The Romantics(59)

“Just don’t ruin a good thing with Mason on account of me,” Gael said finally. “Life’s too short not to be with the person you want to be with.”

The warning bell rang, and Gael walked away without another word, feeling strangely, insanely good.





let’s not even pretend to work on the chem lab, shall we?


Gael found that he was nervous as he approached chem after lunch that afternoon. He hadn’t spotted Mason or Anika at lunch, and he worried that, despite his motivational speech, Anika still hadn’t been able to forgive Mason—or, more accurately, forgive herself.

But when Mason walked in, his fears were instantly dispelled. There was a conspicuous smudge of lip gloss on the bottom of Mason’s mouth.

Gael rolled his eyes. They hadn’t been arguing at lunch. They’d been making out. Typical Mason. And Anika, for that matter.

Mason sat down, beaming.

“Dude,” Gael said. “I realize you’ve been known to wear makeup on occasion, but there’s really no need now. I’m no longer being tortured by *s in middle school.”

“Huh?” Mason asked.

Gael pointed at the bottom of Mason’s lip.

“Ohhhhh,” he said. He laughed. “You caught me. Is that weird?”

Gael nodded. “Yeah, but it’s okay.”

They both laughed.

It was lab day in chem, and Gael and Mason spent the whole of the period doing just about nothing with their microscope.

Instead, they talked about Gael’s mom—Mason urged him to listen to whatever she had to say, but Gael didn’t want to. He already knew enough.

And the reservations Mason had made for dinner with Anika that night were at 411 West, the pinnacle of the Chapel Hill dating scene. Gael chuckled to himself imagining gangly Mason sitting in front of a white tablecloth and trying to choose the right fork.

And finally, they talked about Cara.

“So you’re supposed to see her this afternoon?” Mason asked. “And it’s like, the afternoon?”

Mrs. Ellison walked past them, and for a second, Gael pretended to adjust his microscope.

“Yeah,” he said. “I didn’t know how to cancel. And I don’t know if I should.”

Mason raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure Sammy doesn’t like you?” he asked.

Was he? Gael wondered.

(And it made me so sad because I knew deep down that he shouldn’t be sure, that he still had a shot, but I also know that while Romantics fall hard, they take rejection even harder, especially at the beginning.)

Gael was sure of one thing—that Sammy had been right. Timing was everything. Maybe if things had happened sooner. Maybe if he hadn’t been distracted by Cara. But how was he supposed to compete with her high school sweetheart? Sammy loved John. That was so clear from all the times she’d talked about him before he’d broken up with her. How could Gael ever compete with that?

(Romantics love deeply—beautifully—but their fatal flaw is doubting deep down whether anyone can truly feel as strongly about them.)

“I don’t think it’s going to happen with Sammy,” Gael said finally.

Mason scrawled gibberish on their worksheet, pretending to do something as Mrs. Ellison looked over. After a minute, he shrugged.

“Cara’s cool. You do like her. So what if she’s not the one? Maybe she’s the one for right now?”





the pros and cons of dating gael, according to sammy’s scratched-out list





the kiss: part one


The afternoon rolled around, and no matter how nervous Gael was about it, it was time to see Cara. Her self-imposed month of singlehood was officially over, and he’d decided to take Mason’s advice. Why not? Cara made him happy, for the most part. Could you really ask for more than that?

It was an unseasonably warm day for November, and Cara had suggested a picnic on the lower quad.

As he walked across campus, students were tossing Frisbees and drinking out of cups that probably held way more than coffee, taking advantage of one of the last pleasant days of fall.

(Fun fact: No fewer than five future couples would meet on the quad that Friday. There was something about impending winter that made people pair off like their lives depended on it.)

Gael spotted Cara spread out in front of Wilson Library. She was sitting on a red blanket and was even wearing a polka-dot dress.

“Wow,” he said, as he walked up and sat down next to her. “You look great.”

“Don’t act so surprised,” she laughed.

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

She produced a pair of bagel sandwiches and pushed a warm paper cup into his hand. “I got us lattes from the Daily Grind,” she said cheerfully. “It’s not as good as Starbucks, if you ask me, but I remember you saying it was your favorite.”

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he said.

“It wasn’t trouble at all,” she said. “Here, have a sandwich.”

Gael took his gratefully and ate, eager for something to do. They chatted a bit, about the weather, about the coffee, about how the kids next to them were so bad at throwing Frisbees.

Eventually, the sandwiches were gone, and the lattes were finished, and there was nothing left to distract them anymore.