midst of sexting to the list of things I needed to apologize for. But for now I was too tired to dwell on my shortcomings as a girlfriend, and I fell asleep.
 
    + + +
     
    The sky was overcast, and from my bed I could hear the continued patter of raindrops against the windowpane. I wondered if it had ever stopped raining throughout the night. It was the kind of day that made living off campus a danger to my GPA. If I had lived in the dorms I could tumble out of bed, pull on a jacket over my sweatpants and T-shirt, and go to class. Having to catch a bus to get to school necessitated that I at least brushed my teeth, although the majority of my fellow CTA riders didn’t do the same.
    The walk from the bus stop to the life sciences building took me only a few minutes, and I arrived at the classroom lab before most of the other students in my class.
    Raleigh was already at the elevated table with her textbook open in front of her on the long lab table. The room’s overhead lights were unflattering to most skin tones, but she looked like she was professionally backlit. She wore minimal makeup because she had nothing to camouflage. Her hair was softly curled and fell to her shoulders. I mentally cursed at my bad luck. Maia had been right; she really did look like an angel.
    “Morning,” I greeted. I slung my bag on top of the table.
    Raleigh looked up from her book and smiled. Her smile was dazzling and her beauty was effortless. “Good morning.”
    The morning was grey and gloomy, but she wore another sundress and light cardigan. Her pale knees peeked out from the bottom hem of her dress. She wore red pumps, which struck me as peculiar. Shoes weren’t a necessity for her; they were a fashion accessory.
    “I like your dress,” I admired. “Is it Anthropologie?”
    “Good eye.” She smiled, but sheepishly looked down at her outfit. “I know it’s a little too dressed up for school, but I went months in the hospital only wearing pants with elastic waists,” she explained. “I’m probably overcompensating.”
    “I think you look perfect,” I blurted out inelegantly.
    Shut up, Harper.
    “You’re not so bad yourself,” she countered with another warm smile.
    I reached into my book bag. “Here’s your psychology notebook back. I also wrote down the lecture notes you missed.”
    “Wow, thank you. You get more charming by the day.”
    My laugh didn’t sound normal to my ears. “It’s not purely altruistic. I’m hoping it’ll help you forget about that text message from the other night.”
    Her lips twisted into a smirk. “What text?”
    I released a long breath. “Thanks.”
    She didn’t ask me for whom the text had been meant, and for that I was thankful. Lies came natural to me—too natural.
    Professor Berry strode into class and our conversation ended. Notebooks were taken out, and I did my best to follow and keep up with that day’s topic and not be distracted again by the girl seated beside me. Mistakes happened when you lost focus.
     
     
    At the end of class, the rain had finally stopped, and I had a