“Hey, Leo,” the girl says, still turned toward her textbook. “Sorry, I threw my stuff on your bed when I got here—I can move it if you want.” I can’t see her face, but a waterfall of auburn hair cascades down her back, and she’s wearing petal-pink socks on her feet, which are kicked up behind her and gently nudgingJack’s own, almost absentmindedly, as they work together. They look like a couple—a much better fit of a couple than me and Jack, being that we’ve never played footsie with one another while working on homework, bantering lightly and laughing while doing so. Everything with Jack had always been strict, neat, stoic, and poised. It was just the way he was—howwewere.
But not him and whoever this is.
Even if it hurts to admit, they look happy. Happy and at peace.
When whoever Leo is—probably Jack’s roommate—doesn’t answer them, they both turn and look at me. The girl frowns a little bit, eyebrows drawn, puzzling out who I am.
Jack, however, looks as shell-shocked as I feel, his bright blue eyes widening to match the popped-open O of his mouth. Almost instantly, his face drains of color, becoming even paler than he was before he left for school. I notice a new sprinkling of freckles on his cheeks and arms, no doubt brought out by the Hawaiian sun. His blond hair seems to have gotten even blonder, and it lost some of the perfect, close-cut trim it always had and looks a bit looser, a bit calmer, a bit more beachy.
“Olive.” He doesn’t say my name with any of the surprise or excitement that I was hoping he’d feel. He doesn’t even look pleased to see me. What he looks like is a kid who’s been caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing—the expression of a child who knows they’re out of places to hide and there’s about to be hell to pay.
“I tried to call you.” My voice comes out strangled, and I can’t stop staring at the spot where their socks meet as they look at me over their shoulders. “I called you a few times, actually. Wanted to let you know that I was coming a week early as a surprise.” Ithink of all the stickers in this week’s planner page—the plane, the palm trees, the ocean, even a holographic shining sun. And it makes me think of that stupid diamond ring sticker from the morning Asher broke up with my mom before they went to Vegas—and how everything was ruined when I had to rip it out of the planner, to get rid of the cruel reminder.
I can only imagine how destroyed the pages will be if I have to lift up all these stickers.
Jack doesn’t know what to say to any of this, his mouth set in a grim line. But he has the same calculating expression I’ve seen on him a million times before when I helped him practice for college interviews, or Yale alumni events with his dad, or when he was trying to nail a particular presentation during his senior year. It’s his look of evaluating all options when he finds himself backed into a corner, figuring out what to do next.
The girl notices my discomfort, shifting subtly and stretching her legs out flat on the ground behind her, toes out of Jack’s reach. “Hi, um…who are you?” She looks to Jack for an explanation, but he’s still staring at me and blinking rapidly, as if he can’t believe I’m really here.
“I’m Olive.” I’m surprised I can hear my own voice over the sound of my warbling heart. A flare of rage spikes inside me, and I feel the venom on my tongue before I register what I’m saying, delivering what could possibly be a very devastating blow to this girl. “I’m Jack’s girlfriend. From home.” I think back to the disbelief on Siena’s and Rio’s faces when I told them that at the first senior party I went to. The way Mira—who I hadn’t seen in the hallways of school since—came to my rescue.
It’s hard trying to fit into Jack Cameron’s world, isn’t it?
But the g-word doesn’t land like I expect it to. This girl’seyes don’t widen, and her mouth doesn’t drop open in shock. She doesn’t turn to Jack, who is still sitting there looking shell-shocked, and demand clarification. Instead, she smiles warmly.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Her melodic voice is nothing but pleasant and welcoming. “I’m Lilly. I’ve heard a bit about you.” I can’t help but notice that she saysa bitinstead ofa lot.Don’t most people normally say they’ve heard a lot about someone’s significant other?Or does Jack not care enough to mention me much at all?She spins the pen in her hand around her fingers casually, not at all stressed out by my presence.Who the hell is this girl, then?
“Olive.” Jack starts to finally speak, seemingly spurred by the sound of Lilly’s voice. He looks like he’s chewing on glass as he flounders for what to say. “It’s not what it looks like.”
