She swallows. “I’m sorry, I should have been—see, that’s why I don’t like being forced to talk about my feelings.”
“Ah, so it’s my fault.”
“No, I—” She shakes her head. “Forget that part. I thought we might be able to make it work ...” Her voice is small, like she’s afraid of the words. “Long distance.”
I stare at her, hurt overwhelming me as the future I’vestupidly let myself imagine in crisp, perfect detail falls away. I’m a fucking idiot. Long distance. Somehow this hurts worse than her wanting a friendly visit next year. She does want to be with me—just not enough to change a single thing in her life. She doesn’t understand how much Ineedher at my side.
“Reeve?”
I swallow. “I can’t do long distance, Jade.”
She blinks in surprise. “So you’ve thought of us being together but only if I’m here? Only if I sacrifice my plans for you?”
“Long distance would never work. On two different continents for years? I’m not doing that.” I sound so certain, but I don’t know who’s talking right now, me or the side of me who’s so angry and hurt and bitter that I want to turn it all back on her.
I see the hurt in her eyes as my own stupid words echo between us. “So is that an ultimatum?”
“Reeve!”
I look up to find the fortysomething dude smiling down at me, and suddenly it clicks: Brian Atkins, the sports reporter who wrote that glowing article about me for the city paper back in September. The guy I’m hoping will vote for me to win the Heisman. “Mr. Atkins,” I say, trying to hide my agitation as I reach out to shake his hand. “Great to see you again.”
“Brian,” he corrects me affably. “Fantastic game on Saturday. Congratulations on the record, that’s really something. So great to see your season’s on the upswing.”
“Thanks, Brian.” I smile hard, trying to make up for the fact that I can’t think of a single thing to say to this guy right now. I glance over at Jade, who still looks pissed. She’s not even gonna pretend to be polite. There’s a brief awkward silence as Brian follows my gaze. “Oh. Brian, this is my girlfriend, Jade.”
“Nice to meet you,” Brian says. “Sorry to interrupt yourdinner. I just saw Reeve over here and wanted to offer a quick congratulations.”
“No, that’s okay,” Jade says, getting to her feet. “I was on my way out.”
I try to smile like everything’s cool. “You can’t hang out a minute?”
“Nice meeting you,” Jade says, looking at Brian apologetically. But by the time her eyes meet mine, they’ve gone cold. “See you later.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
jade
“Why doI always get it wrong?” I whine Saturday afternoon as I’m sprawled out on Madison’s white linen sofa. “I’m actually getting worse at relationships the older I get.”
“Come on,” Madison says.
“I am. At least my seventh-grade boyfriend was actually sad when we broke up. Every guy since then can’t wait to cut the strings and run for sweet freedom.”
Reeve and I haven’t talked since I walked out of the restaurant Thursday night—a painful forty-two hours ago, not that I’m counting. It was immature to walk out like that, but the entire conversation was such a slap in the face. I was so sure he wanted what I did, and then to have Reeve make nice with that journalist—it was another reminder of his priorities. I can’t believe I was working up the nerve to tell him I loved him.
I thought he’d call me after our argument, and when he didn’t, my stubbornness and I decided we should leave him alone at least until the game was over. Hurt as I am, I don’t want what happened between us weighing on him when he needs to focus on football. But the game ended an hour ago—Iwatched every second he was on the field—and I’m still waiting to hear from him.
“It’s not like you guys broke up,” Lenni points out, bringing me a plate loaded with fancy cheeses, crackers, grapes, and a little cube of honeycomb. Madison has an obsession with charcuterie boards. “You had a miscommunication.”
“Yeah, he communicated very clearly that if we want to be together, I’ll make the sacrifices and he’ll keep living out his dreams.”
“So?” Lenni says. “You told me you wouldn’t give up Spain for him.”
“I was close, though. Meanwhile Reeve won’t even consider long distance. I was totally wrong about where his head was.”
My phone pings with a text, and I slide it out of the pocket of my yoga pants. “Shit.” Reeve’s name appears on the screen, and suddenly my heart is beating like I just ran a marathon. I sit up quickly.
Reeve:Thursday night was fucked up.
