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Dad points his fork at me. “You should start thinking about it now, while you still have time.” Dad chews, looking thoughtful as he stares down at his plate, while inside I’m screaming, wishing to talk about anything, but this. I know I still need to figure things out. However, I still have my last semester of my junior year to get through. Isn’t senior year the year I need to buckle down?
“You went to Paris that one summer,” I hear Dad say, and I feel a wave of nausea hit me. Is the hot dog spaghetti finally getting to me?
“Yeah,” I say with a nod, and grab my glass of water, downing it quickly.
“Have you contacted them at all? They could offer you a job? Although, you will have to figure out visas and living expenses if you decide to move to Europe.” Dad chuckles and shakes his head. “Wouldn’t that be the dream?”
“Yeah,” I breathe.
Inside, I literally feel like I’m dying. There’s no way I can move to Paris. If I do, then what will happen to Hunter? Seth? Lucas? Alex? Seth and Alex are training to try out for another Olympics team. Hunter just applied to do grad school at Aurora University to get his teaching certificate. Lucas is getting published and still making a name for himself. None of us are ready to move to Paris together. And there’s the whole matter of me getting a job. So Paris is definitely out, but what do I want to do? The bros have their futures practically figured out whereas here I am, floundering around, with no idea other than I like to take pictures and paint.
When I went to Paris with the bros, I feel like I had an idea of who and what I wanted to be, but with this divorce, I haven‘t been as enthusiastic. What do I want to do with my life? What do I want to be? I’m not just the bros’ girlfriend. I’m so much more than that, and yet, my life revolves completely around them. I have no clue what I want to do when I graduate, and that absolutely terrifies me.
Chapter 4
SETH
TimesSquareisashit show. Tourists pack into the street, huddling together while flurries cascade down around us. Someone I don’t know elbows me in the ribs. Another, steps on my toe. I grind my teeth to keep my insults to myself, but an apology would be nice. Whatever happened to being polite? Typical New York uppity assholes.
I stuff my hands deeper into my pockets, which aren’t deep enough. This coat is old. I’ve had it since I was fourteen—stole it from Wallie World and everything. The arm is shedding, the stuffing slowly coming out. It blends into the frost on the ground. I probably should get a new one, but it’s either a new coat, or new running shoes. This boy needs to race, and getting into the Olympics will provide me with a hundred new coats.
“I don’t think I can feel my hands,” Alex whines next to me, his teeth chattering while he jumps up and down.
I frown up at the ball, keeping my eyes off him though. It’s hard. My whole body is tuned to his every movement and every time he whines about the weather, I can’t help glancing over at him, taking in his flushed face, the shine in his blue eyes, his swollen lips.
Ugh. I need to stop. This is getting ridiculous.
“We could be watching this on my parents’ widescreen TV, “Alex continues. “Where it’s warm!”
Rachel chuckles and I watch her rub her gloved hands together. Snow catches in her hair, melting the ends, and in that moment there is something magical about freezing to death outside, surrounded by a hundred neon lights.
“Where’s the fun in that?” she asks. “Besides, we went to your parents’ party last year. Isn’t it fun to do something new for a change?” She gestures around at the jostling crowd and the snow as if standing out in the cold for several hours can be considered fun.
I guess it is when you’re with Rachel.
“I’m dying,” Alex groans. He tosses back his head and releases a sharp breath, Fog bursts from his mouth, and I hold back my laughter at the scowl that takes hold of his features. “See. I can see my breath.”
“Oh, stop complaining,” I say while wading myself between them, stifling a grimace at the shiver in my voice. “This is great.”
Alex scoffs. “Uh-huh, sure.”
I still. My heart fluttering as Alex comes into view, taking off his thick Gucci scarf and wrapping it snuggly around my neck. His leather gloved fingers graze my cheek lightly. It should mean nothing. It’s not even sexy but somehow, something ignites inside me and pools to my front. My tongue goes numb and the cold instantly vanishes as I gaze up at him, feeling both aroused and mortified. I try to pull away from him, but my body betrays me, remaining rooted at Rachel’s side, who is too busy saying something to Hunter to notice
This isn’t supposed to be happening. I already made it very clear that the kiss in Chicago meant nothing to me—that Alex should pretend nothing ever happened. I keep repeating it to myself. It meant nothing. Move on. Alex doesn’t feel that way towards me. However, my heart has yet to listen to my head. And Alex’s kindness is not helping me forget the way his lips felt on mine, or how I like the way he tilts his head when he’s listening intently, or how his eyes light up when he’s excited about something.
Fuck. I need to stop.
“There,” Alex says when he finishes tying the scarf around me. “That should keep you warm. You looked like you were about to keel over.”
An ache wraps tightly around my heart. He noticed I was cold? Why? Does he look at me often? My face heats, feeling like I stuck it inside an erupting volcano. I should say thank you, but the only word that comes out of my foul mouth is, “Whatever,” as I turn away from him.
I need to let go, I tell myself over and over again. I can’t ruin things for Rachel.
“Rachey!” a woman’s voice I recognize calls.
I turn towards the sound, thankful to see Rachel’s mother, Sarah, pushing her way through the crowd. She’s holding a drink carrier with several mugs inside. Behind her, a tall, George Clooney wannabe follows, dressed in a long, dark suit coat with ear muffs over his graying brown hair.
“Mom!” Rachel shouts, smiling yet I can tell it’s forced. Her brows are pinched together into a tight grimace and her tone is laced with irritation.
