The Group Trip

Chapter 3

Ten Years Ago

T HE DU FFEL BAG SAT on her bed. It was her second attempt at packing. The first time, she couldn’t get the bag to zip and took that as a sign that it was the wrong decision. But she folded better this time, and when the zipper smoothly connected, she knew she was leaving.

She had tried. She went to class. She ate in the dining hall. Maybe she could have made an effort to meet more people, but nothing felt natural here. Chloe hated forced.

Moving across the country to the bucolic campus of Mayfield College was supposed to be an adventure. Her parents thought she was crazy. But something about the small, southern town nestled in the mountains of Tennessee had called to Chloe. She thought it was where she was meant to be.

But she was wrong. Maybe it was too small. Everyone seemed to know someone or have a distant cousin in common or have gone to the same summer camp. She had finished the first semester, but it was time to admit defeat.

She’d take a few months off and then register for Berkeley next year. It was closer to home and she’d be surrounded by friends.

A group of students walked down the hallway, their laughter drifting past her open door. A sense of longing hit Chloe. She missed laughing. She missed belonging. She was definitely leaving.

A guy Chloe had seen a couple of times around campus hesitated outside her room. “I’ll catch up,” he yelled down the hallway to his friends.

He lingered, his hands holding on to either side of her doorframe as he leaned into her room. “Hi,” he said.

Chloe was immediately struck by how much this person belonged at Mayfield. A bright white smile offset by tanned skin and sandy hair; add a college sweatshirt and he could have been the cover model for the school’s admissions handouts.

“Hi,” Chloe said, adding her duffel bag to the pile of her luggage by the door.

“I’ve seen you. At the student center.”

Chloe nodded. “Makes sense, me being a student and all.”

“I’m Luke,” he said, walking into her room. “I make very obvious observations so that I can talk to beautiful girls.”

“I’m Chloe.” She was unaffected by his compliment, preoccupied with deciding whether she should ship her bedding back or donate it somewhere.

Luke crossed his arms. “That’s all I get? No embarrassing declarations?”

“I don’t embarrass easily. Sorry.”

“Hence the prominently displayed poster of a children’s book.”

Chloe looked at the wall. She had a poster of Where the Wild Things Are hanging above her bed.

“Maurice Sendak was a brilliant illustrator. I have no shame in my love.”

Luke laughed loudly and then flopped onto Chloe’s bed, immediately comfortable in an unfamiliar space.

“What’s with the bags?” he asked, pointing toward Chloe’s pile.

Chloe shifted, unsure how she felt about this stranger in her room but bored enough to keep talking. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

Luke sat up and leaned forward. “Winter break doesn’t start for another week. You’re going to miss all the fun.”

“I’m leaving early,” Chloe quietly explained.

“Homesick?”

Chloe stared at Luke. Then she smiled, grateful not to hear a hint of judgment in his voice. “Something like that,” she said, not explaining more.

“Where’s home?” Luke asked.

“California. Monterey.”

“Never been.” He picked up a candle that she’d smuggled into her dorm and gave it a sniff, smiling, seemingly satisfied with the salt and sandalwood scent.

Chloe perched on the edge of her desk chair. “It’s pretty much the opposite of this place.”

“So, it’s horrible?” he asked.

“No, Monterey is perfect. At least for a lot of people it is. I thought …” A shout of Luke’s name echoed down the hallway. “Never mind.” Chloe stood up and walked toward the door. “You were on your way out. I don’t want to hold you up.”

“Come with me,” Luke said, his hand grazing against her elbow. “Finish your thought.”

Chloe shook her head. “I can’t. I have an early flight.”

“Well, maybe after winter break we could grab some breakfast? I’ll find you. Now that I know where you live.” Luke winked, and for some reason it looked good on him.

Luke started to walk away. Chloe could have let him. But she didn’t. She quickly said, “I’m not coming back. I’m transferring after this semester.”

Luke stopped. It looked like he was going to say something, but he hesitated. Chloe waited for some variation of the same refrain she’d heard dozens of times over the last week about how she needed to stay and give Mayfield a chance. But instead, he walked up to her, their faces inches apart, and his eyes danced as he said, “Then you absolutely have to come out with me tonight. What if we’re soulmates?”

