Hello, Goodbye, and Everything in Between

“Aidan—”

“So this thing between us? It’s way too important to let it just fall apart. I don’t want to break up in a few days or weeks or months for some really dumb reason. We’re not that couple. If we’re gonna break up, it can’t be because of the guy always hanging around your dorm room or because I’m sitting by my phone and you’re never calling, or because I’m too busy with lacrosse to text you back, and it starts driving you nuts. If we’re gonna break up, it has to be for a good reason.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t think of a single good reason to break up with you right now.”

“That’s because you’re not thinking big enough,” he says. “It’s gotta be something huge, something grand.”

“Like world peace?”

“If world peace were a possible side effect of you breaking up with me, then yes, sure, that would definitely count as a noble reason.”

“Maybe,” she says after a moment, “it’s just that we love each other too much.”

He looks at her thoughtfully. “I like that.”

“But it’s still a bullshit reason.”

“It’s actually the opposite of bullshit. We love each other too much to get dragged down by any bullshit. We’re above bullshit. What’s the scientific term for that? Not sub, but…”

“Super,” she says. “It’s super bullshit.”

He laughs. “Super Bullshit: worst superhero ever,” he says, but Clare only stares at the patch on her knee with a sinking heart.

“So that’s it then?” she asks, and he nods.

“That’s our reason: We dove each other way too much.”

She rolls her eyes. “That was only cute once.”

He grins. “So was the whole I dove you thing in the first place.”

“Fair enough,” she says. “But I do.”

“Dove me?”

“Love you,” she says, waiting for him to smile again. But he doesn’t. Instead, he looks at her for a long time, his eyes taking her in as if trying to memorize her. Then, finally, he nods.

“Seems like a worthy reason to me.”





The End


6:24 AM


Aidan is still sitting exactly where Clare left him: in one of the huge wooden rocking chairs on the front porch. When she steps outside, Bingo shoves past her through the open door, charging over to greet him with a dramatic display of wiggling and whining before launching himself up into his lap.

Aidan wrestles the dog into a hug, then glances up at Clare.

“Were they mad?” he asks, looking a little worried. He’s grown accustomed to disappointing his own father, but Clare’s parents hold him in such high esteem that he’s made it his mission to prove that they’re right about him.

“About what?” she asks, sitting down in the other chair. From inside the house, she can still hear the muffled voices of her parents calling back and forth to each other as they make last-minute preparations for the drive, gathering snacks and road maps and water bottles. The trip will take four days: two heading east with all three of them, and then another two returning west after having dropped her off in New Hampshire.

“Well,” Aidan says, scratching Bingo behind the ears, “the black eye, for one.”

Clare shrugs. “I told them I joined a fight club.”

“Seriously.”

“Seriously? I just told them the truth.”

He shakes his head. “I always forget that’s an option.”

“They weren’t thrilled, obviously, but there’s not much to do about it now. My mom’s running around trying to find some makeup to pack, so I don’t look quite so intimidating when I show up to meet Beatrice St. James.”

“And they didn’t care that you were out all night?”