“About the number seven? Oh God, are you going to watch that movie? Because I can’t sleep here tonight if you’re going to watch that movie. Brayden made me watch it in high school, and I still have nightmares.”
I hold my hands up. “No serial killer movies, I promise. I was just thinking that it’ll be at least seven hours until I can go to sleep.”
Nora looks at me, her eyes growing large behind her red cat-eye glasses. “But it’s after six already. You’re not going to bed until almost two?”
“Yeah, but there’s still a lot to do to get this presentation ready by Friday. Plus, in addition to my internship, I have regular classes. Ugh. Why did I ever think this was a good idea?”
Nora looks at me like she’s asking herself the same question.
“No, forget I said that,” I correct. “I’m just tired. This internship is literally the difference between being courted by a top-tier program or being relegated to a mid-level one. I would never have turned it down, no matter the cost.”
“If you say so,” Nora tells me, not unkindly. “Look, I can’t do anything about the internship or the misogynists who force you to wear outfits that make you look like a flight attendant from the 80s. But I can make you a decent meal. I was thinking chicken stir-fry for dinner. Sound good? It’ll be like you’re eating ramen, just with actual nutrients.”
For a second, I think of Caleb and the way he loves to feed people. God, I miss him. But that’s not fair. I’m not allowed to miss him; not when I’m the one who called it off.
“Thanks, that would be great,” I say, smiling.
“No worries. And I won’t bug you. I’m just going to throw dinner together real quick, and then I’m off to campus for a student senate meeting.”
“I’ll do the dishes,” I promise before turning back to my spreadsheet. It’s boring as hell, but at least the kitchen smells heavenly.
* * *
A few hours later,I’m sitting on my bed looking at the syllabus for one of my courses and highlighting important dates. School officially started two days ago, and I hit the ground running.I look down at my bare toes to see that the polish on my left pinky toe is chipping.
Reminders of Caleb assault my senses wherever I go. There was even a billboard for Whitman Chevrolet on my route to campus this morning. The guy next to me on the bus was playing his tunes a little too loudly. He must’ve been streaming some oldies rock station and they were playing a Def Leppard hour. Because of course they were.
My hand itches to reach for my phone. I’ve checked our text thread a hundred times, but my frantic peeks never yield any results. And they shouldn’t. With the way I left things, Caleb would have to be crazy to text me.
But I still check. Out of sheer boredom, I pad out to the kitchen and make myself a cup of hot cocoa, promising to get back to my syllabi and calendars as soon as I’m finished drinking it. Two cups of hot cocoa later, and I’m curled up on my bed, phone in hand, texting my stepbrother.
Lucy: Do you hate me?
Lucy:Are we still friends?
Lucy:I have no right to say this, but I miss you.
Whit: Are you drunk texting me?
Lucy: I’ve had two cups of hot cocoa in the lasttwenty minutes. Blame it on the sugar high.
Seconds tick by and…no response. It’s a Thursday night. He could be at a party.Or playing Xbox with his boys. Or…
Lucy: Oh my God, are you…busy?
Whit: If you want the truth, I’ve been busy all night. I’ve got a girl on my bed right now.
Lucy:Ok, I deserve that. I suck. I’m sorry. You’ve moved on and that’s great. You should. Forget I texted. Delete this thread.
My cheeks are flaming as I chastise myself. What the hell did I expect? I’d freeze him out, and he’d be a thousand miles away just waiting for my call?
A picture flashes on my screen and I’m afraid to look, but curiosity gets the better of me. And there, on my phone screen, is Caleb Whitman, sprawled out on his bed with his arm around a chubby-cheeked little baby who looks like she’s sucking on a blanket or something. The caption reads:Chilling with Rose while her parents do unspeakable things to each other. Lucky bastards.
Speaking of bastards, he had me believing he was halfway to screwing some random girl!
Lucy:OMG. I hate you.
Whit: Do you?
