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“Right.” Haven glanced down at herself, still wearing her plaid oversize pajamas. She hadn’t even brushed her hair yet. “I need to change first.”
“Me, too,” Kelsey said, scrunching her nose in disgust. “I can’t go out looking like this. I broke a sweat and didn’t even enjoy myself doing it.”
Kelsey immediately turned, leaving the empty boxes where she had discarded them as she bolted back up the narrow stairs.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Haven sat on the bottom step in the foyer, freshly showered and dressed in a pair of jeans and a red tank top. She tinkered with her keys as she waited, listening to the noise from above as Kelsey stomped around her apartment. Her loud footsteps echoed through the old building, the flimsy floorboards creaking and groaning. The building, although freshly remodeled, showed signs of its age.
Haven waited, and waited, and waited some more. Another twenty minutes passed, and she was about to give up, when the sound of Kelsey’s high heels started clicking her way. Haven stood and glanced up the stairs, studying the girl as she approached. Her clothes were pristine, vibrant and crisp as if they had never been worn before. Her lips shone brightly from gloss, her eyes masked with dark makeup. She was a pretty girl, but Haven thought she looked much better without all of that covering her face.
“Ready?” Kelsey asked.
Haven nodded. She had been ready.
Although she wore six-inch high heels, Kelsey walked confidently, her steps effortless, her stride long. Haven strolled along beside her, listening as the girl prattled on and on about everything. By the time they reached the school a few blocks away, Haven knew all she needed to know about Kelsey—an only child, the daughter of a congressman, she had failed out of NYU and decided to give art school a chance after her parents forced her to move out to teach her responsibility.
“So, yeah . . . my dad says I only get three strikes before he cuts me off, and failing out of NYU was number two.”
“What was the first strike?”
She shrugged. “Being born?”
Haven’s expression fell as she blinked a few times, those words striking her hard. She certainly could relate. “You really feel that way?”
“Sometimes,” Kelsey replied. “I’ve always had a strained relationship with my parents. My dad’s never here in New York and my mom, well . . . if I’m not on the bottom of a wine bottle, she’s not interested.”
“That’s, uh . . .”
“Pathetic?” Kelsey laughed. “I know it is. And first strike was actually probably when I almost failed graduating from high school. I was boy crazy and skipped too much. That’s over with, though. I’m committed now. I don’t have time for a boyfriend.”
The two of them stepped inside the building on 23rd Avenue, following the signs to the busy registrar’s office to have their student IDs made. Haven stared at hers when it was finished, ignoring the wrong name and instead focusing on the fact that her picture was prominently displayed on a badge granting her admission.
For the first time in her life, she was a student at a school.
The afternoon was chaotic as she went from building to building, meeting the administration and other students. Overwhelmed, Haven’s palms sweated and heart raced as they showed her the studios and enrolled her in classes, explaining the requirements as they took her around to the various galleries. Mandatory volunteer hours, optional summer sessions, semi-annual galas, and monthly counseling sessions . . . her anxiety skyrocketed, but it seemed to melt away the moment she stepped into the school’s library.
Tall stacks of books surrounded her, towering above her, welcoming her in to their familiar embrace. It reminded her of life in Durante, a time and place she had tried not to dwell on during the weeks as she settled into New York. Her life was starting anew—new people, new places, new things, new chances—but the old seemed to still have a strong grasp on her heart, squeezing and constricting, forcing her to hold back, longing and yearning for the love she had left behind, instead of looking ahead.
She lost Kelsey somewhere in the bustle of the day and ran into her again hours later as the sun was setting, the long day coming to an end. Kelsey stood in the lobby of the fine arts building next to a guy with spiky blond hair, her hand pressed against his chest, her face lit up with intense fascination.
They separated after a moment, the guy jogging past Haven and out the door. Kelsey stood there, silently fidgeting as she bit down on her bottom lip, but she let out a squeal when she spotted Haven. “My God, did you see him? Wasn’t he gorgeous?”
“Uh, sure,” Haven said, glancing out the massive glass windows at the boy standing on the sidewalk with a group of friends. “Who is he?”
“His name’s Peter something-or-other. He’s a senior! He asked me for my number, so of course I gave it to him. God! Do you think he’ll call? I hope he calls.”
Haven looked at her incredulously. “I thought you didn’t have time for a boyfriend.”
“I don’t,” she said, waving her off with a laugh. “I can date, though. No harm in that. Besides, a girl has to have some kind of fun, right?”
Rhetorical question, but Haven shrugged in response anyway.
“What about you?” Kelsey asked as the two of them headed out on their way back home. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
The innocent question, asked offhandedly, was like a sucker punch to Haven’s chest. It was the first time someone had asked her that. “Not anymore. I did, but . . . not anymore.”
Kelsey’s elated expression dimmed. “Ah, bad breakup?”
