Page 46 of Given Our History

Within minutes, he’d liked the status, and then an instant message popped up on my screen.

Teddy: How do you suppose Laurel Thatcher Ulrich feels when you attribute that quote to Eleanor Roosevelt

Teddy:?

Clara: Who is Laurel Thatcher Ulrich? I thought it was a quote by Anne Boleyn

Teddy: Haha

Teddy: You can’t fool me

Teddy: I know a Mary Todd Lincoln quote when I see one

Clara: I’ve missed this

Teddy: I’ve missed you

Teddy: Free for a video call?

Ten minutes later, I’d set up my webcam, hurriedly swept my fingers through my hair to make sure I didn’t look like I’d just crawled out of bed, and clicked to accept. Teddy materialized on the screen, a little pixelated at first, but then it cleared. Warm light spilled through the hostel window and his handsome face split into a broad grin. “Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” I said back, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. “How’s Europe?”

“Great. We’re in Bruges right now, but tomorrow we’ll catch a train back to Brussels, and then it’s over to London.” He said this very fast, with breathless wonder, as though it was still surreal, even for him. “Clara, there’s so much history over here. You’d love it.”

My heart squeezed in my chest, an ache and a relief all at once, like massaging a sore muscle. I wanted to be there with him, to decide for myself. But I didn’t voice that; we hadn’t discussed what transpired that day at the park, just as promised. It could wait. “Bruges,” I repeated. “They’re famous for, what? Painting?”

“Lacemaking,” he corrected me, “but I think most people visit for the architecture.”

“How’s the weather?” I cringed even as I was asking it. It was a throwaway question, impersonal, the sort of thing my mom asked strangers while paying the cable bill over the phone. But I wanted to live a little vicariously, to imagine something other than being cooped up in the house.

“Pretty mild,” he said. “It was hotter down in Marseille, though.”

They’d spent at least two weeks backpacking through Provence-Alpes-Côte d’Azur, couch surfing and staying in cheap hostels. The Mediterranean had treated him well, it seemed. His olive skin was tanned to a deep bronze and the shadow of stubble traced his jaw. He looked good. Really good.

“I hope you’re taking lots of pictures,” I said.

“I am, but I won’t be able to upload them until—” He was interrupted by knocking and pivoted at the waist to look over his shoulder. Hinges groaned and a male voice drawled somewhere off screen, but I couldn’t quite make out what it was saying. “Right,” Teddy said to him. “Yeah, I know. Be there in five.” He turned back to me, raising his eyebrows in that way that said, wordlessly, This guy is annoying the hell out of me. “Sorry. Not a lot of privacy, traveling like this.”

A triple bunk with a metal frame was pushed up against the wall behind him, the bleached white sheets tangled on the bottom bed. I wondered what he needed privacy for. Insecurity bubbled to the surface, because maybe he wanted to bring girls back to his room, but I shoved that thought back down.

It wasn’t any of my business what he was doing, because we’d put that conversation on hold, at least for now—however long that was. And while it was hard to get a read on things without seeing him in person, I could tell that our friendship hadn’t gone back to normal, exactly. The kiss had changed things, a shifting of tectonic plates that had settled but left a permanent fault line.

“Hey, so I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he continued, “but I wanted to wait until I could actually do it, you know”—he indicated the camera—“face-to-face, sort of, or at least as close to face-to-face as we can get. My application for transfer got accepted. I’m going to Cornell in the spring.”

I blinked at him, processing the new information, because my mind was still on him flirting with French girls. “But that’s all the way up in New York.”

“I was expecting something more along the lines of ‘Congratulations, Teddy, that’s great.’”

“I’m sorry, it’s just—” I tried and failed to put what I was feeling into words. This was exactly why we couldn’t be anything more. I didn’t want to resent Teddy for getting in to his dream school, for succeeding in all the things he wanted to do. But it felt as though the plates were shifting again, the fault widening.

I put on a tight-lipped smile. “Congratulations. I’m happy for you. I really am.”

“Thank you,” he said, a little wary.

I could sense that he was still a little bothered by my initial reaction, so I elected to change the subject. “So, London.”

He swept a hand through his hair, mussing the loose curls. He hadn’t had a haircut in months, probably, but it suited him. “For a few days. Then it’s over to Cardiff.”