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“Well, I turned down both trip offers but not the rest of it.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I forgave Jack and told him I’d consider making things official between us. And I told Nate I’d consider going away for the entire summer with him.”
“Aren’t you ambitious.” She laughs again before her tone becomes serious. “What choice are you leaning toward?”
“If I had the answer to that, I wouldn’t be sitting on a bench at midnight bothering your ass.”
“Good point. Then we make a list. Pros and cons.”
“Doesn’t that seem a little…dispassionate?”
“Because you’ve done so well without my help?” Eliza snickers when I don’t answer. “Thought so. Never question my methods.”
So we do it her way. I arrange for an Uber and then, while I wait for it, Eliza and I make a list. Matching Jack’s steadiness against Nate’s spontaneity.
Jack’s cocky laughter versus Nate’s rare cheekiness.
That mellow, silly, comfortable way I feel with Jack compared to the excitement and passion Nate sparks in me.
And once again, it comes back to who I envision myself to be when I’m with them.
But who am I, damn it? What do I most connect with? Theallure of the free spirit I can be, trotting the globe and living life to its fullest? Or a simpler, laughter-filled, everyday existence appreciating the little pleasures?
Both have their appeal.
Ultimately, what this exercise tells me is that I still don’t know myself at all.
Three days later, my anxiety has peaked, and I’m no closer to figuring out what I want. I know my dad is convinced you can’t love two people at once, but the longer I obsess over Jack and Nate, the more I doubt Dad’s conviction.
I think he’s wrong.
I think I’m in love with them both.
I keep waiting for my heart to put me out of my misery. Give me an answer. A sign. But I’m as torn today as I’ve ever been, and I have no clue what to do about it.
So I’ve fallen back on old habits of avoidance. Sequestering myself in the library under the pretense of homework and research. Hiding from the conflicting emotions I’m unable to understand or to process.
But these past few days, a creeping feeling has crawled its way into my brain and burrowed deep. The awful, unsettling nausea of wondering if I’ve made a terrible mistake by not choosing to go to Budapest with Nate.
Or Sydney with Jack.
I should’ve just agreed to go.
To Budapest.
Or Sydney.
I release a silent scream as I trudge down the sidewalk toward the Talbot Library. I’m liable to drive myself mad at this point. Whatever. Fine. I didn’t say yes to either trip. That might be the least of my concerns right now.
Because they’ll both be back in a week wanting an answer to the question that matters: Do I love them too? And if so, which one?
As I’m approaching my usual table, Mr. Baxley spots me and marches over with unusual haste.
“You’re late, Ms. Bly,” he reprimands me, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.
I eye him in amusement. “Am I? I didn’t realize we’d made an appointment.”
