“You’re not trying to hear anything. That’s the problem.” He leaned against the wall. “Outside of making dumbass comments all night, what do you plan on doing to get her to listen to you?”
“I’m not sure anymore.”
“Bullshit.”
“No, I’m honestly not sure. She really has deluded herself into thinking that I only used her for sex last summer, that I didn’t love her at all.”
“You told her ‘not in that way’…That’s actually the worst thing you could’ve ever said. What was she supposed to think?”
“That I was doing what was best for her. She’s put her dreams on hold for a guy before…I didn’t want that.”
“You honestly think she would have stayed home from France if you’d told her the truth? Changed her entire future just for you?”
“Yes.” I looked up at him, daring him to question is further. “I’m pretty sure I know her ten times better than you do.”
He held up his hands in a slight surrender. “Well, if that’s the case, what are you going to do now?”
“Try as many times as necessary to make her listen to me…” I stood up. “Let’s go.”
Several months ago…
Before Ari left for France, I’d found her journal in her room. And by “found” I meant she left it open on her desk, underneath her passport and plane tickets.
I wasn’t going to read it; I hadn’t read it since sixth grade when I teased her about having a crush on the guy she wanted to kiss “so badly that [I] want to see the stars when his lips touch mine.” But I saw my name with hearts around it (More than once), so I shut her door while she was downstairs cooking and read:
Dear Janet,
Is it weird that I call you that instead of “journal”? Actually, it’s probably weird that I’m twenty three years old and keeping a damn journal to begin with…)
Anyway, I never thought it would happen to me, but I’m in love.
Hopelessly, foolishly, and deeply in love with the last person you’d expect: Carter.
And now I’m not sure what I want anymore…It’s true that love puts things in perspective. Before when we weren’t having sex, (Yes…we had sex and it was amazing…IN-FUCKING-CREDIBLE actually.) I was hesitant about going away, but now?
Honestly, if he asked me to stay, I would stay. I got into two other culinary programs that are only a few hours away and I can still confirm if need be…I just…My heart has never felt like this before and I don’t know what I should do....
Talk to you later,
Ari.
PS—Since I started having Carter over all the time for...you know…My room is fucking spotless. You should SEE it! LOL
Knowing Ari like the back of my hand, I knew right then and there that if she did ever tell me that she loved me, it would probably be at the airport right before takeoff. (She was dramatic like that.) That she would probably expect me to say it back, and then she would cry and say that she could learn how to be a better chef in America, that she didn’t need to go overseas.
She would stay.
Because she’d done that before for another guy she liked: She went to the University of Pittsburgh—knowing that she didn’t really want to go, but she thought she was in love so she followed her heart instead of her dreams.
I loved her enough to want what was best, and I didn’t want her to do that again…So, I vowed to be as stoic as possible on the day she left—kissing her one last time definitely, but if she told me she was in love with me before takeoff, I wouldn’t let myself say it back.
Track 31. You’re Not Sorry (3:22)
I stood in the kitchen with my mother, marinating chicken in barbeque sauce while she tossed a salad.
“I like Sean,” she said, smiling at me.
“I do, too.” I looked outside the window where he was helping Nicole set up seats in the backyard. “He’s perfect, honestly.”
“How so?”
I thought about pulling out my spreadsheet and showing her how he was a perfect ten in the “intensity of the kisses” and “genuine conversations” categories, but I’d held back.
“He does the sweetest things for me in France—calls me to wake me up every morning, runs with me on the weekends, listens to me whenever I want to talk…He’s also an amazing kisser.”
She laughed. “An amazing kisser?”
“The best guy I’ve ever kissed.” Except Carter…
An image of Carter kissing me at the EPIC party—controlling my lips with his, suddenly ran across my mind and I forced myself to brush it away.
“He said he wants to ask me something over dinner tonight when everyone is here,” I said. “You think he’s going to propose?”
“This early?” Her eyes widened. “I would hope not.”
“He’s not.” I said, laughing. “I like him a lot, though…You think you could see us together long term?”
“Not sure; although I‘ve always thought you would end up with Carter.” She smiled, setting down the salad.
“What? When did you think that?”
“I’ve always thought that. I still do.”