7
Girls’ Night, Allegedly
Kylie
Paige waits until we’re in the stairwell to start screaming. “Kenzie!”
“What?”
“I got a number.”
Kenzie stops on the landing so fast I walk into her back. “You what?”
“I got a number, and we got invited to a party.” Paige holds her phone over her head like a trophy. “Saturday. Off campus. Hockey guys.”
“You were gone for two seconds.”
“I’m good.”
Kenzie snatches the phone out of her hand and reads the screen, and her mouth falls open. “Koda? Is that a real name?”
“It’s a hockey name.”
“It’s a dog’s name.”
“It’s a hot name,” Paige says, taking her phone back.
I lean against the railing and watch them. My ears are still ringing from the music, it’s after eleven, I have a nine-thirty tomorrow, and I’m so tired my eyes hurt. “Which one was Koda?”
“Caramel hair. Arms.”
“There were a lot of arms, Paige.”
“The one who made that swim kid do push-ups for a slice of pizza.”
I make a face. “That guy? He’s an asshole.”
“He’s a hot asshole.” She says it like it settles something. “I love assholes. They’re always good in bed.”
Kenzie laughs. “Just don’t bring him back to ours.”
Paige rolls her eyes.
I think about the party, the chair guy, the gigantic asshole against the window with his water bottle watching the whole thing, the way my shoulder accidentally hit his arm on the way out.
I hear myself thinking out loud, “They’re hockey players?”
Paige nods. “Yeah. Hockey boys.”
I press my lips together. “Mm. I hate the tall one.”
Paige laughs. “They’re all tall.”
“Fine, the one who was standing. Light brown hair. Holding the water bottle. He’s a fucking dick.”
Kenzie and Paige look at each other.
“Oh, him,” says Paige, and doesn’t say anything else, and I don’t like her face at all.
I say good night on the landing, and they go on up to four while I take the door to three.
Tessa is in bed with a book when I get in, and she doesn’t look up.
She’s in her pajamas with her hair up and her lamp on, exactly where she was when I left two hours ago, with her one mug on her desk. Her side of the room is tidy.
I kick my shoes off and sit on the edge of my bed. “There’s a party Saturday. Off campus. Paige got us invited. You should come.”
She turns a page. “No, thanks.”
“You didn’t even think about it.”
“Don’t need to. It’s not my scene.”
“It’s Saturday, Tessa. You don’t have anything on Saturday. You sit in here all day, and it’s kind of weird.”
“I have a book.”
“You have a book,” I deadpan.
She nods. “It’s a long book.”
She looks at her page, and I look at her, and apparently that’s the end of the conversation. Tessa Canten hasn’t left this building for anything except class, the dining hall, and the laundry room since the day we moved in. I’m going to get her out of this room whether she likes it or not.
“Fine,” I say. “Stay here and read your book.”
“Thank you.”
Evan texts me the next morning.
Evan: Hey. Hope your week’s going okay.
I read it at the mirror with a toothbrush in my mouth, and something in my stomach drops, because it’s a normal text and it’s the fourth one like it since Monday.
He’s giving me space without announcing it and texting me things like this in the middle of it.
I spit, and rinse, and stare at my own face for a second.
Evan: Also I was thinking we could do something on Saturday?
Evan: No pressure. I just miss you.
I put the phone down on the edge of the sink and finish getting ready with it lying there like a dead bird. I don’t answer it all day.
I go to class. I take notes. In sociology, the professor says social capital too many times, and at the end, I look down and I’ve written social capital multiple times and nothing else.
I go to the dining hall with Kenzie at one, and she tells me about her homework trouble and then her sister’s drama, and I’m grateful for five minutes of somebody else’s mess.
It makes me feel less alone, like maybe we’re all doomed no matter what we do, and we just call it life.
At two, I draft a message.
Me: I don’t think we should keep doing this.
I read it four times and delete it. At four, I try again.
Me: I think we both know this isn’t––
I delete that one before I finish the sentence.
At six, I get as far as pressing the call button, and my thumb hovers over the red circle for one ring before I hang up, and then I sit on my bed with my hands over my face, because I am absolutely the kind of person who does that.
Evan: Did you just call me?
Of course he texts instead of calling back.
Me: Butt dial. Sorry.
Evan: Lol classic.
