“For you and me. We’ll get a nice place—maybe something with a view downtown.”
“I told you Delaney and I are getting a place together.” We hadn’t talked about it lately, but that’s always been our plan. I hope it hasn’t changed because I’ve been thinking that it might be good for Jared and me when we go to university. This summer he’ll be traveling with his family, and when we start school, we’ll have even less time to hang out. Then I wondered why I wanted less time for him and added it to the pile of things that I didn’t want to think about.
“Yeah, but that was before,” he said. “I thought you’d want to live with me now.”
“We’re only eighteen.”
“So?”
“Don’t you want to live with your friends?”
“They’re slobs. I want to live with you.”
“Why? Because you think I’ll clean up after you? Can you even cook? Or do you want me to do all the cleaning and cooking and shopping?”
“Whoa. Where is that coming from? I can learn to do all that stuff.” Of course. He had to learn to do something that I’d been doing for years. He’d had everything easy.
“I’m not ready to think about next year. I just want to get through graduation.”
“We can talk about it again in the summer. I’ll put a deposit on something.” He looked unruffled, like he was so sure I’d come around to his way of thinking.
I sat up, crossed my legs, and faced him. “I don’t know if I want to live with you ever. My mom got with my dad when she was only nineteen and she missed out on all kinds of stuff.”
“I’m not like your dad.” Now he was starting to look annoyed, but it didn’t make me want to back away, it made me want to dig a little deeper.
“You’re kind of acting like him.”
“That’s a shitty thing to say.” His face was flushed.
“Every time I want to stay home, you act like you are all bummed out, then I feel bad.”
“You kidding me? You’re always depressed, so I’ve been trying to keep you busy.”
Everything was lurching and scrambling inside me and I just wanted to get up and go home and hide in my bedroom with my earbuds and loud music. I’d stay in there for days. Maybe weeks. I’d never come out again. “Sometimes I want to be alone. I need space.”
We stared at each other. I could feel the truth crumbling inside me, the horrible aching yearning to be on my own, to not have to discuss my feelings or wonder what he was thinking, or try to make him happy, or be Jared and Sophie. I just wanted to be Sophie again.
He sat up. “You need space?” His face was pale, his eyebrows a dark slash. His lips even seemed pale, as though I’d stabbed him and all the color had bled out.
“Not forever, just a small break.” I couldn’t believe I’d said it, but now the words were out and I watched them fall like bombs onto his face. His eyes widened, then his mouth drooped.
“Seriously?” He sounded winded.
“I’ve been thinking lately that maybe I haven’t really dealt with my dad dying. Maybe I just dove into everything with you because I was avoiding it.”
“I tried to get you to talk about it.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to work it out in my own head. I was thinking that maybe we shouldn’t see each other over spring break.”
“I don’t get it. Yesterday you were telling me how much fun we’re going to have.”
“I just want one week alone. Why is that such a problem?”
“You’re making it a problem.”
I got off the bed and grabbed my backpack and coat. “I’m going home.”
He grabbed my arm. “Stop it,” he said. “We need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I already told you I wanted a break, but now I think we should make that permanent.” I’m a runaway train, smashing through mountains.
He was gripping my arm hard and he looked desperate. “I won’t let you do this.”
“You won’t let me?” I pulled free, his fingertips digging into my skin.
“Just don’t decide right now.” His voice was hoarse and his eyes black and shiny like pools of ink. I could dip my pen in and draw his heart breaking all over a page in my sketchbook, then I could tear it out, or put it back together again.
“Please?” he said. “I’ll give you space—just don’t end everything.”
I hesitated. Was this really happening? Were we really breaking up? “I don’t know. I have to go.” I moved through the house, frantic to get outside, to breathe the fresh air.
He followed me out to the front steps, still in his socks even though it was pouring rain. “Wait. I’ll drive you home. Don’t be stupid. You’ll get soaked.”
I looked at him standing there in his T-shirt, his shoulders up near his ears, and the rain falling down around us. I remembered my father pulling up beside me in his truck. Get in.
“I’ll call Delaney,” I shouted through the torrent. Then I was running. My feet plunged through cold puddles that splashed water up my calves. Running, running, running.