Chloe looked up. “Not possible.”

“Why? You don’t think you can fall for a classically good-looking, brilliant athlete?”

Chloe took a step back, eyeing Luke inquisitively. “What’s your sport?”

“Flag football,” Luke said confidently.

“That’s an after-school activity. Not a sport.”

Luke’s shoulders shook in amusement. “Okay. Maybe I’m not an athlete. But everything else is true.”

“The truly brilliant never feel a need for labels,” Chloe pointed out.

Luke had a giant smile as he said, “You’re not debating that I’m good-looking.”

“No,” Chloe plainly replied. “You’ve clearly heard that description too often for me to waste time debating.”

Luke slipped his hands into his jacket pockets. Chloe caught herself staring, marveling at how this guy oozed confidence with even his smallest movements. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I think you might fall for me, Chloe.”

Chloe stared, batting her eyelashes before whispering in his ear, “Unlikely. I don’t fall for arrogant, delusional boys.”

Luke clutched his chest. “How have I made such a terrible first impression?”

But he hadn’t. After their brief conversation, Chloe was almost sad she wouldn’t see him again.

“You’ve got to let me fix this. Come out with me tonight.” Luke coaxed. “Let’s go have breakfast now.”

“It’s eleven at night. There’s no breakfast.”

“Oh yes there is,” Luke said, grabbing Chloe’s hand. “We’ll go to Waffle House.”

He pulled her out of the room, and she barely had time to grab her jacket. Luke held her hand the entire walk off campus, and even though she wasn’t used to it, she followed him easily. When they arrived in front of the bold yellow and black sign, Chloe saw a few other college kids inside the restaurant. Luke seemed to know most everyone’s name, but instead of joining any group, he found a table toward the back and slid into one of the hard plastic booths. He pulled Chloe in beside him.

“What’s your order?” he asked.

Chloe shrugged. “I’ve never been here.”

“How is that possible?” Luke questioned. “Well, if you’re a Waffle House virgin, do you trust me to order for you?”

“Is this another one of your many skills?” Chloe teased.

Luke laughed and as the waitress appeared he ordered, “Two waffles. One order of hash browns, scattered, smothered, covered.” The waitress nodded and left.

“What was that? Some secret code?” Chloe asked.

“Kind of.”

“What did you order?”

“Waffles, obviously. And potatoes with onions and cheese,” Luke explained.

“Luke!” Chloe heard the shout across the diner and looked up to see a group coming their way.

“Hash browns, chunked and covered,” a boy shouted his order on his way to join them.

“Decode that for me?” Chloe whispered to Luke.

“Hash browns with ham and cheese.”

Chloe shifted closer to Luke as a girl slid next to them in the booth. “Hi. I’ve seen you in Pulaski’s art history seminar. Your hair is amazing. I’m Sloane. You’re smart too.”

The ham and cheese hash browns boy sat on the opposite side of the booth. “You just added the smart thing because of your feminist studies class,” he said to Sloane.

Another girl plopped down, and all of a sudden Chloe was surrounded by Luke and his three friends. She had thought she was going to have another quiet night alone in her dorm, but this was the opposite. Luke wrapped his arm around Chloe’s shoulders as he leaned in and whispered, “That’s Alden,” pointing across the table just as the waitress dropped off Alden’s order of ham and cheese hash browns along with Luke’s order. Chloe looked at the waitress in shock. It felt like magic, the food came out so quickly.

“Sloane already introduced herself,” Luke continued whispering. “And that’s Sloane’s roommate, Marianne,” gesturing to the girl sitting next to Alden. She had smooth brown hair cut into a perfectly even bob and not a trace of makeup, a rarity among Mayfield’s female student population. When Marianne enthusiastically waved at Chloe, even though they were only two feet apart, Chloe liked her immediately.

Sloane reached across the table and plucked a piece of ham off Alden’s plate. “You’re absolutely right, Alden. I’m trying really hard to reprogram the patriarchy out of my daily interactions. But she is smart,” Sloane said, pointing toward Chloe. “She knows way more about Manet than the professor.”

