Lani exhales through her nose, filing away all the other questions she still has for another time. “So…spring break,” she says, randomly, needing to obviously change the subject. “What are y’all doing?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Haven’t thought about it much.”
I have, actually. Atlas, Kay—his girlfriend—and his roommates are all driving down to Houston. A mess of hotels, beach parties, cheap alcohol, drugs, and the heat. He texted me an open seat, and I sent back a text that basically said maybe.
“My sorority’s going to Fort Lauderdale,” Simone says, smiling, and I can tell she’s excited. Then she looks at me, all serious. “But I’ll stay if you need me to. Do you need me to?”
“Absolutely not,” I say, too fast. “You’re not missing that because of me.”
Her mouth tilts. “I wouldn’t be missing much. Just standing in a decorated beach house with fifteen girls named Kaylee.”
“All spelled differently at that,” Lani adds.
“Exactly,” Simone says, then gives me that look, and I know she’s serious about the offer. But I don’t need it. I’m not going to bring her down with me anymore. I want her to go have fun, not be stuck here babysitting me.
“Cali for me,” Lani says. “Sandro and I are flying home. It’s not my ideal break, but my mom is forcing us to come home. You should come.” She points at me with the pen. “We’ll show you all the good food spots, soak up some sunshine, and you can sleep for a week. I could use the distraction from my family, actually.”
It’s a nice mental picture. It’s also a city where I would get into the kind of trouble that might be fun in the moment, but would most definitely cost me in the long run. “I don’t want to intrude, plus Sarah and Mark would be pissedif I went and visited your family before I went back home to see them,” I tell her, which is true, and easier than saying I don’t trust myself to not fuck up in front of you and your family.
“Why don’t you go see them?” Lani asks, trying to push me to do anything but be here alone.
“I’ll be fine,” I say. “Dorms won’t be that empty. Maybe I’ll…catch up on sleep.” The lie tastes bitter, not my best, but not my worst.
Simone makes a face. “Gross.” She flops back, then pops back up. “Can we at least go shopping together before I leave? We all need spring break outfits, even if you’re just walking to the dining hall—sundresses, shorts, sunglasses you’ll lose in a couple of days, all of it.”
“Pass,” I say on instinct.
“Not pass,” Lani counters. “You’ve been wearing the same pair of jeans for weeks and the same hoodie that looks like it’s seen war. You’re coming.”
“I like my war hoodie,” I mumble. “It’s comfy.”
“Great. Wear it to the mall so we can stage an intervention,” Simone says, already scrolling on her phone, thumbs rapidly firing away. “I’m putting it on the calendar.”
I throw my head back. “Fine.”
They start debating bikinis vs. one-pieces like the world isn’t on fire—mine is at least, but I guess I’ve gotten used to the warmth. I let their noise wash over me, thankful to be back around them. Thankful that was easier than I expected it to be. Sad that I have to keep lying to them. Scared that they’ll hate me when they find out.
My phone buzzes against my thigh.
Atlas: We’re rolling out Friday morning. You in or what?
Lani is tellingSimone she refuses to wear anything with cutouts because “for who,” and Simone is defending cutouts on the principle of style, and I’m staring at the text that looks like an open door. Houston is distance and noise. Distance is quiet for my head if I dose it up just right.
Lydia: Probably. I’ll let you know tomorrow
Three dots.
Atlas: Cool. We’ll make it a thing. It’ll be fun
Simone sits up again, softening now when she looks at me. “We’re okay?” she asks me, looking more like my person again and less like a judge.
“We’re okay,” I say, and mean it in the same breath I don’t. I’m scared to lose her…I’m more scared I’ve already lost myself.
“Wait…” I narrow my eyes back on Simone. “What the hell happened with Tyler?”
Simone drops her head, and for a second, I’m scared she’s going to tell me he actually dumped her. “Um, yeah, about that…turns out he didn’t want to break up,” she says, picking at a thread on her sleeve.
“That’s good? Right?” The hope in my voice sounds stupid the second it’s out, wanting to take back everything I said to her, and none of it be true.
