34
I ’ m restless and twitchy. The sheets are pulled unnaturally tight, binding me like an ancient mummy. Damp and claustrophobic, I manage to free my arms and stare up at the plaster ceiling, replaying the night.
Caleb joined us for dinner this evening. While Dad was initially hesitant about my soulmate, there’s no one Caleb can’t charm. All he had to do was feign ignorance about Marvel and he had Dad eating from the palm of his hand. Dad would never say it, but I know this is going to make the news easier to swallow.
I can’t stop thinking about my decision to stay. If this is really fate, then why do I feel such a deep ache? A sadness for the life I’m leaving behind? I’d been so excited about meeting The One that I never registered the reality—that my life would completely change from here on. I’d potentially have to uproot entirely, leaving Dad, my aunts, Brandon and Brian.
I toss and twist, pretzeling myself into every position—to no avail. It doesn’t help that Mei is snoring and mumbling about ETFs and TFSAs in her sleep. When I finally accept that I’m not falling asleep anytime soon, I pull on a cardigan and tiptoe past the living room, out the front door.
The plan was to take a short walk to stretch my muscles and tire myself out. But instead, I pad down the steep stone staircase to the beach, the glittering lights a beacon along the jagged cliffs. The salty breeze wafting in from the sea has cooled the air. It’s quiet without the tourists and traffic. There’s only the flutter of leaves, the distant chirp of crickets, and the gentle lull of the frothy waves lapping against the pebbly shore. I sit, squishing the cool sand between my feet, and take in the briny aroma of the sea.
A figure catches my eye in my periphery. There’s someone sitting in the sand to my right, partially hidden behind a folded-up beach lounger. The dark, mussed-up hair is a dead giveaway. It’s Teller, sitting with his legs pulled to his chest, gazing out at the vast sea stretching before us.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” I call out.
I expect him to jump, but he doesn’t appear surprised by my presence. “Nah. What’s keeping you up?” he asks, moving from behind the lounger to sit next to me.
Oh, just everything. No big deal. “Aunt Mei was talking in her sleep,” I say. “A lot of finance jargon. Sounded like a nightmare, if you ask me.”
“At least I never brought up equity and audits while we were rooming together,” he says with an impish smile. The moonlight plays over his features, casting a subtle glow over his profile. My gaze locks on his full lips, absorbing every word.
“I used to dream about you staying in town for college and us getting an apartment together,” I admit.
“Really?”
“Back before you decided you were leaving. When it was all kind of up in the air. I wanted to get one of those cute places with stained glass windows near the west edge of campus, one of the walk-ups. I remember driving by when we were in high school and seeing college kids hanging out on their balconies, feet resting over the railing. I thought they were so cool, so free.”
Teller smirks. “Little did you know, college is almost worse. The cooking, cleaning, never-ending schoolwork. And the student debt.”
“Right? I foolishly thought it would be just like working at The Cinema, but better because we’d get to goof off all the time, drive to campus together, grab fast food on the way home. Make blanket forts in the living room for study dates. Throw candy at each other while we work. It would have been fun, in an alternate universe.”
He smiles one of those smiles that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Though you’d probably get sick of me pretty quick,” I say, the cool pebbles settling between my toes.
“What? No way.”
“You would,” I argue. “I’d probably leave toast crumbs on the counter. I’d probably be too lazy to put a new garbage bag in the trash bin. And I’ve never been good at unloading the dishwasher. Ask my dad. I’d be kind of a gross roommate, really.”
“Why do you always do that?”
I blink. “Do what?”
“Talk about yourself like that. You’re always putting yourself down. And I know you’re half joking, but sometimes I think you actually believe it.”
I consider that. “Sorry, I don’t even notice I’m doing it anymore.” I used to be the most confident kid in the room. But I’ve just felt lost. Untethered.
Maybe that’s why I’ve always gone for the Calebs, Tims, and Mark B.’s of the world—the alpha types that seem out of reach. It felt nice to be validated by someone like that. I thought maybe some of that confidence would rub off on me. If they’re so sure of themselves, that must mean they’re sure of me .
“I guess it feels ... safer to point out my insecurities before someone else has the chance to.”
“There is absolutely nothing you should be insecure about,” he says, eyes latching on mine.
Well, shit. Why does he always have to disarm me like that?
I pull my gaze away abruptly, terrified he’ll see right through me. “So you’re talking to Sophie again?”
He pauses, a little thrown off. “Uh, yeah. Here and there. She actually asked me to talk when I get back.” I think back to the look of devastation on his face the night he picked me up from the frat party, the night he told me about their breakup. This has to mean everything to him. This is what he so desperately wanted, another chance.
“Do you think she wants to get back together?” I dare to ask.
He bites his lip. “When we broke up, she said there was nothing left to say. That cutting ties would be the easiest thing to do. So wanting to talk is a development.”
I search his face for any sign of hope, but he keeps his expression neutral, probably to avoid disappointment. I should be happy that things may work out between them. For him. It would be selfish not to since I’m staying here with Caleb.
Still, my stomach curdles. It feels inevitable that Teller will get back together with Sophie. This whole trip will be a distant memory, just like our friendship, fading into the rearview. Because how could it ever be the same now that real feelings are involved?
