I grab plates from the cabinet and help Mom set the table. The smell of waffles and coffee fills the kitchen. I take a seat next to her and load my plate, pretending not to think about why Clay couldn’t tell me about the ticket he bought me himself.
When I go back to my room, something catches my eye—a white envelope sitting on my dresser. I didn’t notice it when I woke up. My name’s written on the front in his handwriting. Underneath it is his Kolmont hoodie, folded neatly like he meant for me to find it. The same one he wore last night.
Inside is a single plane ticket with my name on it. The date printed on the confirmation is from last night. My stomach twists as it sinks in.
He booked it before he ever came to see me. Before he fell asleep with his arms wrapped around me.
I sit on the edge of the bed, clutching the hoodie to my chest and breathing in the faint trace of him still clinging to the fabric. I don’t know if I should be angry or just sad. I pull out my phone and type a quick text:Thanks for the ticket.
His reply comes a few minutes later. It’s short and to the point. No mention of what we shared during our trip home for Christmas.
I spend the rest of the day with Mom—helping her clean up after breakfast, watching old movies, and pretending it’s just another quiet Sunday. By the time I pack my suitcase and head back to Kolmont, I’m ready.
I text my roommate, Summer, to meet me at the arrivals pickup, and she gives me a ride back to campus.
After a day full of traveling, I collapse onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling. The room feels both familiar and hollow. I plan to shower, change into my pajamas, and bingeSupermarket Sweepuntil it’s time for bed.
I tell myself that keeping busy will help. It’s easier than sitting with my thoughts.
“Why are you acting so…” Summer tilts her head, studying me. “I don’t know. Mopey?”
“What? I’m not acting like anything.” I roll over, hugging my pillow.
“Uh, yes, you are.” She crosses her arms, her messy bun sliding off-center. “Usually, you come back ready to spill every detail about any trip you take. You’re never this quiet, and it’s weirding me out. What’s going on?”
She’s right. I barely said a word the whole drive home. Just thanked her and stared out the window.
“Spill it,” she says, flopping back against her pillows. “Give me something to make my family look normal.”
I hesitate, debating how much to tell her. Then I sigh. “You want excitement? Fine.” I sit up, elbow propped on my pillow. “I ended up sleeping with my ex-boyfriend’s brother.”
Her jaw drops, eyes narrowing as she processes it.
“Yeah, and I gave Santa a blow job,” she deadpans. “Come on, Tess. You’re serious?”
I don’t answer. I just meet her stare, the corner of my mouth twitching.
Her voice jumps an octave. “Wait. You mean the one you mentioned being snowed in with? Evan’s brother? He’s the older and moody one, right?”
I nod, my throat tight.
She’d texted to make sure I made it to the lodge okay. The snowstorm hitting the East Coast was all over the news, and she was worried about me traveling, especially after I told her I’d gotten snowed in with Clay.
I never told her about the kiss three years ago, though. Never admitted how I tried to bury it, pretending it hadn’t meant anything. For a while, I almost believed it myself. Until I saw him again.
“You have to show me a picture,” Summer says, eyes wide. “I can’t process this without visual evidence of the perpetrator.”
I reach for my phone, still shoved in my back pocket. My hands shake a little as I scroll through Facebook. Clay doesn’t post much, but he’s been tagged in a few photos from the gala. I find the one that stopped me cold the first time I saw it, and I hold my phone out toward her.
Her jaw drops again. “You’re kidding me. He looks like he just stepped out ofGQ.Look at those shoulders. And his arms—holyshit.” She presses a hand to her chest and fans herself with the other. “I think I just had an orgasm.”
I snort, lunging across the bed to snatch my phone back. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
For the next twenty minutes, she pushes, prods, and pries until I finally give in and tell her everything. From Clay showing up grumpy, to us bickering in the car all the way back home, to the night we were snowed in at the cabin, to the nights we snuck into each other’s room, and even the quiet moments that started this whole mess three years ago. I don’t hold back.
By the time I’m done, I feel lighter—like someone lifted a weight off my chest I didn’t realize I was carrying.
Summer exhales, eyes wide. “Girl, we need to get you back out there. You know what they say—the best way to get over one man is to get under another.”