Sloane’s strawberry blonde hair fell in front of her face, and she immediately pulled a rubber band off her wrist and created an effortless updo that looked like it took way more time than the seconds she spent. Unlike Marianne, Sloane’s makeup was expertly applied, not a single imperfection in her kohl eyeliner and peony lips, even though it was the end of the night when everyone tended to look a little smudged.

“It’s Monet. Not Manet,” Alden said, pulling his plate out of Sloane’s reach.

“No, you idiot,” Sloane scoffed. “There are two of them. Claude Monet and Edouard Manet. Maybe if you took classes outside the Engineering building, you’d know that.”

“But Engineering is my cozy home. I will never leave,” Alden said without a drop of embarrassment.

Sloane narrowed her eyes and Alden sat up straighter.

The friends were all so familiar with one another, sharing bites of food and teasing each other about the party earlier that night, that Chloe should have felt uncomfortable. She was the outsider. But she didn’t. Chloe would always remember feeling like she instantly belonged.

“But seriously, Chloe, how do you get your hair to look like that?” Sloane asked. “Do you use a one-inch barrel?” Sloane leaned closer. “Tell me about the products involved.”

Chloe ran her fingers through her long blonde waves. “I don’t think you’re going to like this answer,” she said. “I wash it. Maybe twice a week. And I use conditioner. That’s it. I let it do its own thing.”

Sloane leaned back against the hard restaurant booth. “Ugh. It’s going to be very hard to restrain my jealousy around you.”

Chloe took a bite of the crisp and sweet waffle and then dug into the hash browns. Everyone ate as they laughed about a disturbingly detailed review that had just been posted online about one of their professors. Chloe managed to snag a menu and studied the different hash browns options and the coded words used to describe each order. She wished she’d found this spot earlier in the semester.

“Who brought her?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

Chloe looked up and immediately recognized the boy standing in front of them. His stare made her shift uncomfortably. He was hard to miss on campus, taller and more intense than most. More than once, Chloe had let her imagination run wild, inventing stories about what this mysterious guy was really like.

“I believe what you mean to say is ‘Nice to meet you. My name is Wyatt,’” Marianne suggested.

Sloane was blunter. “Honestly, Wyatt, for an English major, you have a poor grasp of the use of language.”

“Don’t worry, Wyatt. The extra face is only temporary. Chloe’s leaving tomorrow,” Luke said. He looked at Chloe, his eyes begging her to disagree. “Right?”

Chloe stared at Luke, their bodies pressed close together, a welcome consequence of his friends crowding the booth. “Right. I’m leaving tomorrow,” Chloe said after a silence that lasted too long.

“For good?” Sloane asked loudly.

Chloe nodded. “Yeah, I’m going to take the rest of the year off and then transfer to Berkeley next fall.”

“No. We just met. You can’t leave yet.” Sloane said.

“That’s exactly how I feel,” Luke said for seemingly different reasons.

“Let’s break this down and determine whether you’re making an informed decision. Why did you pick Mayfield?” Alden asked.

“Yes. I’m all about this plan.” Luke leaned forward. “Let’s help Chloe remember why she picked our school and then maybe she’ll stay.”

Wyatt was sitting at the end of the table, having found a spare chair. “It’s a top college. Who wouldn’t want to go to Mayfield?”

Chloe smirked because Wyatt’s assessment may have been accurate for residents of the South, but if he wasn’t so moody, he’d probably admit that Mayfield’s reputation wasn’t necessarily nationwide. Chloe was one of the few students from the West Coast.

Chloe didn’t feel the need to defend her decision, but something about Wyatt’s voice made Chloe feel like she’d been issued a challenge she wanted to meet. “Lily Drake. That’s why I picked Mayfield.”

“Who’s that?” Luke asked. “Is she a senior?” Luke looked across the table and Alden shrugged in response.

“I’m embarrassed on their behalf,” Sloane said. “Lily Drake is one of our most famous alumni. She was a painter in the 1960s.”

“I’m pretty sure there are no Drake buildings on campus,” Luke said. “She can’t be that famous.”

“She never got the kind of fame that can buy buildings,” Chloe said quietly. “But I love her paintings. I figured if this place inspired her, it would work for me too.”

