Chapter Sixteen #2
He reaches over to squeeze my hand. I squish his fingers back, and we sit in silence for a moment. It’s a quiet that swells with our mutual relief, both of us glad that we’re okay again. That the world has returned to its normal axis.
“Can you believe Amalia and George have been dating this whole time?” I say after a while.
Liam shakes his head. “Lucy pressed Amalia for details and found out they almost broke up at the start of the trip, and that’s why things got so weird.”
I tuck my toes under the comforter. “Wild. I do also think the competition put a strain on everyone.”
“We’d be so much better off if we could share our research instead of pitting it against everyone else’s ideas,” Liam mutters.
“What if we just agreed to spend the prize money on something that benefits the whole group?” I suggest. “We share the research, we work together, and the prize money is just for us as a group. Doesn’t matter who wins.”
Liam nods slowly. “I like it.”
“Let’s pitch it to Lucy,” I tell him. “She’ll get everyone else on board.”
He gets up and wraps his arms around me when I do the same. I squeeze his shoulders.
“I’m glad we’re okay,” he whispers.
I nod as we pull apart. “Me too.”
“Love you,” he says, and I return the sentiment. Things might still be far from perfect, but at least this one part of the great series of summer disasters of 2026 has been resolved. It’s finally the proof I need that I can handle keeping my friends close even while clinging to hopes of romance.
Even though those hopes right now feel further away than ever.
—
It’s been hours since Amalia started filling our hotel room with her quiet snores, but I can’t find my way to sleep no matter how many times I toss against the firm mattress of this hotel bed.
My session with Paige keeps replaying in my ears.
The comfort that came with everything she said about how I’m not defined by my diagnosis now falls flat against my ears as I chase the same thought loops in circles around my own brain.
The neon red lines on the nightstand clock blink 3:17 at me.
I’ll never get any sleep at this rate. With a frustrated kick, I toss the thin white blanket off me and slip out of the room.
The bright lights in the hallway are jarring after so long in the dim peacefulness of the bedroom, and I blink heavily as I make my way down the hall toward the exit.
The cool night breeze feels like a relief after the stifled indoor air of the bedroom.
I make my way across the courtyard, my sneaker steps feeling loud against the silence of the deep night.
The moon has reduced to a curved sliver, leaving space for the stars to light up the sky.
I settle on one of the lounge chairs by the pool, breathing in deep the scent of jasmine and tracing the constellations with my eyes.
All the ones I find tie back to the stories told by the ancients, stories that we still echo today.
As always, it’s a comforting thought. It reminds me that there are more than just stories of struggles with love that have lasted through the ages. There are family feuds, clashes in decades-long friendships, and enough mother-daughter drama to fuel centuries of storytelling.
It gives me enough strength to pull out my phone and dial my mom.
“Hi, honey,” she says when she answers. “I’m at a fitting with Lizzie. Isn’t it late where you are?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” I say, my voice breaking at the sound of hers. I hadn’t realized, until I heard Paige say it, how much the idea of being labeled had been weighing on me.
And how much of that came from my parents. From their well-meaning but overwhelming worry.
“You should talk to Paige about it,” Mom says lightly, which gives me the perfect segue into what I was hoping to talk to her about.
“I talked to Paige,” I admit. “It helped.”
“That’s so great, sweets,” Mom says. I can hear the pride bubbling in her voice. “She’s an incredible resource. You should—”
“But I also think it would help if we could talk about her less?” I say, my heart burning against my rib cage as I force the words out. “She says I’m not just my OCD label. That she barely even cares about it. But sometimes it feels like that’s the only thing you see now.”
My hands shake at the weight of spilling all these feelings out loud. But at the same time, I sort of can’t wait to tell Paige later that I found the strength to do it.
Mom is quiet on the other end of the line for a moment, long enough that my worry starts to spike up again. Is she going to be furious?
But then she sighs, her breath crackling on the line between us. “I’m so sorry, Nat. I’ve been worried about you, but I know you’re much more than what you’re dealing with. I love you so much.”
It’s a simple three sentences, but they bring with them all the relief I needed. My shoulders unwind, and I lean back into the lounge chair, staring up at the stars.
“Let’s hear about your trip, then,” Mom says.
“Don’t you have to help Lizzie?” I croak.
“I have some time,” Mom says.
So under the canopy of stars and jasmine, I tell her everything that’s happened this summer so far.