Page 84 of Don’t Be A Stranger

I shake my head. “I haven’t made anything worth buying.”

Dae sighs. “That’s not the point, River. Just focus on creating things that make you happy. Put your focus on that sort of inspiration instead of whatever level of success our parents try to shove down our throats.”

My inspiration is currently not talking to me because I told her that’s what I thought would be best. But if people like Bora and Dae—the type of people I’ve believed were the epitome of perfection—have also been belittled and told that they haven’t dreamed big enough, and still went for what they wanted, then maybe I can.

Maybe it’s okay for me to move through life and never have to be extraordinary. I can just exist. I can have things because I want them, not because I have to earn everything. Maybe this version of me can be okay.

I pull out my phone from my back pocket. I don’t let myself think. I just type.

Me: Hey, I know I said we shouldn’t but can we talk?

I wait all of a minute before sending another text.

Me: Summer? Please?

Maybe I’m coming off as desperate, but I feel like if I don’t tell Summer now then I’ll never be able to. I’ll never get the chance. Or I won’t have this confidence ever again. It’ll never feel like the right time to tell Summer I’m in love with her. So, screw it. It’s now or never.

“Hey, guys.” I shove my phone back into my pocket. “I have something important to take care of.”

I turn to Bora and Dae.

“Everything okay?” Bora asks.

“Hopefully soon.” I can’t help but smile. “When are you leaving?” I look at Dae.

“Don’t worry, River. I’m staying for a few weeks.” He smiles softly.

I’m quick to hug both of them, squeezing tight and heading back across the street to my car. The ride to Bethany’s friend’s apartment that she’s staying at feels longer than the usual ten minutes. Granted, I’ve only been there twice. It’s one of those fancier apartment complexes. There are levels to the “richness” in Ellingbrook.

I park and yank my keys out of the ignition, bolting toward the front door. I wave to Peter, the receptionist that I’ve talked to a couple of times, and run toward the elevator. My finger jams the button repeatedly and my legs shake. The beeping irks me and I’m wondering when this elevator got so slow.

When I can no longer take the anxiety coursing through me, I flip the elevator the bird and head toward the stairwell. My sneakers slap against the concrete and the echo of the stairwell makes the racing in my heart pulse through my ears. Louder. Urgent.

I trip over the last few steps and realize I forgot my sunglasses and the bright lights make it hard to see, but I don’t care. I’ll run to Summer with my eyes closed if I have to.

I push through the door, groaning when my shoulder slams into the metal, but I keep moving. My throat burns. Maybe from my breathlessness. Maybe from everything I’ve wanted to say and being this close to laying it all out. Just one long hallway away. I run faster, if possible, and all but slam against the front door, not able to stop my feet fast enough.

I pull back and quickly tap my knuckles against the apartment door, listening for any sort of movement. Bethany answers. Her eyes are red and her hair is tied messily on the top of her head.

This has to have something to do with what Moose said back at Metric’s, right?

“My girl is moving to a whole new country and yours is right in arm’s reach. Take advantage of that.”

Bethany doesn’t give me time to ask if she’s okay or what’s going on between her and Moose. Instead, she offers me a gentle smile that doesn’t seem to match the sadness in her eyes. “She isn’t here.”

“Do you know where she is?” I try to catch my breath. “I know she probably doesn’t want to see me right now, but I really need to talk to her.”

Bethany’s eyes widen at the rate at which I speak. Then her shoulders fall and she takes a step closer. “Summer got a call yesterday. Nick is in the hospital.”

“What happened? Is he okay?” I ask frantically.

My heart is now racing for an entirely different reason.

Why didn’t Summer tell me herself? This isn’t something we’d keep from each other.

Bethany shakes her head. “I don’t know. She asked me not to say anything but…” She lets the rest of that sentence hang in the air.

I take a step back, clutching my phone in my hand. “Thanks, Beth.”