Begin Again(80)

“And I . . . I don’t even know what I’m doing next year,” he mutters.

There it is. The truth that I wasn’t ignoring, but in the heat of the moment, I forgot. It isn’t one I can resent him for in the slightest—the truth is, I’m proud of him. Proud that he put himself out there. That he might take a chance across the country. And more important, that he’s working to resolve everything with Harley first.

So this tumult of emotion I’m feeling. This pull, this burn—it’s reactionary. My life has just spiraled out of control, and now I’m spiraling even more. Spiraling straight into Milo, who is too important to drag down with me.

“And I guess—well,” I say, my voice flimsy even in my own ears. “I’d say I just broke up with Connor, but we didn’t even get to that part.”

It’s weird to think he might still be here somewhere. That this world we built together could just implode and we could be closer to each other than we’ve ever been. I feel this wave of nausea and dread, the reality of it sinking back under my skin.

Milo looks uncertain about what to say next, so instead I try to lighten the mood, teasing him. “And you don’t believe in love anymore anyway,” I say lightly. “What is it you said at the beginning of the semester? ‘Love is a scam’?”

I’m expecting him to laugh, but Milo’s eyes darken, sweeping to the floor. “Well. I think . . .” He swallows hard. “You’re right. This is just—it’s been a weird day.”

I’m not sure whether to press the point. Of all the day’s surprises, this might be the strangest of all—the way my heart isn’t just slamming in my chest, but seizing, pieces of Milo suddenly so woven into it that it must have changed its shape.

As I’m trying to decide, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, unsurprised to see Connor’s name lighting up the screen.

Before I answer, I feel the weight of Milo’s eyes on mine. It’s not a look that says, Are you going to answer? Or What are you going to do? It’s a clear Do you need me? And it lands somewhere soft.

“Thank you for . . . for everything,” I tell him. Then I nod, more to myself than to him. “I’m gonna finish this.”

Milo nods back, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder one last time. “You got this, new kid.”

The warmth of it lingers long after Milo is gone.





Chapter Twenty-Six


But I don’t finish it. I open my phone to find Connor has texted me a stream of apologies, pleas to hear him out. Then a direct: Please don’t say you’re breaking up with me. I text back a short I need you to leave me alone right now. Then I pocket my phone. I walk to the arboretum and sit on my favorite bench and wait—wait for enough time to pass that the sun has gone, and Connor will have to have gone home with it.

I know what I have to do, but it’s too much, too soon to let it all go. How do you quit an entire person? How do you give up on someone who has defined almost every version of love you know?

It seems doubly unfair that I have to be the one who does the hardest thing here by ending it. The same way I’ve been upset with my dad for leaving me to decide whether he gets to be part of my life, I’m at another impasse where a choice has been forced on me. One I can’t will away. One I can only put off until I’m ready to deal with it. And with the shock of this still so fresh, I know I can’t.

When I finally get up from my perch, my plan is to dive face-first into my pillow and sleep until Shay’s alarm wakes us both up for the Monday broadcast. What happens instead is I turn the doorknob to my room, and find Valeria and Shay sitting on Shay’s bed and Milo sitting on my desk chair, the little collapsible table Shay sometimes uses for bookstagramming overloaded with a half-empty bottle of room-temperature rosé, Tastykakes, and Goldfish.

The sight of Milo splits something in me, opens me up to a feeling I know too well because I’ve felt it before. That afternoon we fell into each other at the snowball fight. The first time I saw him slip into his Knight persona in the studio. The rub of his shoulder on mine in that shed in the woods. Earlier today, with his springtime eyes and the warmth of his forehead on mine.

So many countless moments I’ve bulldozed past and dismissed. Moments I press back down so fast that they pinch in my chest, sharp and painful, too much to be contained.

“You’re here,” Valeria exclaims.

Luckily, the room full of complete and utter lightweights doesn’t notice my momentary pause; despite only being half a glass deep each, Shay is positively glowing, Valeria appears to be missing both a sock and one of her dangly earrings, and Milo is—

Well. Milo is Milo. Clear-eyed and staring at me with a wry expression the same as he always does, that somehow makes me weak in the knees in a way I’ve never let it before.

“I was never here,” he says, raising his hands up. “Legally, I was in my room the entire time, unaware of underage drinking taking place on my floor.”

“You’re underage, you dope,” says Shay, kicking her foot in the air for emphasis.

Valeria has already leapt off the bed, enveloping me in a hug so tight and so effusive that bones in my back crack during the impact of it. I squeeze her right back. Only then do I understand that I wasn’t waiting for closure with Connor. What I needed was this. My friends, all here and waiting for me with my favorite snacks and their unwavering love and, judging by the unmistakable sound of Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone” blasting from Shay’s laptop, a breakup playlist that is already in full swing.