From the Jump(38)

“Mac didn’t sleep in your room, either?”

“He did.” She sighs. “But he walked Lara the Birthday Girl to her room first.”

I pause in peeling my naartjie and study her. Like Simone, Phoebe has barely eaten any of her food. There’s something tight about her that makes me nervous. Usually, she seems to flow like water, but today she’s choppy with waves.

“Can I ask you something?” I lift the round citrus fruit in front of my face like a shield.

“Of course.”

Despite her permission, I hesitate before saying, “Are you jealous?”

Her eyebrows lift, but then her head tilts. “I don’t know,” she says, looking perplexed. “Probably a little. I mean, it’s so easy for him. It’s not like he’s looking for a mental connection or anything. He just gets to jump on anyone who gives him the go-ahead. And he’s got this job that pays tons of money and requires absolutely nothing of him. And he gets to live by himself, while I’m stuck living with a roommate who labels their food and accuses me of taking too long in the shower.”

“No—” I try to interrupt, but Phoebe barrels on.

“Like, how does she know, Liv?” Phoebe throws out her hands. “She’s never even home in the mornings, but she acts like she’s got a timer on the showerhead and is counting the chips in her labeled bags. She’s so confident in her accusations.”

She looks at me like she expects an answer, but I shake my head.

“I didn’t mean jealous of Mac,” I say. “I meant jealous of Lara the Birthday Girl.”

“Oh.” Phoebe averts her eyes. “Why would I be jealous of her? She had that terrible giggle. It was like the helium being forced out of a balloon, right? It’s perfectly natural that I wanted to stick a pin in her.”

“Um, Phoebe?” Simone says. “Her laugh was completely normal.”

“Was it?” Phoebe shrugs and takes a sip of her coffee. “I thought she sounded like a cartoon chipmunk. But I guess Mac heard what you heard.”

“He’s been kind of weird on this trip,” Simone says.

“Right?” Phoebe looks around furtively, as if the patio isn’t completely empty aside from us. “He’s been quieter than normal. It’s almost like he’s thinking about something, which is bizarre, because he’s the sweetest guy in the world, but let’s face it—Mac isn’t exactly one for introspection.”

“It’s like he’s been studying you,” I admit reluctantly.

“He has?” Phoebe looks way too intrigued by this nugget of information.

I nod and shove a piece of the naartjie in my mouth. The sweet, tangy flavor explodes against my taste buds. A single raindrop sneaks through the clouds and lands on my arm. Monkeys chatter in the distance.

“And what about the campfire, when he was rambling about best friends?” Simone says. “Awkward.”

“If you think that was awkward,” Phoebe says, “you should’ve been in our tent that night.”

“Did something happen?” It takes effort to ask the question in a neutral tone. I’ll support Phoebe in anything she wants to do—of course I will. But she created the pact for a reason. She was the one who said the two of them getting back together would be a terrible idea. And selfishly, I’ve never felt that more intensely than I do now, after the escape from my dreary life this trip has provided.

I need to know there are more of these adventures to come. I need to believe I haven’t missed all my chances to see the world with the people I love most.

“Not intentionally.” Phoebe grimaces. “I woke up to the stomping of the elephants, and his arms were around me. He must’ve started cuddling me in his sleep, which is innocent enough. But then I got scared, so I scooted closer into him. And his arms tightened around me.” She sighs. “He never even woke up, but it was a reminder I wish I hadn’t gotten.”

“A reminder of what?” Simone asks.

“Of how it felt to be connected to him like that. I’ve never met someone else who’s so completely themselves.” Phoebe looks at me pleadingly like she needs me to understand. “He thinks something, he says it. He wants something, he grabs it. It was like Mac was this other half of me, making everything okay. And now that he’s gone, I don’t know how to enjoy anything the same way.”

“Yes, you do,” I say confidently. “You’ve just forgotten because you’ve been here with him. Remember how you celebrated when you got your first feature piece in the magazine? Mac wasn’t even in the state. He was in New York on a job. And remember the time you spent with that British businessman before he went back home? You certainly seemed to enjoy yourself then. For two weeks, the only texts I received from you consisted entirely of eggplant emojis.”

“Oh.” Phoebe’s eyes drift toward the ceiling. “He was fun.”

“Exactly.” I dig my spoon emphatically into the gelatinous seeds of a halved passion fruit. “This might be my first time traveling, but I’m already realizing it has a way of blurring all the boundaries between people. It’s like it’s too much contact, you know? And you’re in this strange place and you totally forget who you even are in real life. But none of that matters because we have a pact. You care too much about the friendship—with him, and between all of us—to break it. Right?”