“So, Mr.Two First Names.” He straightens up and shoves his crumpled-up chip bag into the back pocket of the seat in front of him, once again passive-aggressively ignoring my plea to call Jack by his name. “You’rereallyvisiting him for no reason? Or something’s going on?”
My heart’s hammering too fast to wonder if I’m really that transparent, or if Tyler’s still able to see through me like he always has. “I’m just going to visit him because I miss him. I already told you.”
He doesn’t seem to buy it, brow furrowing. His lower lip juts out the way it always does when he’s confused—the way that makes me feel like my heart is hiccupping. “A week before spring break?”
“A week before spring break.” I grind my teeth and grip my phone tighter in my hand, wishing it wasn’t defunct on this plane so I could at least spend the rest of my flight falling into the social media vortex and avoiding this conversation. We both know all there is to do is listen to my pre-saved podcasts or scroll through my camera roll—which is thankfully empty of any photos of ustogether, purged back when I was trying to heal my heart, even though I was responsible for breaking it. “Is there a problem with that?”
Tyler holds his hands up in surrender. “Nope, no problem. Just trying to make conversation, because it doesn’t sound like you to just impulsively hop on a plane and skip school.”
The exhaustion of the morning and the stress of the flight is getting to me, as well as the sharp stab in my heart from being read so well by a boy who shouldn’t know me at all anymore. I can practically feel the frayed strands of my patience giving way. “Well, stop making conversation about my relationship. You and I are broken up, Tyler. We’ve been broken up for a long time.”
He looks chastened, staring down at his lap with an unreadable expression on his face. “Trust me, Ol—Olive, I know exactly how long it’s been.” The way he says it, like he’s been counting the minutes or the hours or the days, makes me inhale quickly.
“It’s been over a year, Tyler.” I try to stand firm, but my voice sounds small.
His cough interrupts me, sharp and quick. “Fifteen months. I’m well aware.”
My neck starts to feel warm and itchy, and if possible, the already cramped plane makes it harder to breathe. I don’t even justify Tyler’s rebuttal with an answer, crossing my arms and staring pointedly at my TV screen, which silently shows the map of our plane over the United States. Right now, we’re coasting somewhere above the Midwest, still a while to go before we hit the open ocean.
I wasn’t foolish enough back then to think that Tyler and I would return to best friendship after the breakup—that’s never,in the history ofever,worked out for anyone. Still. I thought there would be a few weeks of total isolation and heartbreak and weirdness, and then we’d at least find our way back to each other as acquaintances, or we’d get to a shaky point where we could at least give each other small smiles in the hallway. Where we could look back at our relationship as something that may not have worked out but was fun and nice while it lasted. Where we could wish each other the best and move on.
I had every intention of getting to that point, but Tyler didn’t seem to be on board. Because that last moment together in the hallway was the final time I heard from him. In the days that followed, still reeling from the shock and hurt of everything that happened, I felt numb to it all. And the silent, dark, cold brick that was my unused phone was another painful reminder. Our nonstop chatter in the hallways became awkward glances darting away from each other as we carried our trays to opposite sides of the cafeteria. Hangouts before homeroom became me skirting into the building at the last possible second so I didn’t have to awkwardly riffle around my locker pretending to be busy so I didn’t look lonely. And even if it broke me from the inside out, I know the pain I felt then was entirely deserved.
Tyler’s voice is quiet now, breaking through my thoughts. “It’s just…I don’t know, Ol. Skipping a week of classes before spring break to see your boyfriend who you were already going to see a week from now, anyway? That’s not like you.” He runs a hand through his hair, visibly distressed. “None of this is like you.”
“I told you to call me Olive. I don’t use that nickname anymore.” It’s out of my mouth like a reflex, but I immediately wish I could take it back when I see the hurt on his face. But I’ll do anything to distract myself from the tight, squeezing feeling inmy chest, knowing no amount of hoodie wearing or arm crossing is going to hide how I’m feeling from Tyler. He’s always been good at reading me.
“Just talk to me,” he pleads in a hushed voice. “I know you, Olive. I may not have dated you in over a year, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know you. It doesn’t mean I can’t tell when something’s going on.”
The gentle caring in his voice is what pushes me over the edge, makes me cave in like it always has. The words rush out before I have a chance to stop them. “I don’t understand what’s going on, Tyler. I’m not sure yet. That’s why I have to find out.”
Understanding dawns on his face. “Find out what, Olive? What are you racing toward?”
I shake my head, tugging at the uncomfortably tight seat belt in my lap. “I don’t know.” I hope I won’t end up runningfromsomething.
“Olive.” Tyler’s voice is steady as he reaches across the armrest and places the tips of his fingers on the inside of my wrist, rough skin against smooth. “Talk to me. As a…as a friend. Please.”
As a friend.It’s what I wanted, right? The place I’d hoped we’d get to after I blew everything up?
But now I’m not sure it’s possible. Still, in this moment, trapped in the sky with the boy I once loved, I find myself telling him everything, from the start.
Chapter Nine
Though leaving Tyler felt like a necessary evil, and it hurt like absolute hell, I had no choice but to pick up and keep moving. With the rest of junior year still ahead of me and senior year looming on the horizon, I was ready to buckle down and at least focus on my academic future, since it felt like the only thing I had any control over at the time.
I was still reeling from the soul-shattering heartbreak of ending things with Tylerandswiftly losing Delia and all our mutual friends in the process. In that moment, all I really needed—or wanted—was a friend.
Jack filled that space, being kind and warm and friendly and funny at a time when it felt like I needed it most. We slipped into our rapport easily, and the fact that we seemed to be two of the most overly ambitious students at Becker High helped. We’d chat after school and sit together while he did his chemistry homework and I would ink my upcoming study schedule into my planner. He was always commenting about how neat my handwriting was, or how I always had a planner sticker for everything.
Soon we transitioned from library study sessions tooccasional coffee shop meetups, discussing the best interview prep strategies—which became weekly hangouts, and then talks over dinners.
By the time I was invited as a plus-one to a fundraiser his family was attending, we’d unofficially been “together” for a little over a month. I got to borrow one of his sister Isabelle’s dresses, a deep green gown with a structured bodice beaded with delicate crystals that took my breath away and was easily the nicest garment I’d ever put on my body. She’d discarded it asso last seasonbut it still made me feel like a princess, heart swooping and soaring every time the lush emerald hemline brushed the floor.
The feeling of self-confidence was so nice that it didn’t even bother me that my lips didn’t tingle with fireworks after our first kiss. Jack and I were standing outside of the venue waiting for the valet to bring back his car when he’d leaned forward, brushing his hand against the small of my back, splaying his fingers and pulling me closer. As he pressed his lips to mine gently, itshould’vefelt perfect. It should’ve felt movie-worthy—him in his sharp tux, me in a gorgeous ball gown, the cold air of the night swirling around us and contraband champagne on our tongues and music floating out from the ballroom, the stars sparkling above our heads.
It definitely feltnice.I wouldn’t lie about that—but I do remember feeling a quick surprise in my chest when I didn’t experience thezingingmy lips felt after Tyler first kissed me in his Jeep, his tongue tasting like Coke slushy and buttery popcorn.
Not long after Jack and I got together, I “officially” drifted out of my old friend group’s orbit—mainly because they werestill friends with Tyler, which made things extra awkward and painful—and into the bubble of Jack and his friends, who took me in, albeit with lukewarm acceptance.