Classic. I put my phone in my desk drawer and close the drawer.
On Thursday, Paige corners me in the fourth-floor kitchen, because Kenzie wanted to make quesadillas and Kenzie owns a pan, which makes her the most powerful person on that floor. Paige is sitting on the counter with her legs swinging, smelling faintly like a skunk. Kenzie is burning a tortilla.
“So,” Paige says. “Did you tell him?”
I look up. “Tell who?”
“Your boyfriend.”
“He’s not—”
Paige waits, and I don’t finish, because they both know. Kenzie turns around from the stove with the spatula still in her hand.
“You didn’t tell him,” Paige says.
I shake my head. “It’s not that simple.”
“It’s one sentence.”
“Paige.”
“It’s literally one sentence. I don’t want to be with you anymore. That’s it. After everything he did? Come on. Say it how it is.”
I smile at her in spite of myself. “You sound like me.”
Kenzie has turned the burner off, and the kitchen falls very quiet. Paige is right. Maybe I’m not as upfront as I thought I was.
“So right now,” Paige says, “as far as he knows, you’re still his girlfriend. He’s still texting you. He’s making plans. He’s thinking about what to say to you on Saturday.”
I stare at the counter.
“That’s not me being mean,” she says. “That’s just what’s true.”
“I know it’s true.”
“So?”
“So I’m going to do it.”
“When?”
“Paige,” Kenzie hisses.
“I’m not asking to be a bitch,” Paige says in defense. “I’m asking because you’re going to feel like garbage every hour until you do it, and I’d like you to be fun by Saturday.”
Kenzie makes a noise into her hand. And the awful thing is that Paige is right. She might be the only friend I’ve ever had who tells me exactly what I need to hear. I don’t need anyone tiptoeing around my feelings. Evan lied, kissed someone else, and I need to just do it.
“I’ll do it,” I say.
Paige nods once and hops down off the counter. “Good. Kenzie, that black one is yours.”
I call him at nine, sitting on the floor between my bed and the wall with my back against the frame and my knees pulled up.
Tessa is at her desk. When the phone starts ringing out, she gets up without a word, puts in her headphones, and leaves, and she closes the door so quietly that I don’t hear it click.
He picks up on the first ring. “Hey. Hey. Hi.”
“Hi.”
“I was hoping you’d—” He stops. “Sorry. Hi. How are you?”
“Not great.”
“Yeah.” A breath. “Me neither.”
There’s a TV on somewhere behind him, and then it goes quiet, and I can hear him settle.
I close my eyes. “Evan, I’m ending it.”
The silence goes on so long I check the screen to see if the call dropped.
“Kylie,” he breathes.
“I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore.”
“Okay.” His voice cracks. “Okay. Can we—can you just—”
“No.”
“You’re not even going to let me—”
“You already talked. Monday. You came here and talked, and I listened to all of it, and I’m still ending it.”
“Really?”
“You told her you were single.”
“I said it was complicated.”
“Evan.” I close my eyes, and he stops. I can hear him breathing, and I press my knuckles against my mouth until it passes.
“Two weeks,” I say, when I can. “You texted her for two weeks. You told me I was being weird when I asked about your phone. You made me apologize to you. Then you kissed her at a party, and when I asked if something was wrong with us, you said no.”
“Nothing is wrong with us.”
“Okay.” My voice comes out wrecked. “That’s why I’m doing this. If something had been wrong, I could have fixed it. I’m really good at fixing things. I would have fixed it for you.” I wipe my face with the back of my hand. “There’s nothing to fix.”
He’s crying. I can hear it, and it goes through me like a hook, and every single part of me wants to make it stop.
“I love you,” he says.
“I know.”
“I’m in love with you, Kylie. I just fucked—”
“I know that too.”
“Then—”
“It’s done, Evan.”
He says my name again, and then he doesn’t say anything for a while.
“Is there somebody else?” he asks.
A laugh comes out of me, awful, half a sob. “Evan.”
“I’m asking.”
“You’re projecting. God, no. There’s nobody else. There has never been anybody else. I don’t even have friends, Evan. You were the only—” I make myself stop. “I put you first.” I laugh through my tears. “I’m at this fucking school because you wanted to go here. How could you ask that?”
He doesn’t say anything.
