Chapter 11
Julia
My mom walks around the apartment I’m nearly certain is the one, while I hang back to give her space. Her mouth is set in a firm line as she moves from the living room to the kitchen, opening each cabinet like she’s inspecting them for hidden sins.
My phone buzzes in my purse.
Ace: how’s apartment hunting going
I glance toward my mom, who is now inspecting the freaking range hood over the stove. She squints up at it like it’s personally offended her.
“I wonder if this is up to code,” she mutters to herself. She knows jack shit about range hoods or stoves or anything that requires technical knowledge, but she’s certainly putting on a good show of testing the fan.
Me: I mean, I found a place I love, but Georgia is still a skeptic.
Ace: you think you found THE place???
I move my eyes around the apartment, taking in the way the sunlight casts gorgeous shadows across the hardwood floor. Goodness, I can picture myself living here. I can picture myself making this space my own.
Me: Yes. I really want this one.
“Are you sure you don’t want to live at home, honey?
” my mom asks, wringing her hands with nerves as she continues to move around the kitchen, running her fingers across the small butcher-block island in the center of it.
“I’m sure your dad would pay for a driver or even bring you in himself when he’s coming into the office. ”
I smile toward the living room windows and adjacent fire escape without turning around so she can’t see, gentling my response appropriately.
My mom means well in every sense of the phrase—she is kind, generous, patient, and honestly the best mom I ever could have asked for.
She’s not trying to control me or cramp my style or keep me a kid like I know some other moms might be if they suggested I stay home instead of spreading my wings—she’s just a worrier.
She wants the most for me—safety, happiness, success—and is downright terrified of making a decision in opposition to that goal.
For my freshman year at Dickson, I lived in the dorms. Which is still technically moving out, but it’s not as big of a deal as moving out into your own apartment. Which is what I’m trying to achieve right now. I can imagine it’s creating a little bit of an internal crisis for my mom.
Her job for nearly the last nineteen years has been to mold her life around mine, and now I’m just moving on? I get it. It’s got to be hard.
“I’m sure. We researched, remember? This place has a doorman twenty-four hours, good lighting, and is really close to campus. I can walk or, if the weather’s bad, take the subway because it’s right downstairs.”
I also happen to love the arched doors and windows, the hardwood floors, the wainscoting, and the open concept kitchen.
It’s not enormous—this is New York after all—but it feels big.
The landlord doesn’t mind if you paint or personalize, so long as you put it back as it was before you move out, and I like the idea of choosing everything for my own space.
I’ve been looking at places since May, and this is the one. I’m sure of it.
“You’re right. I know.” I look back at her, and she winces. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be a buzzkill, really. You’re an adult, and I respect that. It’s just my lifelong job to worry about you.”
“I know, Mom. But this will be good.”
“Okay. Maybe I’d feel better if one of your friends were living here with you, but I understand you not wanting a roommate. It’s a lot. Even the best of friends can be too much sometimes, and you know I know—”
“Just what do you know, Wheorgie?” a too-familiar voice calls, making me jump.
Cassie Kelly strides in like she owns the place, her giant sunglasses perched on her head and an iced coffee in hand.
I’m used to the Kellys being in close proximity at pretty much all times—hell, I was just texting with Ace—but having them materialize out of thin air seems a little much.
And a little poltergeist, to be honest.
“Cassie? What are you doing here?” my mom asks, evidently feeling the same confusion as me.
“Ace told me you guys were looking at apartments today and says he wants to live off campus too, so I tracked your location.”
“You…tracked… How do you have my location?” my sweet mother asks, her hand to her chest. I, for one, am not even a little surprised, and for as ridiculous as it is, it makes me smile. I never have any doubts about why my best friend is the way he is—the proof is in his DNA pudding.
“Are you kidding?” Cassie laughs. “I’ve had that setting turned on for years. I always know where you are. Always.”
Georgia Brooks is not amused. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”
“Of course I do, Wheorgie,” Cassie says, a proud smile on her lips. “I sound like an intelligent goddess.”