I slide my feet up, bringing my knees to my chest for warmth. “If you guys get back together, our friendship would be over, wouldn’t it?”
He shakes his head, confused. “No. Why would that mean our friendship would be over?”
“Because. We hooked up. Twice.” When I say it, my mind is inundated with flashbacks. Him hovering over me in the darkness. The safety of his weight. My fingers running down his back, feeling every ridge of muscle along the way. In my heart of hearts, the hooking-up factor isn’t the reason for the demise of our relationship. Until recently, I was sure we could push past it. But now, it’s become clearer: it’s the feelings, the more-than-friend feelings, that are the real killer.
He shifts his gaze to the water.
Also, Teller would never, in good conscience, keep this secret from her. And I couldn’t blame her for being uncomfortable with our friendship after what happened on this trip. Therefore, our friendship will inevitably end. And I have to be okay with that. I want Teller to be happy.
He resettles, wrapping his arms around his knees. “I’ll tell her it didn’t mean anything.”
My gut twists. I can’t tell if that’s a statement of fact or a lie. Did it mean anything? my gaze asks.
He raises a brow. Did it mean anything to you?
This is the one time I wish we didn’t have the ability to communicate silently. We should talk this through, for real. But like the coward I am, I offer us a way out. “Even if you tell her it didn’t mean anything, she’ll never believe it.”
He rakes his fingers through the sand silently. “She’ll have to.”
I note the tense. She’ll have to. The pit in my stomach expands, and I know what I have to do. I have to let him go. Because if I truly care about him, I won’t stand in the way of his happiness.
“It’s hard to believe it’s our second-to-last day,” Teller says, breaking the long stretch of silence. “You ready for normal life?”
I hesitate. “I don’t know if I’m going back. Not Thursday, at least.”
“Wait, what? Really? You’re staying here with Caleb?”
“Yeah. I’m considering it. Just for a few weeks. Maybe a month? I honestly don’t know.”
“And when you go back for school, what will he do?”
I turn my gaze down. “Well, about that ... I’m actually not going back. I’m going to defer a semester. Maybe even a year.”
He straightens his spine. “Really?”
“I know you think it’s stupid. But I was honestly about to do it before Caleb, before the vision. I’ve just felt so out of place. I hate all my classes. I—” I pause, overwhelmed, unable to continue through increasingly shallow breathing.
He places his hands on my shoulders. “It’s okay, Lo. You don’t have to explain yourself. Just breathe, like we did on the plane.”
I take a few moments, practicing Teller’s technique. Count to seven, and slowly let it out for seven.
My breathing gradually goes back to a steady rhythm. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“No, really, though. I should have told you earlier.”
“Why didn’t you?” he asks.
“Because I was embarrassed. I didn’t tell anyone. Not even my dad. I thought you would think it was a rash decision and try to change my mind. Everyone’s said that if I stick with it, I’ll find something I love. And I really tried, but there’s just something about college ... about the lectures and the studying, the labs, and all the freakin’ theory. I’d rather be doing something, you know?”
“I get where you’re coming from,” he says evenly. “You were iffy about it even when we were applying in high school. Maybe it does make sense to take the year and figure things out.”
I’m taken aback. “I thought you’d argue with me. Tell me it’s the worst idea you’ve ever heard.”
“It gives me anxiety, for sure. Not the deferral, but you staying here.”
I huff. “You’re telling me. This is the guy who left me in Florence. How do I know he won’t do it again? Leave me in some random city? And this time, you won’t be there.” I realize that’s a huge reason I’m so uneasy—the prospect of Caleb leaving me again.
“I don’t think he’ll do it again, Lo. And if he does, you come home. Call me and I’ll pick you up from the airport.”
“Thanks, Tel. I just hope this is the right choice.”
“If there’s any reason to travel around in a foreign country, it’s to be with the love of your life.” I can tell he’s being genuine. I don’t know why I’m surprised that everyone is on board with me staying (well, we’ll see about Dad). All signs point to this being the right choice. Maybe I’m just looking for excuses to buck against the course charted for me.
“Fate,” I finally say.
His mouth curves up in the smallest smile. “Exactly. Fate, or something like it.”
“But if it’s really fate, why doesn’t it feel easy?”
“ Nobody said it was easy, ” he says, bumping his shoulder into mine.
I roll my eyes at him. “You did not just quote Coldplay lyrics to me.”
“I absolutely did. Coldplay is basically required listening for an existential crisis.”
He’s not wrong. It weirdly suits my mood. I start singing, entirely out of tune.
He smiles and we sing in unison, humming the “ Ooohhhh ohh ohh oh ohhhhhh ” part until our voices grow hoarse. Eventually, we run out of breath and fall back in the sand in a fit of giggles, staring up at the glittering sky.
Teller taps my pinkie with his. “Well, we should probably head back,” he whispers.
I latch my pinkie around his, both our eyes glancing down at our tattoos. “Can we stay? Just five more minutes?”
We stay for ten.
I soak it all in, every second. The sound of the water lapping against the sand. The distant squawk of birds. The buzz of traffic. The grainy sand in my hair, my neck, down the back of my shirt. The way he looks at me with that quintessential Teller half grin I tried so hard to capture in our painting class.
I want to remember it. Savor it. Because after he goes home, things won’t ever be the same.