Chapter 20
Senior Year, Second Semester
I knew life would change after graduation, but I never could have predicted such a harsh line in the sand.
The call comes when I’m in my navy cap and gown, queued up alphabetically with the rest of the College of Social and Behavioral Sciences majors waiting to file into the auditorium.
Danielle’s name flashes on my phone, and as I step out of line to answer it, my stomach churns with excited, anxious nausea.
Life rarely hands you such an obvious life-altering before-and-after moment, but as I answer Danielle’s call with sweaty palms and a medically concerning heartbeat, I know that this is the biggest moment of my life thus far.
I’m ten minutes from my college graduation, but fifty years from now, when I think about today, this is the moment I’ll remember.
Our call is quick, and when I retake my place with the rest of the graduates, no one around me knows about the tectonic shift that has taken place under my feet.
My book sold at an auction between eight publishing houses.
The amount of money makes my head spin, second only to the emotional vertigo that swallows me whole when I realize there will be a book, with my name on it, on a bookshelf.
I can’t believe it.
The guy in front of me turns around with a scowl, and I realize I must have uttered that out loud. “What?” he asks.
I shake my head, trying to bring myself back to reality. “I can’t believe we’re graduating,” I say, because this random man will not be the first person to know that I achieved the goal I’ve worked toward for as long as I can remember.
“What’s your major?” he asks, and I can’t help but laugh. Hopefully this is the last time in my life I’ll have to answer that question.
“Creative writing.”
He chuckles a bit too much for someone also graduating with a liberal arts degree. “What are you going to do now? Write the next great American novel?” His casual condescension would bug the shit out of me on any other day.
“Something like that.” The ceremony starts in ten minutes, but I risk slipping away again. I text West to meet me, and a minute later, I crash into his arms outside the doors of Centennial Hall.
“What’s going on?” He grabs my shoulders and holds me at arm’s length, his eyes roving over my face.
“My book sold. I’m going to be a published author.”
His face splits into a grin. He wraps his arms around me and spins me until my feet are off the ground. When he sets me down, his eyes are shining with tears. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Jupiter.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you.”
He shakes his head. “This was all you.” He bends for a kiss. “The graduates are going in. You don’t want to miss it.”
“I don’t really care, to be honest.”
“You’re not skipping graduation.”
“C’mon, West. I just got hired at my dream job! Why do I need to walk?”
“Because your parents are inside waiting to cheer as you cross that stage. We’ll celebrate after, I promise.” We kiss again, and he squeezes my hand as we enter through the glass doors and separate: I join the graduates, and he sits with my parents in the auditorium.
I don’t absorb a single word of my graduation ceremony, but it doesn’t matter.
I did it.
I can finally stop running.
My parents take me to a late lunch after the ceremony, and they’ve settled into a lecture on the cost of living in New York when I tell them the good news. As soon as I get my first check, I’ll not only be able to afford my half of rent, I’ll also be able to pay back their tuition money.
I’ve never seen my mom speechless. It’s so satisfying.
They have a million questions. Am I sure it’s not a scam? Yes. Do I have a backup plan if the book doesn’t do well? No, but thanks for the vote of confidence. Do I plan to branch out from YA and write a “real book” next?
I don’t dignify that with a response, but I do order an extra-strong drink.
After lunch, my parents come to the house and help me pack everything I own. Amber is keeping all the furniture, so it’s just a matter of throwing clothes and shoes and books into boxes and drinking old margarita mix from the fridge in order to tolerate my parents.
By the time they’re on the road to San Diego, the sun is setting, I’m weary from their passive-aggressive remarks, and I’m itching to get out of the house.
I don’t know why I expected them to have a better reaction to my book deal, but their surprised and skeptical faces when I broke the news kind of crushed me.
All I want to do now is celebrate with West. I text him to meet me at the house and then change into a white off-the-shoulder dress that I’ve been saving for a special occasion.
I’m sitting cross-legged on the bathroom counter, touching up my curls, when I hear a knock on the front door.
“Come in!” I shout, and a few seconds later, West’s face appears in the mirror.
“Whoa,” he says, his eyes traveling over the stack of boxes pushed into the corner of my room.
“Weird, right? How’d packing go at your place?”
“I don’t have much stuff.”
