Seriously, who even let her get this good at giving advice?
I noticed the twitch at the corner of Sam's mouth. She's fighting back a grin. Like she knows she's won me over.
I narrow my eyes at her. "I know what you're thinking."
She shrugs, all innocence. "Don't know what you're talking about, Care."
"Right. Uh-huh." I roll my eyes.
Her grin breaks through as her brows wiggle, her usual mischief sliding back into place. "So... you're going, right?"
I don't answer. My face stays unreadable, though inside my chest there's a storm tearing me apart.
Instead, I shift on the bed, carefully setting the manuscript aside before sliding down under the duvet. I tug it up around me and mumble, "Goodnight."
Sam huffs, her voice pitching into a whine. "Oh, come on..."
I ignore her. I just close my eyes, tugging the duvet higher like maybe it can block her out.
But of course, it doesn't block out my brain.
I want to go. God, part of me really wants to go.
Then another voice cuts in.No. Don't be stupid. There's no point. He already showed you who he is—why let him do it again?
But what if Sam's right?
Does it even matter?
My mind won't stop.Yes. No. Go. Don't go. Over and over until it makes me dizzy.
In the end, I tell myself it's better if I don't go.
The words taste bitter, but I hold onto them anyway. And only then, exhausted from fighting myself, do I finally let sleep drag me under.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CAROLINE
The Pond looked ridiculous. Ostentatious, even. Like, who needed a hockey house this flashy just to crash, drink, and party?
God, what the hell am I doing here?
I told myself I wasn't going to come. I swore up and down last night that I was staying home, that the safest choice was staying far away.
And yet—here I am. Standing outside the door like an idiot, debating whether I should knock... or just turn around and bolt.
Seriously, Caroline, why? Why did you think this was such a great idea? Because newsflash—it's not. It's a terrible idea. Worst idea of the year.
The music inside rattles the front windows—bass thumping so hard it feels like it's shaking the ground beneath my shoes. I can hear the shouting and laughter too, the kind of chaos only a college party can brew. Cups clinking, someone screaming"chug, chug, chug,"and the unmistakable shriek of girls way too drunk already.
Not that I'm unfamiliar with the scene. Please. I went to NYU. I've seen plenty of parties, most of them wilder than this one. But tonight? I'm not here for the keg stands or the beer pong or the fake-ID freshmen puking in the bushes.
No. Tonight I'm here for one thing only. To stop running. To face my former best friend and act like the actual adult I keep pretending to be.
And it's all Sam's fault.
Damn her and her stupid wisdom, with her wide eyes and her calm voice and her"closure, Care, you need closure."