My mother’s best friend has been calling her variations of Wheorgie and Whorge and basically any combination of the word whore and Georgia combined. It’s their thing. Well, it’s Cassie’s thing. Though, I’ve certainly heard my mom drop the nickname Casshead a time or two.
But to prevent any emotional damage, I refuse to ask them where the nicknames came from. I mean, there’re certain things you don’t want to know about your mom. Or your mom’s best friend—even though Cassie Kelly doesn’t hold much back.
“No, Cass.” My mom shakes her head. “You sound like you belong in a true crime documentary.”
“Oh, please,” Cassie says, waving a hand. “It’s for safety. And also because I’m nosy.”
My mom shoots her a look, but I’ve long stopped being surprised by Cassie Kelly’s antics. She’s chaos cloaked in Chanel perfume, and Ace is basically her spiritual clone.
Which becomes even more obvious when he strolls through the door right on cue.
I aim a finger at him. “Of course you were in on this.”
He grins. “You called it the one, Jules. And who am I to deny my mother her God-given right to stalk your mom?”
I roll my eyes at him, but Cassie is quick to take over the conversation again. “You two have been friends since you came out of us. I honestly quite like the idea of you being in the same building.”
Ace nods like this has been the plan all along. “If you’re taking this one, I’ll take the one across the hall.”
“Have you even looked at it?” I ask with a scoff.
“I’m looking at this one. It’s got floors and a kitchen and, most importantly, you. Feels like a win.”
I gawk at him. “That’s your entire decision-making process?”
Ace shrugs like he hasn’t just completely hijacked my solo-living fantasy.
Leave it to my best friend to take my months of research and narrow it down to a split-second decision for himself. I guess he figures I’ve done the legwork, but I can’t imagine being that loose with my future home.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t like the idea of having him close.
I mean, we spend every freaking day together as it is.
But I kind of thought moving in here on my own might give me a little independence going into the school year.
My introspection has been hard at work since I started hanging out with Drew, and after inviting Ace to join us at practically every opportunity, I’m starting to wonder if I’ve become dependent on using him as a crutch.
And things are going well with Drew. I really don’t want to ruin it by being so insecure in my own independence that I’m constantly obsessing over where my best friend is and what he’s doing and wishing he could be there too to carry the conversation more.
Drew’s a great guy—with unfettered interest in me. And he’s the first guy I’ve dated in college. I don’t want to ruin it.
“Lia?” Ace says, eyes searching mine. “You cool with me living across the hall?”
This is it. My shot to say something. To stand up for the very independent woman I’m pretending to be.
“Yeah. Of course.” I smile. “You’re my bestie. It’ll be great.”
Ace beams like I just handed him the deed to the building. “Get your Amex, Cassie. We’re going housewares shopping.”
His mom groans. “Maybe I should assign that to your father.”
Ace snorts. “If you want the centerpiece of the apartment to be a stripper pole, then sure. Grand idea.”
“Say your goodbyes, Acer,” she says, already halfway out the door. “We’re hitting Target before I change my mind.”
Ace pulls me into a hug, warm and familiar. And I let myself melt into it for just a second.
“You good?” he asks quietly, and like magic, I actually am.
Living near Ace will be amazing. Any problems I have with exerting my independence are my own, not his.
“Yeah,” I say. “We’re going to have the best year.”
He kisses my temple and backs away, only half listening as Cassie calls for him again. “There’s a party on campus later,” he says. “You coming?”
“I have a date with Drew.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Another one, huh? That makes three, right?”
“If you count the first one, which I’m not sure we should.”
“It counts. All things interrupted by Gunnar still have to count or none of us would ever have anything, you know?”
I laugh. “True.”
“Well…” He shifts toward the door. “Text me or call if you get done with him…or done with the date…or whatever…and want to meet up. I’m hitting up Scottie, Finn, and Blake too.”
“Okay. I’ll let you know.”
As the door shuts behind him, I lean against the kitchen island and stare at the hardwood floors I love so much and sigh.
It was silly to think there’d ever be a phase of independence anyway. Ace Kelly has a way of making it feel like he’s there even when he’s not, and now, he’ll just be doing it from across the hall.