“You want to be a painter?” Wyatt asked, never looking up from his coffee cup.

“I don’t know if I’m good enough to be a professional artist. But that’s the dream.”

“You’re definitely good enough,” Sloane said.

“You haven’t seen any of my paintings,” Chloe laughed.

“No, but I’ve heard you in class. You have an excellent eye. You must be amazing,” Sloane replied confidently.

Chloe shrugged. “I love art. I want to be a painter, but I’ll settle for any job that will surround me with beautiful paintings. That’s why I’m leaning toward an art history major. Seems like a safer choice.”

“Aren’t we a little young to be making safe choices?” Wyatt interjected.

“She’s not getting an accounting degree,” Sloane said defensively. “I think it’s a smart idea, Chloe. I’m thinking about doing the same thing.”

Alden narrowed his eyes. “Sloane, your stick figures have misplaced body parts. I don’t think artist was ever really an option for you, but I applaud your camaraderie.”

Sloane replied with a stuck-out tongue.

Chloe couldn’t stop thinking about Wyatt’s comment. Maybe eighteen was a little too young for backup plans. When she looked across the table and saw Wyatt staring intently at her, she shifted in her seat, unsettled by his gaze and his insight.

“Why do you love art?” Wyatt asked, earning an elbow in the side from Marianne.

“Give her a break, Wyatt,” Marianne said.

“I’m just going along with the plan,” Wyatt replied. “Trying to figure out why she’s rejecting our school without ever really giving it a chance.”

“Art makes life less lonely,” Chloe said, feeling an uncharacteristic defensiveness as she tried to answer Wyatt’s question. “Connecting with a painting allows me to understand a stranger’s experience. There’s nothing else that powerful.” Chloe took a bite of waffle before she continued. “And I did give Mayfield a chance. Sometimes you don’t need years to know that something is a wrong fit.”

“Books provide the same connection,” Wyatt said. “And a few months spent sitting by yourself and hiding in your dorm room isn’t giving something a chance.”

Luke laughed. “Wyatt, I have to drag you out all the time. You’re in no place to judge someone for staying in their room.”

Chloe smiled at Luke, grateful for his defense, and then turned her attention back to Wyatt. “Art and books aren’t the same. There is a specificity to novels that limits the audience. Artwork has the potential for universal connection. It’s much more powerful.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Wyatt said.

Luke leaned back in the booth. “Let the battle begin. Art history versus English literature, which dorky major will reign triumphant?”

“I’m certain the economics major cannot call anyone dorky,” Sloane said. “Well, except maybe the engineering and computer science guy.” Sloane pointed toward Alden. “You also need to limit your computer lab time. Your skin is translucent.”

Alden looked at his arm and sighed. “You’re right.”

“ East of Eden ,” Wyatt interrupted. “Steinbeck. Universal discussion of good versus evil.” Wyatt’s eyes were focused on Chloe, clearly wanting to continue their debate.

“Are you serious?” Chloe scoffed. “You think a portrayal of women as evil, tempting the good out of men, has universal appeal? Maybe for that end of the booth.” Chloe pointed at Luke and Alden.

“Burn,” Marianne said, high-fiving Chloe.

Chloe leaned forward as she whispered, “But the Mona Lisa ’s smile? Who hasn’t known a woman with a secret?”

Wyatt shrugged. “But the painting will never tell you what she’s hiding. That’s where books will always win.”

Chloe shook her head. “Not all secrets are meant to revealed.”

Wyatt stared at Chloe, his standard intensity somehow elevated. He raised his eyebrows. “Maybe,” he said.

“Are you giving up that easily?” Luke asked Wyatt.

“I’m too hungry to fight,” Wyatt said. “I’m going to order some food. Anybody want anything?”

Wyatt didn’t wait for an answer as he walked toward the counter, but everyone seemed satisfied with what was already on the table.

“I still don’t get why you’re leaving,” Sloane prodded in between bites of waffle.

“It didn’t fit. I guess I couldn’t find that Lily Drake inspiration,” Chloe tried to explain.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sloane said. “You can find inspiration anywhere.”

