Free The Art of Letting Go (The Uni Files) by Anna Bloom

I would have happily given you every bit of myself.”
    I link my fingers between the buttons on his shirt.
    He leans back in. “So why didn’t you?”
    His voice is so low against my ear, I can barely hear it over the wild pounding of blood in my ears.
    “Because I don’t want you to be the other man,” I confess as my eyes look right into his.
    “I think I like that,” he says.
    “You’re not the other man,” I say louder than I expect.
    He crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for me to continue. I don’t. I just kiss him some more.
    7th October
    It’s Sunday. Yippee! A day of rest and recuperation.
    I spent the whole of yesterday locked in my Guinea Pig cage, grinning like a crazy girl. I could not leave my cage due to the insane grin I found impossible to wipe off my face.
    Ben sang to me in front of everyone = silly grin.
    Ben has made it clear he has serious intentions towards me = silly grin.
    I made it clear to Ben I had serious intentions toward him = silly grin.
    Major make-out in darkened deserted market place = silly grin.
    When I did make it out of my room and into the kitchen, Meredith and Ben looked at me like I was crazy.
    “What are you grinning at?” Meredith asks. She’s nursing a huge hangover. “Nothing,” I say with a goofy smile that gets even bigger.
    “Now what are you smiling at? Do I have toothpaste somewhere?”
    “No, I would tell you.”
    “So now what are you smiling at?” Ben is grinning. His back is turned but I can see his cheeks are lifted.
    “I think I should go.” I shuffle to the door.
    “Yes, do go away, you horribly happy person. Some of us are suffering here.”
    Today I need to go and do some studying. I cannot avoid it anymore. It is me and the library on a hot date.
    The Library of Persecution
    2.00 p.m.
    I hate that frickin’ library.
    Anyone who has ever studied history at an establishment of higher education, knows that history books are always referenced in the nine hundreds. This means top floor.
    There are four floors to the library. I say no more. Actually I do, there is also a rickety old crazy lift, but I would never get in it—ever. I would rather die, which I nearly do climbing up the frickin’ stairs.
    I finally manage to huff and puff my fat arse all the way to the top floor, leaning heavily on the banister. I seriously need to do some exercise or something, not sit about all day drinking wine and smoking fags.
    Once recovered from the near heart attack, I spend a merry half an hour crawling around on the floor searching for the books I need. Just my luck they are all on the bottom shelf.
    I freeze from my rummaging when I hear a gaggle of girls giggling over by the study desk. I didn’t know anyone else was up here. Then I hear a voice I recognise and tense up even more.
    It’s Ben. Ben, who sounds like he is surrounded by girls.
    I try to get to my feet so I can check out the situation. Unfortunately I have been sitting on the floor cross-legged for way too long, and my legs are completely dead. It feels like I have no feet. I actually have to glance to make sure they are still there and have not fallen off somewhere. I see they are still attached, but they are useless hunks of meat.
    Shifting into a crawling position, I inch my way over so I can peer around the corner of the stacks.
    Yep, it is Ben alright, sitting at one of the study desks, legs propped on the table top, looking up through his long lashes at Barbie Girl who is leading a conversation while animatedly waving her hands around.
    What a Shit!
    Were we not on a date two days ago? Did we not have some profound make or break conversation where we discussed feelings and such forth? Did I not spend the whole day yesterday grinning like a nut job as a result?
    Yes we did. So why is he now doing a secret squirrel in the library surrounded by girls? Especially that one.
    I turn myself around and start to crawl back in the opposite direction. By this point my legs are starting to