I shake my head, wanting nothing more than to end this conversation. Finishing my tea, I head upstairs without another word. Just before it hits midnight, Cheyenne calls me.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“Hey. Ria texted me,” she says. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply. I should be mad that Ria had told Cheyenne before I could, but I don’t have it in me. I’m lucky, truly, that my sister cares about me so much, even when I’m the biggest pain in the ass.
“Cheyenne, it’s okay, you don’t have to worr-”
“I worry,” she responds, “And Jaslene, I know it’s late there, but I needed to tell you. Don’t let him go. I’ve grown up watching you fall over and over for the wrong boys. Falling for this fantasy version of them in your head, equating them to the fictional boys you love so much. Masterminding these plans so you can getthem to fall in love with you. None of them were real, Jaslene. But Marlon is. I’ve never - you’ve never spoken with so much passion about someone than you have about Marlon.”
Tears stain my pillowcase before I realise I’m even crying.
“I miss you, Cheyenne,” I say. I miss my best friend, and I wish she were here with me now, witnessing the mess firsthand.
“I miss you too. This year will go by soon, okay? Then we’ll be back to our hijinks.”
“You’re missing my birthday,” I whine, but my voice is lighthearted and her words have managed to alleviate some of the weight that’d been riding on my chest for the past couple of weeks.
“Never ever. Expect a belated package from me. I’d never miss it for the world.”
We both chuckle.
I lull myself to sleep with Cheyenne and Ria’s words circulating my mind. I think about what Ria said about our parents’ love story, about how even theirs isn’t perfect.
Nothing will ever make me believe theirs isn’t the greatest romance, but as I reflect on how they’d broken up multiple times, about how they still have petty, silly arguments, and how their meet-cute began with Mum’s dislike for Dad…
Then maybe love isn’t perfect after all. And that’s what makes it worth it.
And now, the only person I’d thought who would never, ever be perfect for me, ended up being the one that feels real.
Thirty Three
The moment I get the text in the middle of class on Tuesday, my intestines practically unravel themselves, and there’s a very real danger in me throwing up.
I show Kiara and Diane the message discreetly under the table, and their reaction is instantly visceral. Diane gasps, garnering the attention of our peers around us. Kiara grabs the phone from me, reading the message over and over.
“She doesn’t seem mad, does she?” I whisper.
“Not really,” Kiara says, running her eyes over the words.
“I don’t trust her,” Diane proclaims, a little too loudly that the tutor has to shush her for a moment.
We continue our conversation once the class is dismissed.
“I say go for it,” Kiara concludes, “There’s nothing to lose. If she’s there to yell at you, let her yell. It’s not like you’ve made a show of pursuing Marlon in the last two weeks.”
She has a point.
“But be careful,” Diane adds, glancing over my shoulder as I draft a reply, “Be cautious around her. We don’t know her intentions.”
“You’re acting like she’s a murderer,” I chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood.
“We’re treating her like one until proven innocent.”
She’s sitting by the window when I arrive.
I almost don’t recognise her. The last time I saw her, she had dark brown hair. She has blonde highlights now.
I order myself an oreo milkshake, hoping that the sweet taste of chocolate will calm my nerves. I sit down beside her once I’ve made my order.
