I text back: Let’s meet up tomorrow night at 8. I can’t wait to see you!

“Who can’t you wait to see?”

I try to hide my phone, but Huxley’s too fast. I guess since we had a heart-to-heart, she believes she can know every detail of my life now. My face turns redder than a Solo cup as she scrolls through my messages.

“Wow, Rebecca. I had no idea.”

“I’m not a home wrecker,” I blurt out, which makes me sound super guilty. Looking for a distraction, I zero in on the keg and wait in line behind two guys with an aversion to grooming. We use their mushroom-cloud hair as cover in case Steve should come through.

“Do you love him?” Huxley asks, cutting to the heart of the matter.

I search for a definite answer. “I don’t know.”

“I thought you and Val were close friends.”

“We are!”

“Would you throw away that relationship for one with Ezra?”

How is Huxley so good with questions? She doesn’t mince words. Stalling, I glance to my left. A girl sips her beer and makes a stink face, then proceeds to pour out the rest of it on the carpet. I don’t even want to see Huxley’s reaction.

“‘Throwing away’ sounds so harsh. It’s more complicated than that,” I say.

“Not really. You are freely hooking up with her boyfriend. Why should she stay friends with you?”

“Because we’re best friends.” My head spins with guilt. I can’t live in a world where Val and I aren’t speaking. But does that mean I have to stay away from Ezra? I don’t want to live in that world either.

“I don’t know what to do. I can’t be with him, but I want to so badly.”

Huxley sizes me up. A satisfied smile is planted on her face, like she knows something I don’t.

“You don’t love him,” she says matter-of-factly.

Her confident tone ticks me off.

“You two sound like star-crossed lovers, and as you pointed out in English class, that makes you quote-unquote ‘full-on crazy.’ Knowing you shouldn’t be with Ezra makes you want him more.”

I’m shocked that Huxley was listening to me that day, and that she could quote me.

“Maybe Romeo and Juliet were in love,” I say.

“No. They weren’t full-on crazy, but definitely up there.” Huxley laughs at me, the first time she’s relaxed today. “What drew them together was the excitement of getting caught. That’s not love.”

“Or maybe they just fell for each other under really cruddy circumstances.”

“But what would’ve happened when things calmed down, when Romeo didn’t have to recite sonnets and get in sword fights? What would they be like on a random Tuesday? The couples that thrive on drama flame out the quickest. I’ve seen it a million times.”

I had a bunch of witty retorts, but they all fade away. I’m left gawking at my foamy beer, shocked that Huxley Mapother said something so...un-Huxley Mapother-ish. Do Ezra and I think we’re star-crossed lovers? Maybe that’s part of the excitement I feel when I think about him, knowing that I shouldn’t be thinking about him.

“And also, I have a feeling Ezra is the first guy who was ever into you. Am I right?”

She may be right, but I still find it rude. She reads my clenched expression.

“I thought so.”

He wasn’t my first kiss, though. I made out with a guy at a Model UN convention last year. He was from Ghana—at the convention, not in real life.

Huxley clinks my cup, and we drink. Now I know what sewer water tastes like.

“This is all so new for you,” she says. “I was in your shoes once, and I’m not condescending. I really was. I remember the mouthwash that fell out of Steve’s pocket, and that moment when I knew he was going to kiss me and my life was going to change forever. It’s so exhilarating. I think that’s what you like about Ezra. You like that he likes you.”

I scoff at the remark. “That sounds like Val.”

“Well, that’s why you two are best friends. You’re so alike. Honestly, I’m kind of jealous of the relationship you guys have. I don’t have that with any of my friends.”

“I shouldn’t throw it away.” The epiphany knocks me to the ground. I don’t care that I’m wearing a nice skirt. I sit cross-legged on the grimy floor, much to Huxley’s dismay. She’s right—I fell for the relationship crap, just like Val. Val just vocalizes what I refuse to say. I thought I was stronger than that. I thought I couldn’t be duped.

I’m half relationship zombie.

“I know what you need.” A guy in a baby-blue polo and cargo shorts grabs my free hand and pulls me up off the floor. He yells into my ear. I could get drunk off his breath. “You need. To do. A keg stand.”

“A what?”