“Even in an empty Waffle House at midnight?” Alden said, raising his eyebrows.

Chloe looked around. Most everyone had left. Their table was the only one occupied. Chloe had been so focused on Luke and his four friends that she hadn’t noticed.

“If that isn’t a song title it should be,” Sloane said.

“Someone check the jukebox,” Marianne added.

Luke hopped over the back of the booth. He held out his hand and Chloe accepted.

“Come on,” Luke said, drawing her toward the ancient jukebox in the corner. “Let’s find some inspiration.”

Chloe ran her finger across the old-fashioned peg buttons as she scanned the catalog. It was mostly country, but in the bottom left she found the perfect song. She slipped in a quarter, pressed E-5, and turned back toward the group. As the song started, she found herself half walking, half swaying back to the table.

“Fleetwood Mac,” Luke whispered in her ear. “Pretty fitting. A captivating blonde woman mesmerizing her bandmates.”

Luke wrapped his arm around Chloe’s waist as their bodies swayed together to the music. “I think you could find lots of inspiration here. Are you sure you want to leave?”

Chloe stared into his eyes. “This isn’t the place for me.”

“How do you know?”

Chloe swallowed and answered truthfully. “Because I never worried about fitting in until it became obvious that I didn’t.”

Luke eyed Chloe skeptically. “Maybe you’re just like Wyatt,” he said, gesturing across the room at Wyatt bent over a plate of eggs and bacon. “Giving up too easily.”

“Maybe,” Chloe echoed. And for the first time that night, she second-guessed her decision.

Luke grabbed Chloe’s hand and spun her in a circle under the fluorescent lights of Waffle House. Chloe could feel his tall body pressed against hers. He shook his sandy sun-streaked hair away from his eyes as his arms wrapped tighter around her.

Chloe felt the focused attention of Luke’s friends and spun out of his arms and toward the table. She reached for Sloane’s and Marianne’s hands. “Come on,” she beckoned.

Chloe stepped up onto the table and Sloane followed. Marianne shook her head, but immediately Chloe and Sloane were grabbing her arms, pulling her up to join them. The three of them began singing along, eventually screaming the lyrics as they coordinated ridiculous dance moves. Feeling every beat of the music, Chloe closed her eyes, and when they opened, she was met with Luke’s gaze and his beaming smile.

Wyatt spun around on the counter stool, arms crossed, and shook his head, but Chloe detected a grin. “You three look ridiculous,” he shouted.

“You look jealous,” Sloane replied.

Chloe, Sloane, and Marianne continued dancing, stomping on the tabletop to the rhythm of Fleetwood Mac, the sound of their laughter weaving with Stevie Nicks’s voice.

Then all of a sudden, the music stopped.

“Get down,” their waitress yelled as she held the unplugged cord of the jukebox.

Luke held out his arms and Chloe jumped in. Marianne immediately snaked her body back into the booth and tried to sit normally. Sloane continued standing in the middle of the table, hands on hips.

“Out! All of you!” the waitress shouted. “Dancing on tables like a strip club. This is Waffle House.” The solemnity with which she named the restaurant made all six college students erupt in laughter.

“We’re leaving,” Wyatt said, discreetly leaving a twenty dollar bill on the counter.

“We are so sorry,” Marianne added, unable to make eye contact.

They filed out of the restaurant, trying to look contrite, but as soon as the door closed and the waitress walked back to the kitchen, they all exploded in laughter.

“Chloe, you just got us kicked out of a Waffle House,” Alden said with a mix of shock and pride.

Chloe winced. “Sorry about that.”

“Do not apologize,” Sloane said. “People pass out in Waffle House booths for hours and still don’t get kicked out. What we just achieved is legendary.”

“We should have taken off our shoes before we got on the table,” Marianne added.

Marianne seemed concerned, and Wyatt wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they started walking back toward campus. “Our shoes are not the dirtiest things those tables have seen,” he said.

“Where to next?” Alden asked.

“Chloe has an early flight in the morning,” Luke said. “I should probably walk her back.”

She nodded, feeling sorry for ending the night.

“I want to stay out,” Wyatt said, walking a few steps ahead of the group. “Anybody else?”

