Ex, Stop Acting Like My Boyfriend!

You think you've had an embarrassing day? Let me tell you how mine imploded during a lecture.
I'm Ava, barely passing a class I hate. To skip it, I hired a substitute. Simple, right? Wrong.
When the professor called my name, a guy stood up. The professor asked, Ava Duffer is a man?
My substitute smoothly replied, "I'm her boyfriend, recording the lecture."
Just as I cringed, another person stoodmy actual boyfriend, Jonathan Croft, the CS golden boy.
Calmly, he said, "Actually, I'm her boyfriend. So who are you?"
The room erupted. But they didnt know this "real" boyfriend had told me my art dreams would leave me "rotting in the gutter" a month earlier.
In the silence, I turned to Jonathan and announced, "Didnt we break up? My new boyfriend and I have better things to do."

1
Id been sitting motionless in the university art studio for ten hours when my roommate called.
"Ava, you have to see the campus gossip blog! You're famous! Hahaha!" Her voice crackled with amusement. "Seriously, though, you should probably go talk to Jonathan."
My fingers, stiff and aching, fumbled with my phone. At the top of the blog was a video of the whole disaster.
The professor calling my name.
The substitutes confident "Here!"
The professor's suspicion.
The substitutes brilliant, disastrous lie about being my boyfriend, painting me as some diligent student.
And then, the grand finale: my actual boyfriend exposing the whole charade.
The comment section was a wildfire.
[Did the CS golden boy just get cheated on? LMAO]
[That dude is 100% a hired sub. Epic fail.]
[He thought on his feet, gotta give him that. Too bad he picked a girl whose boyfriend was literally in the same class. Ouch.]
My vision swam. I pulled up the chat with the substitute.
[YOU NEVER MENTIONED YOU WERE A GUY!]
This was a major-specific course. The professor knew most of the students by sight, even if not by name. The plan had been simple: a girl, wearing a mask, sitting in the back. The professor would never have noticed. I saw the gender on his profile was set to 'female' and didn't think twice. Big mistake.
He replied instantly.
[I'm so sorry! T_T It was my first time doing this, I didn't know the protocol. (? ?`)]
[I just panicked! I had no idea your boyfriend was there! ? ?_? ?]
[I explained everything to him afterwards, no misunderstanding! ?^???^?]
[Seriously, I feel awful. Let me buy you dinner to make up for it? (?n?)]
I closed the chat with a sigh.
This was bad. Jonathan was going to be furious about me skipping class again.
We'd had a massive fight about this a month ago and hadn't spoken since.

3
Jonathan and I grew up next door to each other. He was always ruthlessly self-disciplined, while I was a professional daydreamer. While other kids were playing outside, he'd be forcing me to do my homework, his face set in a serious frown.
"This is wrong. Write it out ten times."
It was torture.
In high school, he arranged for us to be desk partners, pushing me every single day.
"You have to work harder, Ava. We're going to Blackwood University together."
When he said it, a faint blush would creep up his usually cool, composed features. He always emphasized the "we together."
For those two words, I studied until my eyes burned.
And we both got into Blackwood's top-ranked Computer Science program.
My parents cried with joy, declaring that Jonathan was a gift from the heavens. If it weren't for him, they said, I would've gone astray and ruined my future.
On the day the acceptance letters arrived, everyone was beaming.
But under the blazing July sun, I felt like I was encased in ice, trembling uncontrollably.
Because in the list of majors I had painstakingly submitted myself, Computer Science wasn't even an option.
And my grades were far too high to have been placed there by chance.
Someone had changed my application.

4
From day one of university, I knew I hated coding. The rigid rules, the suffocating logicit was all just gray. I started skipping classes, secretly teaching myself to paint in the university's art studio. I didn't dare let Jonathan know.
But you can't hide from the truth forever.
When he found out I was skipping his beloved CS lectures for art, his brow furrowed into a familiar, disapproving line.
"That's a waste of time," he said, his tone as severe as my parents' had been years ago.
The huge fight last month, the one that led to our current cold war, was because I'd submitted an application to transfer my major to Fine Arts.
Jonathan was furious. He said I was being reckless, irresponsible with my future.
In that moment, a profound exhaustion washed over me.
I didn't have the energy to try and make him understand anymore.

5
I opened my chat with Jonathan. Our last messages were from a month ago. I hesitated, then typed.
[Jules, guess what today is!]
No reply.
I sent another.
[If you don't guess right, you owe me a kiss.]
An hour later.
[Okay, fine, I know you're just pretending not to know so you can get that kiss.]
[It's World Oceans Day! We should get dinner to celebrate!]
[Where are you? I'll come find you~]
Frustration started to bubble up inside me. I was practically waving a white flag, and he was still ignoring me.
I ate my dinner in the campus dining hall with one hand, my other thumb endlessly scrolling up our chat history, waiting for his name to pop up. The Wi-Fi here was spotty, and I was terrified Id miss his reply.
I stretched a single meal out for over an hour.
Silence.

