“Yeah. Later.” She waited a beat before checking behind her again. The lights in the hallway seemed to flicker.
Gabe and Jonah were gone.
“Beyoncé sing-along!” Clara cranked up the volume on her phone.
“Oh my God!” Rae was standing inside the closet. “How is this closet the size of my house? Is it like one of those Harry Potter Quidditch tents?”
Clara jumped on the bed, belting along with the lyrics, while Aubrey put her bag on the luggage rack and unzipped it. She was thinking about how, for one moment, Gabe had acted like everything between them was normal again. Which meant he might act like that tonight. Which meant he might act like that tomorrow. Which hopefully meant they could undo that stupid kiss from three weeks ago—they could forget it had ever happened.
Her outfit for the evening was folded on top of everything else: a floaty skirt, a red tank top, and a pair of black sandals. She tugged her dark hair from her ponytail holder and let it fall around her shoulders.
Rae emerged from the closet, still wearing the robe and now a pair of slippers. “This album is so freshman year. Remember when Erin Maguire sang ‘Drunk in Love’ in the middle of our Bio exam and didn’t even realize it?”
“Was that when you had a crush on her?” Clara asked.
“What? No. I never had a crush on her.”
Clara stopped jumping and pushed her staticky hair away from her face. “Aubrey! Verify. Did Rae have a crush on Erin Maguire or not?”
Aubrey pulled the tank top over her head, mentally riffling through her list of Rae’s old crushes. “Can’t remember.”
“That means I didn’t!” Rae climbed onto the other bed, pumping both fists in the air. “Because! Aubrey! Remembers! Everything!”
Aubrey’s phone beeped, and she assumed it was her parents, asking if she’d checked into the hotel. But it was Jonah: Aubrey Bryce, this room is NOT SMALL. also, I think I saw a bar downstairs. should we go drink in it??
“Jonah wants to look around some more.” She grabbed one of the keys. “You guys want to come?”
“Aubrey,” Rae said, “you know I love you and that I would probably murder—or at the very least, attempt murder—for you. But there’s no way in hell I’m spending alone time with you and Jonah right now.”
“Ditto,” Clara said. “Enjoy sucking face, though.”
Aubrey flipped them off, and she could hear them cackling as she walked into the hallway, the music fading as she made her way to the elevator.
The bar, just off the lobby, was a sprawling, red-carpeted room full of couples sitting at tables decorated with votive candles. Different scenes from old black-and-white movies were projected silently onto the walls, sending shifting beams of light and shadow over everything. Aubrey chose a booth at the back and ran her hands over the plum fabric of the seat while watching Charlie Chaplin give a flower to a girl in a wide-brimmed hat. She’d never been somewhere like this on her own before, and it made her feel kind of strange—like she was a little kid playing dress-up.
Jonah slid into the booth beside her. “Are these free?” he asked, pointing to the bowl of crackers on the table.
“I would assume so,” Aubrey said.
“I love this place.” He popped a few crackers in his mouth. “Do you think we’ll get those tiny pillow mints, too?”
Aubrey stopped watching the screen, but the images stayed behind her eyelids for a few more seconds, a hazy afterglow. Jonah had changed into the blue button-up Aubrey had bought him for Hanukkah last year, and he smelled like the bright, lemony laundry detergent she always associated with walking into his house. Even though they’d been dating since sophomore year, Aubrey sometimes found it hard to believe that he was her boyfriend. Her serious boyfriend, as her mom often put it. The first time he’d asked her out, she’d honestly thought it might have been a joke. When it happened, she’d been standing next to Rae, who’d had to say, Yeah, she’ll go out with you, while Aubrey’s brain tried to make sense of what was going on. She’d always liked Jonah, but she’d never considered the possibility of like-liking him. And it had definitely never occurred to her that he might like-like her. Aubrey thought of herself as the kind of girl guys flirted with so she would let them copy her homework. She wore T-shirts with nerdy literary slogans on them, and she frowned at kids who talked over the teacher during class, and she’d always enjoyed the comfort of practical shoes.
Jonah, on the other hand, was moody and artistic and seriously cute. The first time Lucy had seen a picture of him, she’d told Rae and Aubrey that he looked like Ethan Hawke in Reality Bites. (When they IMDb-ed it later, it turned out she was right.)
On that first date, a Saturday, a January ice storm hit. Aubrey met Jonah at the Natural History Museum, and they spent the afternoon weaving through crowds of moms and crying toddlers to gaze at bleached dinosaur skeletons and life-size whale models suspended from the ceiling. In the early evening, he walked her to the bus stop, taking her arm to guide her around icy patches on the sidewalk and waiting with her for the bus to arrive. They were still talking when its headlights flashed down the street and swept toward them. And as the bus slushed through a puddle of snow and stopped, Jonah leaned over and kissed Aubrey. His mouth was cool and wintry; the tips of his fingers touched the tips of hers.
“We should order something.” Jonah crunched another cracker, pulling Aubrey back into the moment. “How do you say my good sir, give us the cheapest wine you’ve got?”
Aubrey turned toward him. “Doesn’t this make you think about New York?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Trust me. Living in New York won’t be anything like this.”
“Not the hotel,” she said. “I meant this. Being by ourselves. Getting to decide what we do at any given moment—well, except for when we have to go to class.”
“I’ll take you to see my old apartment,” he said. “My parents are renting it out now, but the doorman still remembers me. He even lets me go up to the roof sometimes.”
“You have to come to the Columbia library,” she said. “My mom and I went on this tour of it when we were visiting last summer. Even standing in the entrance made me feel more intelligent.”
“I think I’ve been there. But when you come downtown, we can go to all the weird little theaters they have there. We’ll see a new show every week.”
“And we’ll go to the Statue of Liberty. And get a couple of those Statue of Liberty hats.”