“Yes,” Sloane said on a drawn-out exhale, looping one arm through Marianne’s and one through Alden’s. “You lead the way, Wyatt. There’s got to be a party on campus somewhere.”

The four of them walked away, leaving Chloe and Luke alone. Their footsteps slowed, maybe both hoping to extend the walk to Chloe’s dorm as long as possible.

“I’m sorry I got your friends kicked out of your hash browns supplier,” Chloe said.

“Worth it. You are forgiven,” Luke replied.

“If you want to join them, I’ll be fine walking back on my own.”

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” Luke said.

“Okay.” Chloe smiled, not hiding how happy Luke’s statement made her feel. But she did try to hide how much her boots were killing her feet. She paused and lifted her foot slightly, trying to relieve some of the pressure.

Luke looked down and noticed Chloe’s strange movements. “Feet hurt?” he asked.

“Yeah. I must have danced a little too hard. I’ll be fine,” Chloe said, but with each clumsy step, sharp pains shot up her leg. She paused, waiting for her feet to recover.

Luke stood by her side. “Okay, two options. One: we ditch our shoes and run back to campus barefoot.”

Chloe tilted her head. “You shouldn’t have to suffer for my poor choices.”

Luke shrugged. “I’m a gentleman. You go shoeless, I go shoeless.”

“You’re really working hard to fix that first impression,” Chloe commented. “What’s the second option?”

“You can hop on my back and I’ll give you a ride.” Luke’s eyebrows wiggled and Chloe’s stomach fluttered.

“Door number two sounds like more fun,” she said.

“That’s the one I was hoping you would pick.” Luke crouched and Chloe hopped onto his back. He held on to the crook of her knees as he jogged back to campus, occasionally bumping Chloe upward, and constantly making her laugh.

She checked in a few times to make sure his chivalry wasn’t more ambitious than his stamina. “Chloe, I’m fine,” he said, making her feel weightless.

Then he let go of her knees and Chloe slid down his back, grasping for a more secure grip around his neck. “Do not let me fall,” she giggled.

Luke’s broad hands immediately reached around. A round butt cheek in each palm, Luke pushed her up his back until she was no longer falling.

“That was a middle school–level move, Luke.”

“Yep. Worked then. Works now,” he said without embarrassment. Chloe tightened her arms around his neck, her chest pressing into his back. She could smell the eucalyptus scent of his shampoo.

“How’s the view up there?” Luke asked.

Chloe looked around at the night sky, edges of hazy purple mountains visible in the distance, and clear, crisp air all around them. “It’s perfect here,” she said. And she meant it, for the first time since arriving at Mayfield.

Luke stopped at the entrance to her dorm. Slowly, carefully, he spun Chloe around so that she was no longer on his back, but instead they were face to face, her legs still wrapped around his waist.

“Think you can walk now?” Luke asked.

Chloe’s breath disappeared as she managed a tiny nod.

Luke lowered her to the ground, hands trailing up the sides of her body as their mouths finally met.

Sometimes, there’s a fumbling at the beginning of a kiss, mouths finding positioning, noses getting in the way. But not this kiss. Luke’s mouth covered Chloe’s like it was molded to match hers. The only thought in her mind was the electrifying sensation of his perfect lips.

Luke pushed Chloe toward the dorm building, hands on either side of her body, pinning her against the wall as their mouths searched for more of the other. His hands moved up her shirt, around to the back, eventually clawing into her long hair as their faces pressed closer together. In between ragged breaths, Chloe nipped at his lower lip before diving back into his mouth.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow,” Luke groaned.

“I know. But we still have the rest of the night,” Chloe said shyly. She’d never see him again. Maybe that’s why boldness triumphed over the uncertainty bubbling in her stomach. “I think you should come inside,” Chloe whispered.

Luke pulled back, eyes widening, surprise then amusement on his face. He nodded twice and then said, “That sounds good.”

Chloe’s heart raced as she swiped her campus keycard. Luke pushed the door and they both tumbled inside, hands never leaving each other’s bodies as they frantically skipped down the hallway to Chloe’s room.

She fumbled with the lock on her door, and within seconds they were stumbling past Chloe’s bags and toward her bed.