Lilly nods seriously, attempting to smooth over my worries. “It’s really not, even though that was an absurdly cliché thing for him to say.” She shoots him a look, and if we weren’t in the situation we were in, I think I would’ve laughed at her comment, impressed by her wit. But even though she doesn’t seem to be in a love triangle with me and my boyfriend, I still have no idea who this girl is, or why she’s playing footsie with Jack. “We’re friends from calculus class. We’ve been studying for the midterm coming up, nothing more.” She holds her hands up in anI come in peacegesture, but it could just as easily mirror a look of surrender.
“I called you” is all I say in response, turning to Jack, hating how childish and hurt my voice sounds as I repeat myself. “And sent a bunch of texts. And plenty more in the past week, all that went unanswered.” Lilly winces at this, eyes darting quickly over to Jack as if to chastise him for his stupidity.
Jack, to his credit, looks mortified. “I’ve been really busy, and things have been going on. You wouldn’t get it. You’re not in college—”
“Dude.” Lilly’s sharp laugh punctures his sentence and deflates it right in the middle. “Seriously? That’s the excuse you’re going with for being a shitty boyfriend to her?”
His eyes dart between the two of us now, even more cornered than he was a few seconds ago. And although I still don’t trust the girl or know much about who she is, it’s nice to feel like I’m not the only one who’s unimpressed by Jack’s answer.
But he just doubles down, digging the hole in my heart even deeper. “It’s true, Lil. She doesn’t get how much more stressful it is than high school, and all the studying, and how busy you wind up being all the time—”
“Oh, shut it, Jack.” Lilly is standing now, gathering her books and notes and pens and pencils and shoving them into the backpack on Leo’s bed. “I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but at least don’t feed herthatshit.” She zips up her bag and tosses it over her shoulder, giving me a look that could mean eitherMen, right?OrI’m so sorry you have to deal with this, but I’m getting out of here,before slipping out the door and down the hall. “Good luck,” she whispers as she goes past, and I’m not sure if it’s directed at me or him.
The interloper now gone, Jack has no respite from the hurt—and honestly, fury—that’s roiling through me. The long hours on the plane, feeling gross from the stale air and sugary snacks, and the hurt swirling inside me all create a fiery combination that bubbles to the surface. “Really, Jack? You were toobusy? I don’t get it because I’m not in college? Give me a break.” I’ve been annoyed at Jack sometimes, sure, and occasionally even hurtby him when his stupid, snobby friends didn’t accept me with the warmth Tyler’s friends once did, but I’ve never felt like this toward him—burning with an anger that is flirting dangerously close to hatred.
He runs his hands through his hair and then cups his head, leaning forward and staring at the floor. “Going radio silent definitely wasn’t the best choice I’ve made lately, I’ll give you that. But I can explain it all, Olive, I can. Please just give me the chance.”
I didn’t come this far to turn back now, so I cross my arms and do my best to channel my anger more than my hurt. “Why’d you ignore me, then?”
Hearing my concession, Jack looks up in surprise before scrambling to his feet. He stands awkwardly for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, before he crosses the room and wraps me up in a hug.
“It’s so great to see you, Olive,” he whispers into my hair, squeezing me tight. “Thanks for the surprise.”
In any other moment, I’d melt happily into his embrace, but my arms are still crossed and now squished uncomfortably against our stomachs. “Why’d you ignore me, Jack?” I’m fully mumbling against his shoulder, and as soon as he notices, he steps back and drops his arms at his sides, looking sheepish.
“Okay,” he begins, sitting on the edge of his bed. “First, let me be entirely clear—nothing’s happened between me and Lilly. Not asinglething, Olive. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.” He looks so earnest and miserable that I know in my heart he’s telling the truth. That may relieve one of my worries, but it sure as hell doesn’t solve everything.
“You’re still not giving me an answer.” I’ve never been thissharp with him before, and I can see that I’m visibly rattling him, his expression more urgent now. He pats the space on the bed next to him, urging me to sit—and against my better judgment, I do. I’ve still had a long trip and am super exhausted, so even though I want to stick to my guns and stand, I don’t.
