The Nerd Who Played the Game

...

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

"Dumped by the prom queen, and his only comeback is 'congrats'?"

"It ended in a minute. That's cold. Did he crack under the pressure?"

"Nah, he looks way too calm, like he's been counting down to this moment."

The gossip trailed off as eyes darted toward Shannon Seay, who stood there clutching her new boyfriend's hand. Her face was dark with displeasure.

Someone quickly backpedaled. "Hey, we've all seen how obsessed Troy is with Shannon. No way he's truly indifferent. He's probably bottling it up."

Another echoed, "Yeah, I bet he'll come crawling back within three days, begging her not to leave."

Shannon softened a little. "If he comes pleading, I might forgive him. It'll depend on his effort."

I was oblivious to their chatter, focused instead on wrestling my suitcase toward the train station.

If I'd overheard their snide remarks, I'd have just let out a wry, icy chuckle.

My parents had always drilled into me that education was useless for poor people and that working early was a way better choice.

They shredded my hard-earned college acceptance letter. When I protested, my drunkard dad pummeled me senseless.

That was when Shannon's father approached with a generous offer. If I could tutor Shannon to top-university glory, he'd cover my high school bills plus a whopping $50 million bonus.

That was how I ended up shadowing Shannon, the infamous wild child with a penchant for chaos.

For three years, I used every trick in the book to change the arrogant slacker into an academic powerhouse who breezed into an elite institution.

Mission accomplished, I was thrilled to collect my payout and leave. I had no time to care about her new romance.

From the very beginning, my drive was scrabbling out of the abyss of poverty and abuse to forge a path under open skies.

Love was never part of the equation.

I skipped college enrollment altogether, knowing my parents would latch onto me like leeches. A degreed son would have been their golden ticket to endless exploitation.

Escape demanded a clean, irrevocable break.

That sweltering summer, I had been preparing for studying abroad.

My application was approved, and I smoothly got my visa.

As I boarded the flight to Bris, Shannon's reconciliation text arrived.

[Why did you block me on every platform? It's been three months, and you're still throwing a tantrum? Hunter and I are together, but we can still hang out as friends. Quit the drama and unblock me.]

Her message oozed that familiar arrogance. She sounded certain I'd slink back, no matter how she trampled my dignity.

I powered off my phone, yanked out the SIM card, snapped it in half, and flicked it into a nearby trash bin.

Discarded alongside it was every shred of degradation, scheming, and painful memory of my former life.

The plan soared, erasing my past in its wake.

A close friend later filled me in that Shannon had bombarded my socials with frantic comments.

[Enough already?]

[It's just a relationship. Why the overreaction?]

[Get over it and add me back!]

He said, "At first, she was certain you'd come back. When you didn't, she grew restless. Sometimes, just mentioning your name could set her off."