Colton looks at me with disgust. "You've been using me as a guinea pig this whole time."
"No, no, no," I say. "It's a literature review. It's all from books. It's just a review of existing research. There's nothing in there about you or anyone on the team. I promise."
"You promise?" he asks, laughing bitterly. "Well, then, as long as you promise, I definitely trust you."
"I wanted to tell you," I say.
"I've spent how much time with you this summer?" Colton asks, his voice angry. "And you never quite found the time to mention what your thesis was on?"
"You never asked."
"So it's my fucking fault I didn't ask whether you were doing a case study on me? Yeah, fuck me for just assuming that's not something you'd do."
"It's not a case study," I protest feebly. "I – I didn't know you, not really, when I started writing it. So I didn't mention it then. And then the longer it went on and I didn't tell you, the bigger it got. I didn't want you to hate me."
"Well, not telling me was a great fucking way to make sure that happened," Colton says. "Was the whole 'I don't know anything about football' a lie, too?"
"What? No," I blurt. "I didn't know anything about football. Or you. Shit, Colton, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I know it looks bad."
"You have no idea how it looks," he says, picking up his t-shirt from the bed and sliding it over his head.
"I didn't know anything about you when I met you, Colton." Oh, God. The look on his face – hurt and betrayal – is like a punch to the gut. I think I'm going to puke.
"It's not even what you wrote," he says. "It's the fact that you've been hiding it this whole time, lying to me. What the fuck else are you lying about?"
"Colton, I'm not –"
But he turns around and walks out the door.
* * *
"Why are you sitting here in the dark and –" Sable stops short inside the apartment door, Tank standing behind her. "Oh shit, what happened?"
"Nothing," I say, sniffling. "I mean, it was my fault. Colton left."
"When it comes to Colton, there's no way anything was your fault," Tank says. "Are you sure he didn't fuck a cheerleader or something?"
"Jonathan!" Sable says.
"What? If they broke up, it would be because of that, not something Cassie did."
"Not helping at all," Sable groans, slapping him on the arm.
Tank clears his throat. "You know what, I'm going to just… go get something. Outside."
The door slams closed behind him.
"I should have just told him before, like you said," I say.
Sable sits beside me on the sofa, taking my hands in hers. She reaches up and wipes her thumb under my eye. "Your mascara is all over your face, honey," she says. "You told him about the thesis?"
I shake my head. "Worse. He found it," I say. "I left my notebook on my desk. It was a copy I printed out to proofread. I didn't even think about it. And he must have moved the notebook or dropped it on the floor or something, and I came out of the shower and he was just standing there."
"And he read it?" Sable asks. "Okay, that's not so bad. I read it. You're not ridiculing him or his sport or saying that football players are compensating for small penises or anything."
Even though I'm upset, I can't help but snort. "Yeah, I'm definitely not saying that."
"What did he say?"
"He only read part of it, the beginning of the literature review – you know, theories about aggression being compensation for a fragile masculine identity, and –"
Sable groans. "Okay, that part's not the greatest," she agrees. "So he thinks you're talking about him and you secretly have disdain for him."
"Yes, exactly."
"And that you've been secretly using him as an 'in' for insight into the mind of football players so you can write your thesis."
I nod.
"And that you knew that when you started tutoring him," she goes on. "And tutored him under false pretenses, which makes you a lying liar who lies. And then slept with him on top of that, which would just make you a ho-bag."
"I'm clear on my list of offenses, thanks, Sable," I state, my voice hard. Then it breaks, because my eyes tear up and I can't stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. "I'm an awful person."
Sable puts her arms around me. "Oh, sweetie, you're not at all," she says soothingly. "You just made a mistake. I'm sure he's going to think about it and realize that you're not any of the things he's assuming."
I shake my head. "It's the end of the summer anyhow. He's going to be playing and it was going to be over anyway. He so much as said that."