New York, Spring Break, Freshman Year
NEW YORK, SPRING brEAK, FRESHMAN YEAR
Theo
Theo meets Caro at the basketball court adjacent to the West Fourth Street subway entrance. Pops one, two edibles, then offers them to Caro when she greets him. Literally, the only perk , she says, plucking one from the tin with a cheeky grin. When you’re the kid of someone who had cancer, the universe provides access to a medical marijuana card. Theo used to be so overwhelmed by so many feelings, but now he just pops a gummy that dials down the intensity, that dulls his anxiety so he can function. He pockets the tin and takes Caro’s hand, leading her toward the nearest Duane Reade.
“Snacks?”
Caro nods. “Obviously.”
After registering the cost of a bag of chips, they pivot to the dining hall at Theo’s dorm, where the snacks are still overpriced, but at least he can use dining dollars. In College Math, that basically means they’re free. Content with their haul, they head toward the elevator that will take them up to his room, to his bed. As they’re debating the merits of various Lays flavors, the edible hits.
“Classic?” Caro’s laugh echoes off the elevator door. “Fuck off.”
He leans in, his arm against the cool aluminum. “It’s classic for a reason, is it not?”
“Okay.”
Caro tastes like Sour Patch Kids, like his childhood, like home . Caroline Shapiro-Huang is not—has never been—Theo’s girlfriend. She set the terms of their situationship in high school. Whispered, You’re not my boyfriend, you know , in his ear after prom, both naked in the back seat of her Bronco. Yeah. He nodded, so relieved. Cool . Theo didn’t want a girlfriend. Not then. Not now.
It’s easier.
Better.
So. Theo and Caro understand what they are to each other. Friends that are tethered together by Pasadena, by the experience of typing electric razors best into Google, by undeniably good sex. It’s enough. An antidote to the homesickness, the loneliness . Her mouth is on his neck as he fumbles with his keys and pushes the door open. His fingers tease the hem of her shirt before gliding under the silk fabric, and every sensation is amplified by the high. When Theo’s palms press against her lower back, Caro’s lips return to his as she backs him into his room and it’s enough. It is enough —
“Fuck.”
His best friend’s voice sends him backward. Theo blinks once, twice at the voice, at her face . Evelyn is here , dressed in his mom’s Billy Joel concert tee and leggings, her hair in a messy bun. Theo must have bought a bad batch of edibles, laced with something else because weed doesn’t make anyone hallucinate a goddamn fantasy mid-hookup with someone else.
With Caro.
This is a bad trip.
Please, let this be a bad trip. “Evelyn?”
She’s on her feet, grimacing when her bad ankle buckles. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”
How is she here?
In New York.
In his bedroom.
Caro tugs at her shirt, her voice breezy, casual. “Hey! Theo didn’t mention you were visiting.”
Theo is entirely at a loss. “You’re…?”
Evelyn picks up her backpack off the floor and tosses it over her shoulder. “Leaving!”
Then she’s gone.
Caro’s eyebrows rise as she nods toward the door. “You should probably…”
Theo is in motion. “ Ev. Wait. Don’t… You just got here?”
“I’m crashing with Mir and Mateo,” she says, bending down to tie her sneakers as she exhales an awkward chuckle. “I wanted to surprise you. Obviously, I should’ve called.”
“Can I see you tomorrow?”
Evelyn zips her coat. “Sure.”
“Cool.”
It’s been six months since he’s been in the same room as Evelyn Bloom. Since he could touch her. He misses touching her. Theo rakes a hand through curls that are tangled, long overdue for a trim. There’s so much to say. He’s too stunned to speak. So fucking high. He wants to reach out to her, wrap his arms around her, ask her how she feels, tell her how much he misses her , but she’s gone before he even remembers to wish her a happy birthday.
Caro’s mid–giggle fit when he returns to his room. “Well. That definitely killed my boner.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why?” She ties her hair up with a neon blue scrunchie. “You’re not my boyfriend.”
“I know. But—”
“Theo.”
“I’m such an asshole.”
“No. If you were an asshole, I’d actually be into you. Romantically,” Caro teases, as if Theo isn’t on the verge of a meltdown. “Theo. I can see you spiraling. Calm down. We both know that this isn’t… that it was never anything more than sex. I mean. We have nothing in common, except for the worst thing to have in common.”
“Right.”
Caro bro-punches his arm. “We’re cool, Cohen. Don’t screw this up.”