“It’ll be good clean fun! I promise,” he says in his Southern twang, which is impossible not to swoon over. It’s the American version of a British accent.

“Um, sure.”

He takes my hand. Huxley clutches my other hand and pulls me away. “No. You’re not doing a keg stand. You’re wearing a skirt, Rebecca!”

We hear a holler loud enough to overpower the noise, and Greg Baylor barges into the far end of the hall. Beer stains streak his Chandler University T-shirt, but he certainly isn’t letting that get him down.

“It’s the beer train!” he says to the three girls behind him. “Chugga-chugga, chugga-chugga.”

Huxley and I turn away from him. We push through the tightly packed partygoers, who are magically parting for Greg’s train. We keep our heads down as he gets closer.

He stops at the keg, while Huxley and I flee into the common room. We sidestep around grinding girls and pass a contemplative foursome of wallflowers who came to the wrong place for conversation. Rows of house photos line the room.

In the photos, the boys look like respectable gentlemen. A guy in his underwear and a cowboy hat races past us, grazing Huxley’s boobs.

Pictures can be so deceiving.

We squeeze into a circle three people deep that lines the dining room table. They’re cheering something that I can’t see.

“That was close!” I say.

“If Greg’s here, then Steve has to be close.”

Very close.

Like right in front of us.

In the center of the circle is Steve, taking body shots off two blondes in bikinis lying on the dining table.

He slurps down both shots without looking up and garners whoops and hollers. Some Southern guy even yells, “Yee-haw!”

Steve smiles so wide that his teeth may fall out of his mouth.

“I need some air,” Huxley says.

* * *

Flying first class isn’t as fun on the return trip. I can’t enjoy my tortellini centimeters from an ailing Huxley.

I keep thinking about the couples I’ve broken up. I plot and scheme, but I’m never present for the personal anguish that comes with breaking up. I’ve never had to watch it firsthand.

“What are you going to do? Are you going to break up with him?”

Huxley locks eyes with me. Her misery has hardened into determination. “No. I’m going to fight for the guy I love.” She sips on her water. “What are you going to do about Ezra?”

The pilot makes an announcement that we’re getting ready to land. It’s time to reenter reality, and I’m prepared.

33

Ezra meets me at a Dunkin’ Donuts near my house. My heart has a mild gush when he sits down at the table. I can’t help it. It’s not fully on board with my head yet.

“Hey there! You’ve come out from hiding.” He reaches for my hand. I yank it back into my lap. His eyebrows squiggle in confusion.

“We need to talk.”

“This sounds ominous.”

“It kind of is.”

“Listen, I know you’re upset about the whole Val thing. But it will get done.”

I gaze into his hazel eyes one last time. They reflect the glint of waning sunlight pouring through the window. They’re beautiful, and that’s about it.

They’re just eyes.

“I can’t date you.”

He slumps back in his chair and shakes his head a bunch. “I thought we had something.”

“We did, but Val and I have something stronger.”

“I really could see myself falling in—”

“But could you? Really?” I notice how easily he throws that word around. It seems like it loses its power the more it’s said.

Ezra shrugs his shoulders, resigned to my decision, which he’s figured out won’t change. “I guess it’s like the end of Casablanca. I have to let you get on that plane.”

“What do you think would’ve happened if Ilsa didn’t get on that plane? She and Rick would’ve gotten bored with each other once things died down.” I rein myself in. I’m already breaking up with the guy. I don’t have to ruin his favorite movie. “I’m sorry, Ezra. You’re a good guy, honestly.”

“Thanks.”

That wasn’t so bad. Maybe messy break-ups are only for immature people.

“I know I don’t have any business asking you any favors, but this time, when you break up with Val, please do it in person. She’s a good person, and she deserves that much.”

“Who says I’m breaking up with Val?” Ezra takes a bite of his donut. He rubs the smear of chocolate frosting from the corner of his mouth and licks it off his fingers.

“What? But you aren’t into her!”

“Val and I have had our ups and downs, but maybe there’s something there.”

“There isn’t.” Five minutes ago, he was all set to break up with her. It will get done. He was ready to cross it off his list like taking out the trash. Now he flipped a switch, and he’s back on the “falling in love with Val” track?

“I have to give things a real chance.”

“And then you’re just going to dump her when something better comes along?”