Chapter 3: THE CAMPUS TURNS

Jules POV

Even the university is turning on me. I'm completely, utterly alone. And the worst part? I'm starting to wonder if they're all right if love really was worth destroying everything I've ever known.

Outside my window, I can hear normal college sounds. Students laugh as they walk to dinner. Music playing from someone's room. 

But inside this tiny dorm room, there's only silence and the growing realization that I might have sacrificed everything for someone who's already given up on us.

The knock on my door is softer this time. Hope flickers in my chest maybe Dad came back, maybe he's reconsidered, maybe.

"Jules?" It's Sierra's voice through the door. "Can we talk?"

I wipe my eyes and stumble to open it. My former best friend stands in the hallway, looking uncomfortable and avoiding my gaze.

"Sierra," I breathe, relief flooding through me. "Thank god. I need"

"I can't do this anymore," she interrupts, finally meeting my eyes. "I'm sorry, Jules. I really am. But I can't be associated with this drama. My sorority presidency, my internship applications I can't have this mess attached to my name."

The last piece of my support system crumbles to dust.

"Please don't do this," I whisper.

"I'm sorry," she says again, backing away. "But you made your choice. Now I have to make mine."

She disappears down the hallway, leaving me standing in my doorway.

I close the door and lean against it, sliding down to the floor as the crushing weight of complete isolation settles over me.

Somewhere across campus, Adrian is probably getting ready for practice, preparing for his meeting with Dad tomorrow, maybe even relieved that our secret is finally out.

And here I am, paying the price for both of our choices.

                                 ******

The walk across the quad to my Communications class feels like walking through a minefield.

I keep my head down, earbuds in even though no music is playing, hoping I can blend into the Thursday morning crowd. It's been eighteen hours since Dad cut me off, twelve hours since Sierra abandoned me, and every step feels like I'm walking deeper into enemy territory.

"There she is," someone whispers as I pass a group of girls sitting on the library steps.

I don't look up, but I can feel their eyes following me like spotlights.

"I heard Coach Rowan kicked her out completely," another voice says, not bothering to lower the volume.

"Good," a third adds. "She had it coming."

My cheeks burn, but I keep walking. Just get to class. Sit in the back. Keep your head down. Survive the next fifty minutes.

The Communications building is mercifully busy, students rushing between classes with their coffee and backpacks. I slip into Professor Martina classroom and claim a seat in the very back corner, pulling out my notebook.

Slowly, the room fills up. I recognize most of these faces. We've been taking classes together for two years. Study groups and group projects and late-night cramming sessions in the library.

But today, something's different.

Mary, who I've shared notes with all semester, walks in and scans the room. When her eyes land on me, she quickly looks away and chooses a seat three rows up. On the opposite side.

Then comes Jessica Park, my lab partner from freshman biology. She sees me and immediately whispers something to her friend, both of them glancing back with expressions I can't read.

One by one, my classmates file in and find seats. Everyone seems to be avoiding my corner of the room like I'm contagious.

"Alright, class," Professor Martina begins, consulting his attendance sheet. "Let's start with presentations for the media ethics project. I need volunteers to"

"Professor," Jessica interrupts, raising her hand. "I need to request a new partner for the final project."

My stomach drops. We've been working together for weeks on a presentation about social media responsibility and privacy rights. The irony isn't lost on me.

"Oh?" Professor Martinez looks surprised. "Is there a scheduling conflict?"

Jessica doesn't look at me when she answers. "I just think it would be better if I worked with someone else."

The professor's eyes flick to me, then back to Jessica. I can see the moment recognition dawns on his face that she has clearly seen the photos or heard the gossip.

"I see," she says quietly. "Jules, are you comfortable presenting alone, or would you prefer to join another group?"

Every head in the room turns to stare at me. Twenty pairs of eyes, ranging from curious to disgusted to pitying. The silence stretches until it's suffocating.

"I'll present alone," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

The class continues, but I can't focus on a single word. Instead, I watch my classmates and people I've known for two years actively exclude me from their conversations, their glances, their existence.

When the hour finally ends, I pack up quickly, hoping to escape before anyone can confront me directly. But as I reach the door, I hear Jessica talking to Maya in the hallway.

"I just can't believe she'd be so selfish," Jessica says, clearly intending for me to hear. "Like, she knew what would happen to the team."

"My boyfriend is on the practice squad," Maya replies. "He says the locker room is completely toxic now. Adrian and Ethan won't even run drills together."

I hurry past them, but their words follow me. 

The rest of the morning is of a similar encounter. In my Statistics class, my usual seat-mate, a girl named Lauren who I've helped with homework all semester moves to sit with someone else without explanation.

In the campus bookstore, the student worker who always chats with me about football suddenly becomes very interested in organizing inventory when I approach the counter.

Even the barista at my favorite coffee shop, who knows my order by heart, serves me coldly  instead of her usual warm smile.

By lunch time, I'm emotionally drained and desperate for somewhere safe to sit. The dining hall feels like walking into a gladiator arena, but I'm starving and my meal plan is one of the few things Dad hasn't canceled yet.