“Well, he did when I left. I have no idea now,” I mumble, and she gasps, making me glance at her.
“What if you guys reconnect again? C’mon, I can tell you wouldn’t be totally opposed to the idea.”
Panic fills me for a bit, and I turn around briskly, losing my balance on a roll of tape on the floor. Jamie glances at me in confusion fused with concern. I play it off by grabbing another unmade box from the pile, my hand wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
She scoffs and comes closer to me, poking me jokingly. “Bianca, puh-lease. I see it every time we talk about him. Your face lights up.”
I stand back up to my full height. “Can we just not talk about it?” I ask sharply, and her look of defiance drops. I rub a hand over my face, feeling exhausted, my aching muscles crying out. “Look, J, yes, I’ve thought about it. And it terrifies me,” I whisper, sitting on my bed, catching her attention, and she slides next to me. “Our friendship ended so abruptly, and it’s something I never got closure on. Besides, getting denied from UPenn essentially was the kicker telling me I no longer belong here. There’s so much going through my head, and while talking about Liam used to bring me so much happiness ...” I wipe at the tears welling in my eyes. “It doesn’t anymore.”
Jamie looks at me with understanding and leans over to hug me. I embrace her at the same time my phone buzzes. My eyes dart down to see Mom’s contact photo lighting up my screen, but I don’t bother picking it up.
CHAPTER THREE
LIAM
“Dude!”
I practically slam the room door shut, wishing with everything I have that I can remove that picture from my mind. Smack-dab in the hallway of my housing building, I groan while banging my head on the wall, cringing at the noises from inside of my room that have resumed.
“Hang a sock on the handle or something next time!” I yell, getting looks from the other guys that live across from us. Rolling my eyes, I look down at my watch, seeing I have an hour or so before my next class, and no enjoyable place to study.
Well, technically . . .
No, Irefuse.
I promised myself I would stop going to the planetarium. It brings so many memories, ones I’m trying so desperately to forget. The mind is a funny thing. I’m on a fifteen-hundred-acre campus filled with places to do schoolwork, yet I can’t focus at any of them.
A gruff “thank you” falls from my lips as someone holds the door open, and I instantly miss the air conditioning as I step into theblistering sunshine en route to the library. The security guard waves at me like always, greeting me in Spanish. I return the sentiment, thankful he hasn’t started a whole conversation with me yet.
While I’m technically half Colombian, I experienced a very American childhood. I can definitely understand Spanish, but speaking it is a whole other ball game. I head toward some empty desks, intent on avoidingthatroom. Though, when I see the planetarium unoccupied, I stop and fight with myself, nostalgia winning in the end. Sighing, I slip between the two large mahogany doors, thethunkof them shutting the only sound in the room. The smell of dust and faint lemon wafts around.
Taking a quick look, I twist the dial to darken the space and I flip a switch. Orion’s Belt lights up the ceiling. A small smile starts on my face, and I adjust it slightly, with Ursa Major glowing and twinkling a bit brighter. I lean on the industrial-sized telescope that’s used as a decoration after being replaced by a more expensive and updated piece.
The bliss found in silence soothes me, and after a bit of marveling at our universe far beyond our usual beautiful sky, I raise the light slightly, but don’t turn off the projector. Placing my backpack on the floor and taking out my sketchbook along with a couple of pencils, I start perfecting my latest drawing.
It’s always the same thing when I’m here. I get this burst of motivation, and the only signal my brain sends to my hands is for them to draw. Smudging to create a shadow along the face, I hold the notebook, sighing as I realize I once again drew blemishes in the pattern I always have. My traitorous heart and mind making sure I truly never forget.
I look down at my hand as I connect the small dots, scattering across her face—all from memory. I sigh, this girl reflecting someone who I’ve never been able to stop thinking about.
Bianca Harrison.
My pencil stops at the thought and I slide a hand through my hair in frustration, pulling at the strands. It’s been five years sinceI last talked to Bianca and eight since she left, yet I feel like it was yesterday. An ache starts in my heart as always, my mind trying to think of something else, trying to minimize the mental torture.
When I was twelve years old, I had promised my best friend I would never forget her, no matter what. How could I when she was at the root of every decision I’ve made? When she left, even if she had to, I refused to let life take her away mentally.
Emotionally.
I mean, we would talk almost every night for years. It was so good,wewere so good.
Yet, on her birthday of all days,I messed up; I admitted it then and as an adult, I admit it now. What killed me was when I tried to text her a couple days later, my message didn’t go through. My heart dropped, my hands almost trembled, but I held out hope. Then, when I called her and it immediately went to voicemail ... I knew.
My best friend, the girl who I secretly loved, wanted nothing to do with me. The memory leaves a bitter taste in my mouth even all these years later.
The serene music from the speakers in the room makes its presence known, causing my thoughts to be even more nostalgic. I mean, I was hurt and lashed out by saying what I said, but to completely cut me off?
Searing my heart, I threw myself into anything and everything. It didn’t matter; I needed something to stop thinking, something to redirect that ache. With lots of hard work, I graduated high school as salutatorian and was accepted into my dream school: Mella Colta University.
It was the best news I had received in a while, and with my major being aerospace engineering, it was the closest I could get to grappling with what little bit I had shared with her. Stargazing was always our thing, and now I study the machines that take others to observe everything up close.