6
I finally caved and texted Jonathan's roommate, who told me he was at the lab. When I got there, he was hunched over a keyboard, debugging code, his focus absolute.
I waved, my voice overly bright. "Jules!"
His head snapped up, his eyes meeting mine for a fraction of a second before he quickly looked away, feigning indifference.
"What are you doing here?"
I wrapped my arms around his, planting a quick peck on his lips. "Jules, don't be mad anymore! I was wrong, okay?"
A faint pink dusted his ears. The icy composure melted away, replaced by the soft warmth of a winter sunrise.
"Hmph," he grunted, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips. "Wrong about what?"
"...Let's go get dinner. You have dark circles under your eyes. You pulled another all-nighter coding, didn't you? You probably forgot to eat."
I tried to change the subject. Honestly, I didn't think I was wrong at all.
His expression went blank again.
"Excuse me," a sharp voice cut in. I turned to see Millie, a girl Jonathan often teamed up with for competitions. She gave me an apologetic smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"We can't really leave for dinner just yet. We've got a major competition deadline coming up, and Jonathan and I need to grind this out. Sorry, but he can't go with you."
She added, "I ordered takeout, it'll be here soon. You want to stay and eat with us?"
There was a subtle arrogance in her tone that rubbed me the wrong way, but Jonathan had told me how important this competition was.
"It's okay, I don't want to bother you guys." I turned back to Jonathan. "Jules, I'll catch you when you're not so busy, then."
He gave a noncommittal "Mm."
Millie smiled brightly. "Alright, see you around!"
The last thing I saw before the lab door clicked shut was Jonathan and Millie leaning in close together, their heads nearly touching as they debated a line of code.
A sour knot formed in my stomach.

7
Jonathan seemed to be in a perpetual state of "busy."
Another month passed after that day at the lab. He never messaged me. His roommate said he was practically living in the lab now. Ever since we started university, it had been like this. Always too busy to reply, and certainly too busy to reach out first.
In that month, I lost myself in my painting and didn't contact him either.
The result? We hadn't exchanged a single word.
It was hard to believe we were even in the same program. It felt like we lived in different worlds. He was busy chasing GPA points, research grants, and competition trophies. I was busy skipping class to paint.
He was a campus legend, drowning in awards.
I was a campus ghost, drowning in failed assignments.
When did we drift so far apart?

8
I finally broke the silence and called him.
While the phone was ringing, a notification popped up in my dorm's group chat. My roommate had shared a link to an article.
It was about Jonathan and Millie winning first place in their competition. The photo showed the two of them on stage, accepting the award. They looked radiant, perfectly matched.
My roommate tagged me: [@Ava your boyfriend is amazing!]
Before I could reply, another notification appeared. A recommended article from a news app.
[Power Couple of CS Department Fast-Tracked for Grad School...]
I slammed the "dislike, show less of this" button, but a wave of sadness washed over me anyway.
Suddenly, the call connected. Jonathan's tired voice came through the line.
"What's up?"
My mind was still stuck on that headline. A childish sense of grievance welled up.
"Jules, why haven't you talked to me? I just saw"
"Busy," he cut me off.
"...Well, do you have time to grab dinner with me?"
"Where."
"Just the dining hall. It won't take long. Five o'clock?"
"Fine."
"See you there?"
"Yeah."
He hung up.

9
I waited at the entrance of the dining hall for an hour and twenty-one minutes.
Jonathan finally appeared, a silhouette against the deepening twilight.
"Sorry," he said. "Something came up."
I opened my mouth to ask, Couldn't you have sent a text?
But I swallowed the words. I didn't want to ruin the first meal we'd shared in ages.
I went to get my favorite spicy noodle bowl while he got his usual rice platter from the no-line counter. He always ate that because it was fast. For a prodigy like him, even eating was a waste of time.
By the time I brought my steaming bowl to the table, he was already halfway done.
He glanced at my food, his brow tightening for a second, but he said nothing.
The broth was scalding. I meticulously picked out the cilantro and green onions. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jonathan lift his wrist and check his watch.
First time, I counted silently. It was a habit of his, one hed had since high schooltiming how long a meal was taking.
When he finished his plate, he checked his watch again.
I pretended not to notice his growing impatience.
"Jules, guess what?" I said, trying to sound cheerful. "There's a small art exhibition on campus, and even though I'm not an art major, one of my paintings was selected! I was so"
He glanced at his watch a third time.
It was like every second he spent with me was an agonizing waste of his precious, brilliant time.

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