“What?”
“Evie flew across the country to see you.”
“I know.”
“On her birthday.”
Theo drags his hand across his face. “ Fuck .”
Caro gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as if their tongues weren’t just in each other’s mouths. Then she exits his room, swiping the half-eaten bag of Sour Patch Kids on her way out. What the fuck? Theo’s so overwhelmed, so overcome by everything that just transpired that all he can do is eat an entire bag of Classic Lays, take a hit from Dev’s bong, and fall asleep.
In the morning, he texts Evelyn immediately.
hey
7:30 A.M.
i’m sorry about yesterday
7:31 A.M.
i’m so happy you’re here
7:32 A.M.
meet me in the park at nine?
7:32 A.M.
washington square park
7:32 A.M.
just to clarify
7:32 A.M.
there are a lot of parks here
7:32 A.M.
or i can come to you… if commuting downtown again is too much?
7:33 A.M.
God.
He sounds like such a loser .
Theo drops his phone and rolls out of bed because he needs coffee and a shower. After, he tosses a hand towel over his shoulder and cracks two eggs into a sizzling frying pan. Waits for Evelyn to text him back. When the door to Topher’s room creaks open, Theo cracks two additional eggs. His roommate always emerges from his slumber just in time for eggs. In return, he cleans the kitchen. It’s a win-win. His eyes shift toward the door, toward Toph. Except. Not Toph. Evelyn ?
Evelyn… in a Metallica shirt that skims her knees.
Toph’s shirt.
“Hey.” Her just woke up voice is raspy and he feels like such an idiot for believing that this visit meant something more. “Toph and I ran into each other—”
“It’s really none of my business.”
He attempts a lighthearted tenor, a no big deal shrug to mask how much he hates that Evelyn woke up in someone else’s clothes, in someone else’s bed. Cuts her off because Theo has no right to feel any kind of way about who Evelyn wakes up next to, but that doesn’t mean he needs to know how the fuck it happened. Theo returns his focus to the eggs, doesn’t want them to burn. He flips the omelet, then pours two cups of coffee.
Evelyn shakes her head. “Oh. No, thanks.”
She’s refusing coffee? “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. No, I’m…” She chuckles, awkwardly. “I’m just currently on this, like, gluten-free, low-FODMAP diet? Sort of… still in the process of relearning what I can and can’t eat?”
“Oh.”
He looks at her. Registers how much thinner she is and is overwhelmed all over again by how much he misses her, by how much he’s missed because his life is so far away from hers. He’s found his footing in New York. It took months. In the beginning, everything about New York was so loud, incredibly overstimulating, way too much. Theo couldn’t focus during classes. His anxiety became unmanageable. He only ever felt like himself on Survivor Wednesday, while watching his favorite show and texting with his favorite person. By mid-October, the homesickness was suffocating. He called Evelyn after Survivor because he missed her voice, because he wanted to mention that he’s considering transferring. Coming home.
He remembers the pain in her voice, so soft against his ear.
You have to stay.
I will hate you if you don’t stay.
Her words reminded him of a conversation they had after she was discharged from the hospital, in the aftermath of his careless mistake that shattered her dance dreams, and a diagnosis that recalibrated her future entirely. Obviously, New York is off the table. I can’t dance and… I have to figure out what the fuck is going on with my body.
Theo completely understood, was grateful even that he hadn’t committed yet. USC has an excellent teaching program.
What? Just because I’m not going doesn’t mean… no. You have to go.
I—
Theodore. You can’t stay. New York is your dream. He could hear the panic in her voice, the pain. You’re going. Promise me.
And because he didn’t know how to articulate that she was so much a part of that dream, he promised, committed, and went. Then felt like such an asshole during that phone call in October because he was here, and she wasn’t, and he was complaining about it. So again, he listened to his best friend. Stayed. Called Caro. Became really good at compartmentalizing. Convinced himself, his heart, that it was for the best. If he stayed away from her, he wouldn’t have to deal with any of it. Her. These reckless feelings.
Except.
Now he doesn’t even know what his best friend can and cannot eat.
“Eggs are cleared.” Evelyn nods at the carton on the counter. “Scrambled. Plain.”
Theo nods. “I can do that.”
“Thanks, Theodore.”
His shoulders settle as soon as she says those three syllables.
Theodore .
Okay.
They’re okay.
Theo can be okay.