Page 9 of The Heart Breaker

A few hands go up around me.

My pen stills as I watch him move, noticing how the rest of the class leans in, drawn to the sound of his voice. I remember the first time I saw him outside this same building, coffee in hand, tapping his foot like he couldn’t stand still. He was midconversation with another professor, and all I could focus on was how intently he was listening. Not just nodding along, but really listening, his head tipped slightly, his brows pulled together.

Now he’s at the front of the room, talking about survival and childhood, and I keep catching myself noticing things I shouldn’t care about. The way he scratches the back of his head with his pencil. The way his whole face lights up when he starts talking about psychology.

He nods, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Interesting. Most people think personality is just… preference. That you choose the person you become. But what if I told you the roots run much deeper?”

He leans against the edge of his desk. “Research shows that a lot of what we consider personality is actually adaptation. Not conscious choice, but learned responses. We tend to underestimate how much our earliest environments shape our adult patterns.”

For a second, I forget about the whispers behind me.

All I can think about is what he just said.

What about the pieces I never got? The half of my story no one ever told me? What about the people who grow up filling in the blanks?

If all you have are questions nobody answered, is that supposed to be enough?

Are you still real… or just a stand-in for the life you were supposed to have?

He pauses, his blue eyes sweeping the room, and for one uncomfortable heartbeat it feels like they land right on me.

“We inherit more than genes,” he continues. “We inherit expectations. Roles. Rules we never agreed to but follow anyway. And unless we take a hard look at what shaped us, we tend to repeat it. Not necessarily out of choice, but out of familiarity.”

My fingers tighten around my pen, my stomach twisting as every word digs under my skin.

My mom was always good at swallowing her feelings and acting like nothing ever got to her. She always said looking back was pointless. Every time I asked questions, she shut it down and told me not to dredge things up. Is this what I’ve inherited?

It makes sense, I guess, that I walked out of Chase’s place without so much as a glance back. That I blocked his number and moved on.

Maybe I’m more like her than I ever wanted to admit.

But sometimes I wonder if there are other ways I turned out, too. Things I haven’t figured out yet. The thought makes me glance up—just for a second—toward the front of the room before my eyes drop back to the blank page.

The minute class ends, everyone scrambles to pack up. I close my notebook and laptop and slide them into my bag. From the corner of my eye, I catch a group of guys staring at me. One of them elbows the other, laughing under his breath.

I know exactly what they’re talking about. What they’re thinking.

I don’t bother hiding the way I look back at them, waiting for one of them to have the balls to actually meet my eyes. Only one does. He scoffs and mutters, “Crazy bitch,” right before they all start laughing again, loud enough to make sure I heard.

I roll my eyes and toss my hair over my shoulder.

Everyone else is already halfway out the door, but I stay where I am until the room empties.

When the last few stragglers disappear into the hallway and the door swings shut behind them, I finally push back my chair and head down the steps, my heart thudding harder with every row I pass.

He’s bent over the desk, sorting through a stack of papers. His tie’s loosened slightly, the top button of his shirt undone.

I don’t even realize I’m just standing there watching him until he says, “Forget something?”

My mouth goes dry and I shake my head. “No, I just…”

He glances up, one brow lifting slightly. “You have a question.”

“Yeah. I mean… sort of.”

What are you doing, Aurora? I clear my throat, shaking my head. “Um. Sorry. This is probably weird.”

He tilts his head a little, watching me, waiting for me to continue.