Chapter 30
jett
“How’s it going in here?” Amy asks. “Getting a lot of work done?”
I grumble, rolling over on the worn-down loveseat, covering my head with a blanket.
If by work she means rewatching the same clip of Sofía laughing for the last half hour, then yes. I have been incredibly productive.
Otherwise, my time has been spent preventing Mateo from getting work done, eating cold leftover pizza, and bringing down the overall vibe.
Charlie peels the blanket off my head, quirking a brow. She tosses a piece of chocolate into my little burrow and then retreats to stand beside Amy in the kitchen.
“I wrote the methods for a chapter of my thesis,” Mateo says. “Jett obsessively rewatched the same videos for thirty minutes. So one of us got work done.”
I shove my best friend with my foot, and he responds with a deep, hearty laugh.
“That was our little secret.” I sigh.
“You’re heartbroken, it’s not a secret,” Mateo replies. “Every person in this apartment knows. You’ve been sulking on our couch all week.”
“I haven’t been sulking.”
“Uh, yes you have,” Charlie says. “All mopey and sad that it didn’t work out with Sofía. Won’t talk about what went wrong or how it even started. Rewatching the same videos of her obsessively. I would call that the definition of sulking.”
The girls exchange a glance—doing that annoying silent conversation thing that irritates Mateo—and Amy nods, dropping her phone on the counter and flopping onto the seat beside me.
The pounding in my ears begins.
As far as hosts go, Amy, Charlie, and Mateo have played the role spectacularly. For the most part, they’ve let me mope. No one has touched the Sofía-shaped elephant in the room, which I’m grateful for, but I fear the generosity has expired.
I don’t know how to talk about it yet—not when the rejection is so fresh.
“Jett Pack,” Amy says. “Can I ask you a question?”
Uh-oh.
I remember Charlie complaining about how perceptive Amy can be with emotions.
This might be my firsthand experience with the “cut to the emotional chase” version of her.
I look to Mateo for help, pleading with my eyes, but he shrugs and mouths, You’re on your own.
With the patience of a saint, Amy waits, playing with the fringe on the old blanket.
There’s no way out but through—at least that’s what the motivational quote on the wall of Charlie and Mateo’s office says. As someone nursing a heartbreak, I think that’s a whole bunch of malarkey.
Finally, I nod, and Amy asks, “Do you think you can move on?”
The answer comes immediately: no.
At least not completely. Distance and time will make it easier. It’s why I fled to Rhode Island.
A long, heavy silence passes until I finally find the words to explain what rips through my chest at the thought of her.
“You don’t get over a love like this. She’s the end of my road, Ames. She was it for me.” The room grows fuzzy as my eyes mist. “I don’t think I can. I’ll learn to live with it—to exist beside her—but no, I don’t think I’ll ever move on.”
A sniffle sounds through the room, and through my tears, Charlie wipes her eyes. “You could tell her,” she presses. “You never know what could happen. You like the girl, you tell the girl. That’s what a wise man once told Mateo. Look how well that worked for him. He’s obsessed with me.”
The man of topic moves through a blurry view, sweeping Charlie into a kiss. He rumbles something in her ear.
“Don’t worry about it,” she hisses. “It’s for me to know and for you to pretend you don’t know anything about it.”
“Are you pulling a Cheryl and Dan right now?” Mateo asks.
Amy stiffens beside me, her eyebrow piercing twitching.
“I don’t know what that means,” I mumble.
“They’re weird,” she blurts, snapping her fingers to gather their attention. They blanch but stop whispering. “Jett was trying to tell us how he feels. Be good friends and listen to him.”
I offer Amy a pathetic half smile.
“It was simple for you two,” I explain. “The feelings were there. Mateo only needed a two-handed shove. It doesn’t work if there’s nothing on the other side to catch you.”
An uncomfortable silence fills the room. Charlie focuses on her phone, Mateo finds the countertop interesting, and Amy drops her head on my shoulder. Voicing my reality is like enduring the shallow slice of the blade over and over.
Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with her. She didn’t. It’s as simple as that.
Fuck, I’ve never felt so stupid in my life.
The whole thing was a terrible idea, though I don’t regret a single moment.
“I don’t want her to carry any guilt,” I continue, as if what I said so far isn’t painful enough to admit.
“It’s not her fault. You can’t force someone to love you, I know this.
” My laugh is hollow. “Been here before. But I don’t know how to be her friend or exist in the same room when it’s impossible to breathe.
I won’t force her to navigate my emotions.
She’s already been treated like her choices and autonomy are less important than others. I refuse to do the same.”
Wordlessly, Mateo hands me a pint of ice cream—birthday cake with sprinkles and cake chunks. The sugar melts on my tongue, and after a few massive spoonfuls, the disappointment fades from a pulsing throb in my diaphragm to an everlasting ache.
I set the sweet treat aside and find they’re all smiling at me. Amy’s version is kind and gentle. Charlie’s is deranged, more like a baring of teeth. Mateo’s is knowing yet comforting.
“I know I’m not great at this girl-talk stuff,” I admit, “but I don’t think you’re supposed to smile after I tell you I’m all twisted up about Sofía.”
“No. You’re right. I’m sorry,” Amy says, forcing hers away. Her lips twitch, and she focuses on my computer. “What are you working on?”
I tip the screen. “Cutting the footage we took while diving in Sydney. This is a leafy seadragon.”
“I don’t see anything.”
Pressing play, the video shows kelp flowing in the current. There’s a plume of sand—my fault from when Doug noticed the tiny guy and I got excited and hit a rock—and when the water clears, the seadragon floats out from its hiding spot.
The editing software flips through a few different clips at various angles, and then it cuts to wider-framed footage to display the ecosystem. Rocky bottom covered in kelp. The screen goes black, and Amy claps.
“And then you’ll add in the voice-over?” she asks.
“Once I finish piecing together the footage of the animals and add in a few of the interviews I collected from local guides and conservationists, I’ll send the draft cut to Brooks and Mavis.
They host an incredible science podcast. They’ll select facts that fit the footage and record the audio for me to add into the first episode. ”
“Impressive,” she says, shoving my shoulder.
“Are those the two podcasters who hate each other?” Mateo asks. “The one where they argue for half the episode?”
“Oh, I love them. They’re hilarious,” Charlie says, plopping onto the already full sofa. I’m wedged between the two, and an elbow hits my gut as she adds, “But my favorite is the one Mavis does alone, where she breaks down conspiracy theories. She’s convincing.”
“We were into aliens and the Bermuda Triangle for a week,” Amy says. “I mean, it makes sense. They love pyramids, and a triangle is a two-dimensional pyramid.”
Mateo groans. “Not this again.” He rubs his temples. “She has no scientific backing to her crazy theories.”
“Sometimes you gotta follow the vibe,” Charlie says.
I know it’s only to push his buttons. There’s not a chance she’s “following a vibe.” When I laugh, three heads snap to me, and I realize what they’re doing. I love them for it.
Charlie places her phone face down on the coffee table, and Mateo joins us on the already full couch, sprawling across all three of us, his head facing Charlie and feet in Amy’s lap. He gives Charlie a kiss and Amy a playful kick.
This is why I came to Rhode Island.
My home was quiet and empty and void of joy.
Amy and Charlie’s apartment overflows with life and laughter.
“If she ever changed her mind, what would you do?” Mateo asks, lounging like a king. “If one day she told you she had feelings for you.”
Is he serious?
“Marry her before she could change her mind.”
He laughs, but he’s pushed to the ground as the girls sprint down the hallway, hushed whispers between them before a door slams shut. Mateo shrugs as we watch them disappear, content to steal the empty space on the couch and return to his thesis.
If Sofía told me she wanted more, it would be the easiest yes of my life.