She froze for a moment, still unsure what she was doing. This tall boy she’d met only hours earlier was inside her room. His fingers trailed over her skin, slipping under the waistband of her jeans as Chloe sucked in air.

Her hand hovered over his, stopping him from moving it down any further.

“What’s wrong?” Luke asked.

Chloe wanted to be the girl who said nothing. For one night, she wanted to act and not think, and forget about college transfers and consequences. For a brief moment outside, she thought she could do it. But no matter how comfortable Luke made her feel, she barely knew him. And she wasn’t experienced enough to pretend this was her typical behavior.

“I don’t usually get naked with strangers,” she said.

He glanced at the clock beside her bed. “We’ve got hours before your flight, right? Plenty of time to get to know each other better.”

Chloe laughed. “Luke, I’m leaving. We’re never going to see each other again.”

“I’m still hoping you’re going to change your mind about that.”

Chloe shook her head. “Not likely,” she said. But even as the words came out of her mouth, she wondered if they were true. How could a few hours make her question a decision she’d spent weeks contemplating? At this moment, time seemed as infinite as Chloe’s confidence. She was unaccustomed to uncertainty.

Luke made her question so many things. Should she give Mayfield another chance? Would she ever feel comfortable in a place that felt so foreign? Should she keep kissing the strange boy who made her heart race and her head dizzy?

“I don’t have a problem seeing strangers naked, but I fully respect your boundaries.” He cupped her head in his hands. “There’s a lot we can do with our clothes on. Or I can leave. Up to you.”

Luke’s eyes pleaded, but she didn’t feel any pressure. She genuinely believed what he said. What happened next was completely within her control.

“I like creativity.” She didn’t think it was possible, but he grinned even bigger. “What kind of fully clothed scenarios did you have in mind?”

Luke erased all the space between their bodies as he said, “Let’s see if I can find some other things you like.”

When Chloe’s alarm went off at six in the morning, she rolled over and found the other side of the bed empty. She wasn’t surprised. After all, she had told Luke to leave, reminding him about her early flight as she drifted to sleep, her lips raw from kissing his for hours.

She stretched her still fully clothed arms over her head, memories of Luke’s body filling her mind. She could still feel the weight of him on top of her, the way they had fumbled together, laughing when his fingers got tangled in her hair. Luke had kept his promise. He had very creatively respected Chloe’s boundary, exploring and teasing her body through too many layers of denim and cotton. Chloe was the one who had tried to erase the previously established limits, but Luke was firm. “I’m not going to be on Chloe’s list of Mayfield regrets,” he had said. She already knew that he would be her favorite memory of the entire Mayfield college experience.

She rolled out of bed and changed into fresh clothes for the airplane. While she was packing her headphones into her backpack, the door crept open and Chloe gasped.

“You’re up,” Luke beamed.

“What are you doing here?” Chloe questioned, her heart still racing.

The giant smile never left his face. Luke took two broad, comfortable steps into Chloe’s room. “I figured you could use a coffee. And maybe a ride to the airport?”

“I was going to take the bus,” Chloe mumbled, still surprised to see someone she thought was a distant memory.

“With all of that luggage, my car will be a lot easier.”

Chloe shook her head. “You don’t want to spend your Sunday driving a stranger to the airport.”

“After last night, we definitely aren’t strangers.” He stared at the floor as he softly said, “And spending an hour in the car with you sounds like an ideal Sunday.”

“Are you sure?” Chloe tentatively replied.

“I brought bagel sandwiches too.” Luke held up two egg and cheese sandwiches, wrapped in the blue and white paper of the town’s deli.

Maybe that was the moment Chloe started falling for Luke. Knowing that he had woken up before the sun to secure the best breakfast option for the girl he’d spent the night kissing.

“You might be the perfect guy,” Chloe said.

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” Luke asked.

“Because it’s hard to leave something so good,” Chloe admitted.

Once Chloe got home for Christmas break, her rehearsed explanations about leaving Mayfield seemed harder to deliver. She sat on the kitchen counter as her mother cooked their holiday paella, prepping the dozens of ingredients that would fill their home with the exotic smells that had perfumed Chloe’s childhood. Chloe hadn’t traveled much, but her mother loved experimenting with new cuisines, calling their nightly meals “food vacations.”

