They Wish They Were Us(18)

I met Adam outside on the quad so he could show me, as he put it, “all the fun stuff they leave off the tour.”

“Hey, Newman,” he said as he appeared and wrapped me in one of his amazing bear hugs. “Let’s go.” Adam grabbed my hand and we started walking. I tried to stay in the moment with him; I’d wanted to be alone with him here for so long, but my brain was still spinning with diagrams and theories and constellations.

“Ta-da,” he said, after a short walk through campus. We stood in front of a dilapidated townhouse. Shingles were falling off the side and the front porch looked like it was about to cave in. “College life.”

“It’s perfect,” I said. And it was. It was exactly the kind of place that I pictured for Adam. We spent the rest of the evening playing beer pong with his roommates—three other guys in the English department who took turns ripping hits from a two-foot bong. It was so much like everything back in Gold Coast. So . . . normal.

My head started to spin and when I looked at my phone, I saw a text from Mom. It’s about that time . . . she wrote.

“Shit,” I said. “I think I have to go back to the hotel.”

Adam nodded and set the bong back down on the cracked coffee table. “I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to,” I said, embarrassed.

He laughed. “Come on.”

We walked together in silence until we reached the sleepy bed and breakfast Cindy Miller had recommended. This time, I was totally aware of every centimeter between us. I wished this were our default. That this was my life, permanently.

Adam stopped and turned to me. “So,” he started, his clear glasses slightly askew, making his blue eyes shine brighter than I ever remembered. “What do you think?”

“I love it,” I said.

“I knew you would.”

I braced myself for something magical. For a cosmic moment that would ripple through my veins. For our mouths to find one another. For everything to collide and make total sense. I closed my eyes and waited. But nothing happened. Instead, Adam hugged me with such a gentle grace I wanted to cry. He rested his head on top of mine and breathed in deeply. “See you soon, kid.” Then he was gone.

That night I resolved not to be the girl who followed a boy to college. This wasn’t about him, I told myself. Brown was the best. It was the right fit. Everyone said so.

It had the program of my dreams but it was also the perfect place to burst the Gold Coast bubble, to challenge everything I thought I knew, to meet people who grew up in areas that were diverse and interesting and not painted with the same brush. Where people acknowledged how insane it is to have multiple houses and cars, where the administration actually wanted students to have an array of perspectives and backgrounds, didn’t just pretend to.

So I put everything I had into that application. I spoke to Mallika and a handful of professors in the astrophysics department, gathering as much information as I could for my essay. I tried my best to explain why studying space was the only thing I could picture myself doing, and why I would be a worthy investment. I could have combed through the Files, looking for Brown contacts or help from the uber-exclusive college counselor who saw Players for free (his daughter was one five years ago). But I didn’t. Every time I went to open the app, something stopped me. I wanted to do this on my own. I wanted to see if I could. So instead, I submitted my application and prayed.

At Dr. Boardman’s insistence, I also sent in an app to State’s honors program, which, if accepted, would guarantee me free tuition.

“Plus, doesn’t their physics department have an exchange program at that observatory you love in Hawaii?” Mom asked when I told her.

They did, I admitted begrudgingly.

“Well, okay then.”

Now at Diane’s, Adam stretches his arms behind him and leans back against the booth. I feel a pang of disappointment as he pivots the conversation away from college and to the Players. “So, when are you picking newbs?” he asks.

“In a few weeks, I think.”

“Our bros gonna do it?”

I fight the urge to chew on my fingernail. I don’t want to have to explain to him why I don’t want Jared to be involved. Even with ensured grades, the entry into another world, the deafening fun, I don’t want him to go through it, to jump through a bunch of stupid hoops just to prove he can.

Part of me, though, knows the real reason why I don’t want him to be a Player. I don’t want him to know what we’ve done.

“Maybe,” I say. “We’ll see.” Diane plunks our plates down in front of us and my stomach growls at the beige mountain. Pancakes flop on top of hash browns and eggs. Sticky logs of browned meat poke out from beneath the pile.

“Your highness,” Adam says, folding his hands in a prayer formation. “I’m not worthy.”

“Oh, shut it,” Diane says, swatting his palms down. “I’m impervious to that Millah charm.”

When she walks away, I know it’s time. “I have to tell you something.”

Adam takes a bite and swallows. His lips are shiny with grease and I want to lick them clean. He cocks his head to one side, permission to continue.

“I got a bunch of weird texts,” I say. My heart beats at a threatening pace. “From Rachel.”

Adam drops his fork. “What?” He swallows. “Show me.”