I continue without stopping, “Don’t text me.”
He asks, “For how long?”
I swallow. “I don’t know.”
“Ky.” He breathes out, and it shakes on the way. “Fuck. Kylie, I’m sorry. I love you.”
I don’t say anything. Neither of us hangs up. I sit on the floor with my knees against my chest and listen to him breathe, three years of my life on the other end of a phone, and neither of us can be the one to end the call.
“Bye, Kylie,” he says finally.
“Bye.”
I hang up first. The phone drops to the carpet, and I squeeze my knees and cry into my sleeves until I can’t anymore. I gave everything to someone who threw it away for attention. I thought I’d chosen a good man to spend my life with, and he took it for granted.
The door opens, and Tessa comes in with two cups and one headphone still in. She doesn’t look at my face. She sets one cup on the floor next to my leg, goes to her bed, sits down, and picks her book back up.
It’s a vanilla milkshake with crushed Oreos on top and a whole one balanced on the rim.
I cry harder, because it’s the nicest and most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. I pick it up and wipe my cheeks. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
I drink it on the floor between my bed and the wall, with my eyes swollen and my throat aching, and at some point, I glance over at her. She looks at me over the top of her book and gives me a small, gentle smile, and I give one back.
I don’t hear from him all the next day. It’s what I asked for, and it’s still the strangest day I’ve had in three years.
I keep reaching for my phone at the times I’d normally tell him something: walking out of my nine-thirty, standing in line for coffee, when I’m feeling sad. I put the phone back in my pocket.
Me: What is everyone doing?
Kenzie: In class.
Paige: Kylie, are you single yet?
Me: Yeah.
Paige: I’m screaming.
I smile.
Paige: Pregame in 412 Saturday at 8.
Bianca: Bring clothes options!
Kenzie: And snacks!
Me: I’ll be there.
I read it three times and feel almost normal. Then I put my phone down and go to class, and I don’t cry all day. I count that as a win.
On Saturday, I ask Tessa again. She’s at her desk with her laptop open when I come out of the bathroom with my hair half done and one eye’s worth of makeup on.
“Come with me tonight.”
“No, thanks.”
“Paige and Kenzie room together. They’re a package deal, and they’re going to ditch me.” I put my stuff down. “It’s off campus. It’s at a house.”
“No, thank you.”
“There’s going to be food.”
Tessa looks up at me for the first time. “Like a real dinner?”
I grin. “No, it’s a party.”
“I don’t party, Kylie.”
I stand there in the middle of the room with my curling iron in my hand. “One day, you’re going to come out with me.”
She shakes her head.
“I’m serious. I’m going to wear you down. I’m relentless. Ask anyone who knows me.”
“I don’t know anyone.”
“That’s a problem I’m trying to solve.”
The corner of her mouth moves. “Have fun,” she says.
At eight, I put on the good jeans and a cute top.
I do my makeup twice because I mess it up the first time, and I look at myself in the mirror on the back of the door for a long minute.
My eyes are still a little swollen, but you can only tell if you know.
Last week, I had a boyfriend. Tonight I don’t.
There’s nothing on my phone from Evan. There are nineteen messages in Corvin 4 + Kylie, most of them about what Paige should wear. I grab my bag.
“Don’t wait up,” I tell Tessa.
“I’m going to be asleep by ten.”
“I know,” I say, and shut the door.
I go up to their dorm room and watch them get ready.
Then we’re off. The house is four blocks off campus, and we can hear it from the corner, a big sagging place with a porch.
There are people on the porch and in the yard, every window on the first floor is lit up, and the music is loud enough to make the glass buzz.
Paige is walking about six steps ahead of the rest of us, because Paige is excited. She’s in a black top, checking her phone the way she has since we left Corvin Hall.
“Did he answer?” Kenzie asks.
“He said they’re already here.”
“They?” I ask.
“The team,” Paige says, and turns around to walk backward up the sidewalk, grinning at all of us. “Okay. Ground rules. Nobody leaves without telling the group. Nobody goes upstairs alone. And nobody—” she points at me “—starts a fight over a chair.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, Paige.”
“You were relentless about it.”
Kenzie snorts, and Bianca says something I don’t hear. We climb the porch steps, somebody holds the door open for us, and Paige grabs my wrist and pulls me in.