“You can change your mind, you know.” Rhonda chopped onions and garlic as she tried to coax a discussion out of her daughter. “A million times if that’s what it takes to figure out what you want.”

Her father piped up. “Do you think I’m made of money? Changes cost money.”

“We’re out a plane ticket, Walter,” Chloe’s mother shouted across the room. She waved her hand in the air and mouthed Ignore him . “Are you happy there?” she asked as she toasted the rice in her beloved paella pan.

Chloe shook her head. “I wasn’t. But maybe I didn’t try hard enough. Maybe I could be happy there.”

Chloe wanted to chase the dream of being an artist like Lily Drake. She wanted to be brave enough to explore a whole new life at Mayfield. And she hated giving up when there was a chance of something working out. Up until that last night, she hadn’t seen a possibility of happiness at Mayfield. One night shouldn’t have changed her mind, but somehow it had.

“It’s your choice,” her mother said. “You can live here and go to school closer to home. You can try Mayfield again. You can join a traveling circus if that’s what you want.”

“Nope,” her father shouted from the couch. “No clowns allowed. They creep me out.” Chloe’s mother threw her kitchen towel across the room, thumping his head.

“I don’t know what to do.” Chloe plucked an olive and a slice of cheese from the platter her mother had prepared. “I’m sorry.”

Rhonda set down her knife, resting her elbows on the counter and leaning forward. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I keep changing my mind. Ezra would never do anything like this. I’m the flaky one. Again.” Chloe’s older brother Ezra was spending his first married Christmas with his wife’s family, and although she missed him, it was nice to have her parents’ undivided attention. Ezra’s perfection seemed to magnify Chloe’s flaws. They were polar opposites, responsible Ezra attending Stanford and getting married to his college sweetheart. Irresponsible Chloe, who tried three different instruments before abandoning music for dance classes and then finding painting. Her mother called her well-rounded while her father muttered about the expense of all those talents.

“You and Ezra are different.” Rhonda walked around and squeezed her daughter’s hands. “It’s not a competition. I’d rather you change your mind than stick with something that makes you miserable.”

Chloe hugged her mother, got another slice of cheese, and joined her father on the couch.

“Kiddo, do you know what will help?” Walter wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

“Please don’t say a James Bond movie marathon,” Chloe sighed.

He reached for the remote control and smiled. “A James Bond movie marathon,” Walter replied solemnly.

Chloe closed her eyes and shook her head.

“Sean Connery can help. Maybe even a dash of Daniel Craig. I will not subject you to Roger Moore. James Bond has all the answers to life’s problems.”

Chloe’s father started the movie, and eventually Chloe’s mother joined them as dinner simmered. Chloe was flanked by her parents and snuggled under the fur blanket that was only necessary because her mother had opened all the windows in the house to create some holiday atmosphere. She would have preferred to watch anything else, but seeing her parents happy was worth it. It was easy to make little sacrifices when they brought joy to someone you love.

Sometime between Goldfinger and GoldenEye , Chloe realized that feeling comfortable wasn’t enough. She wanted more. And it wasn’t fair to give up on Mayfield and her dreams just because home was easier.

When Chloe returned to Mayfield for second semester, her father seemed relieved and her mother seemed cautious. When they asked what had changed her mind, she said it was a lot of things. The first semester at Mayfield had felt lonely. It seemed impossible to chase a dream in a place where she didn’t belong. But one night in a Waffle House had given Chloe the hope of fitting in. And she had faith that everything else would work itself out.

Chloe hadn’t come back for Luke. Or at least that’s what she told herself. She never wanted to be the type of girl who would change her life for a boy. And it was partly true.

Because when classes started and Chloe sat next to Sloane in Italian Renaissance painters, and Marianne showed her the bizarrely delicious combination of peach cobbler and cornbread at the dining hall, and Wyatt and Alden convinced her to join their kickball team, she knew she’d made the right decision. Luke wasn’t the reason. Or at least he wasn’t the only reason she had changed her mind. It was all of them. She had found her friends. It never occurred to her that she could lose herself.