“I mean, same, if you don’t count the books. My parents took four boxes home with them.” I release the last curl, run my fingers through my hair, and spritz everything with hair spray. “Sorry my parents stayed forever, but you could have come over sooner.”
He leans against the doorjamb with his arms crossed and watches me reapply my makeup in the mirror. “You don’t get to spend much time with them.”
“Thankfully. I only need five more minutes and then I’ll be ready. What should we do? Dinner to celebrate? Can you believe we’re finally leaving?”
“Dinner sounds good.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets as I attempt winged eyeliner with my nose two inches from the mirror.
“And then Rishi is having a grad party, if you want to go?” My hand slips, and my right eye wings out way too far. I run a Q-tip under the tap and fix it.
“Eh,” West replies. “I didn’t graduate. Might be weird.”
“What? No. These are your friends, too. I’m on the fence.
It’d be fun to say goodbye to everyone, but we’ll probably get on the road faster if I’m not majorly hungover in the morning.
Did we decide if we’re leaving tomorrow or the next day?
We get the keys to our apartment on Wednesday, so it just depends on how we want to split up the driving, where we want to stop for the night.
” I swipe on a matte red lipstick and lean back to survey my face.
The eyeliner is still uneven, but whatever.
I’m going to be a published author! Who cares what my makeup looks like?
I knock over an open bottle of foundation as I’m climbing off the counter, and I meet West’s wary expression in the mirror.
“Oops.” I quickly wipe it up with cotton balls.
The counter is covered in makeup and hair stuff, and West looks thoroughly unimpressed.
“I’ll be cleaner when we share a bathroom.
” West is cleaner than I am—this has always been obvious by the state of our bedrooms—and I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot when we move in together.
He steps out of the way to let me pass. In my empty room, I slip on a pair of comfy sandals. “When we live together, I’ll be different. I’ll do my dishes and take out trash and whatever else clean people do—” The corners of West’s mouth are turned down, his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
He swallows heavily. A prickling sense of foreboding settles over me as I watch his throat work. I step toward him, faltering when his body tenses.
“I can’t go to New York.”
“Tomorrow? That’s okay. We can leave Sunday.”
“No, Mars.” His voice is rough enough to bruise. “I’m not moving to New York.”
I blink, convinced I heard him wrong. “That’s not funny, West.”
He presses his lips together, waiting for something.
For me to understand what’s happening, maybe?
I glance at the open door over his shoulder, looking for—I don’t know what.
Someone to tell me why he’s saying this.
But the hall is empty, and it’s just him and me, and he’s looking at me with puppy dog eyes that are begging me not to hate him.
Panic builds in my throat until I’m halfway to asphyxiation. “What are you talking about? We found a place. You’re my roommate.” Yes, that’s good. Focus on that. Losing a roommate is a lot fucking easier than losing the love of my life.
He stares at the floor. “You won’t have trouble making rent.”
My breath is tight in my chest. Oh my god. He’s jealous. “Is this about my book deal?”
“No,” he says with blistering force. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Then I can’t wait to hear the reason.”
“My family needs me. My grandma is getting worse by the day. My mom can’t take care of her and all the kids.”
“You’re moving back home?”
“Maybe.” He sighs heavily. “I don’t know yet.”
If this were entirely about his family, we would have talked about it before now. There’s something else going on; his words don’t match the tragic look in his eyes. “Is this about Bethany?”
“No.” He steps toward me, but I duck around him and out of my room, mind reeling.
I need fresh air. I need to not be here anymore. I need to know what the hell is going on.
I turn, and West is right behind me. “Are we breaking up?”
His head rears back in surprise. “If—if that’s what you want.”
“I want to move to New York with my boyfriend, but I guess that’s not an option. So it looks like you’re calling the shots. What do you want?”
His face falls. “I don’t think long distance ever works.” There’s a jagged edge to his voice that triggers something deep inside me.
I straighten. “Got it. Okay. You can leave,” I say woodenly. For the first time in my life, I’m too furious to cry.
“Mars,” he says, and then thinks better of it. “Jupiter.” It’s a bolt of pain straight through the heart. He grimaces as he rubs the back of his neck. “I thought we could still go out for your last night here.”
“Are you kidding me?”