“Aubrey. No.”
“Okay. But we can at least get matching ‘I Heart NY’ ponchos, right?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he took her hand under the table. “No tourist garbage,” he said.
“But I’m a tourist!”
“No, you’re not. You’re going to live there for the next four years.”
“Maybe even longer than that,” she said and instantly felt shy about it. They’d never talked about it explicitly, but it did make sense that they’d stay in New York after they graduated. Jonah was studying drama at NYU, so it seemed logical that he’d go on auditions in the city. And Aubrey could apply to do her English lit master’s at Columbia—she’d already researched how to get into the program.
Just like that, it glowed to life in her mind, this future they would have together: Aubrey taking the subway from Columbia to NYU to see him in the evenings; the two of them walking across the Brooklyn Bridge on chilly autumn nights and going out for soup dumplings in Chinatown; Aubrey having a key to Jonah’s dorm.
Jonah’s phone buzzed on the table, and Leah’s name popped up, the screen turning bright and garish. Jonah let go of Aubrey’s hand to check the message, and Aubrey felt the little bubble she’d created around them burst.
“She’s asking what kind of drinks she should buy,” Jonah said. “For when we’re at her place Monday night.”
“Cool!” Aubrey tried to sound enthusiastic as she poked a few crackers around the bowl. Leah was Jonah’s friend from the London American School, but she’d g
raduated a year earlier, and now she was at NYU, doing the exact same drama program Jonah was going to start. Aubrey didn’t exactly dislike Leah, but she did resent the fact that when Leah was around, the focus of everything seemed to shift to her. And, of course, Leah was interning at a theater in Amsterdam that summer, which meant they would have to see her in a few days. Which was annoying.
Jonah was still texting, the black-and-white images from the silent movie gliding over him, forming triangles of light against his skin. Aubrey wished she could reach over and pull him back to her. She wished they could go back to talking about New York—the New York that belonged to the two of them, the New York where they were the only people who existed. She blurted out, “You can’t be New York.”
“Huh?” He looked up from his phone.
“The conversation we were having earlier,” she said. She could feel her face getting flushed. “About which city we would be. You can’t be New York, because it puts us on uneven footing when we move there, and that isn’t fair.”
“Okay.” Jonah looked baffled, but he reached over to touch her cheek. “So we’re both New York.” Aubrey felt the bubble growing around them again, blocking out Leah and the rest of the world. The images from the movie grazed Jonah’s lips; they got caught in his eyelashes. And Aubrey tipped her head toward his. She let her eyes drift shut.
4
Rae
Friday, July 1
PARIS
This,” Clara said, “is exactly how I imagined tonight would be.”
Rae walked between Clara and Gabe down a wide Parisian avenue. Clara was wearing a short silver dress she’d sewn herself with a vintage black fascinator clipped into her hair. The warm night crackled with energy. Clara was so close to her it made Rae feel feverish. She tried to distract herself by snapping pictures of all the things they passed: yellow lights in windows, opulent buildings, cafés with bright-red awnings. Everything vivid and dramatic. Everything like a living work of art.
Rae jogged a few steps in front of them and held up her camera. “Look over here!”
Clara stuck out her tongue as Gabe mussed up her hair, making her screech and duck just as Rae snapped the picture. The two of them a whir of motion against the elegant city.
“Nice,” Rae said.
“Very funny.” Clara patted down her hair while Gabe stuck his hands into his pockets and whistled.
Since they’d stopped, Aubrey and Jonah had gotten even farther ahead, walking with their arms around each other’s waists.
“Typical,” Clara said, gesturing at their friends. “Abandoning us already.”
“Probably because we’re so immature.” Gabe skipped ahead and kicked a stone down the sidewalk. If Rae hadn’t known about what had happened between him and Aubrey, she might have thought he was being his normal jokey self. But she could hear an edge of hurt in his voice. She contemplated taking a picture of him. Something artsy and in profile.
A boy hiding his thoughts.
A boy pretending nothing has changed.
Humidity from the day lingered in the night air. She noticed couples smoking cigarettes on their apartment balconies, a girl fastening her helmet before climbing onto her motorbike, and groups clinking wineglasses together at café tables.
Clara linked one arm with Rae and the other with Gabe. “If either of you had a girlfriend right now, you’d ignore everyone else, too, and only pay attention to her.”
“Doubt it,” Rae said. I would, she thought, if you were my girlfriend.
“I don’t need an excuse,” Gabe said. “I could ignore you right now.”
Clara sighed and shoved his arm. Gabe and Clara were constantly teasing each other, but Rae knew there was nothing more to it. Clara had told her a dozen times that she thought of Gabe and Jonah more like brothers. In fact, she’d never dated any of the guys who went to their school. She said LAS boys were full of drama. But she had hooked up with a couple of guys from different London schools, and she’d even had a long-distance boyfriend in California for a few months during freshman year.
Rae reminded herself of all that. It made her wish—for the hundredth, maybe thousandth time—that if she had to fall for a friend, it hadn’t been one who seemed one hundred percent straight.
“Well, I think they’re lucky,” Clara said. The curve of her elbow tightened around Rae’s. “Going to college must be a lot less terrifying if you go with someone you love.”
“Sure,” Gabe said. “But technically they’re not going together. They’re going to different schools that happen to be in the same city.”
“Ha,” Rae snorted. “You sound just like Aubrey.”
“Really?” Gabe asked.
“Yeah.” Rae flicked her camera off and then on again. She probably shouldn’t have said that. It was probably a major Best Friend Violation to talk about Aubrey with Gabe. She was about to change the subject when she realized that they had almost caught up with Aubrey and Jonah, who were waiting for them outside a restaurant on the street corner.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Aubrey announced when they stopped in front of her, “welcome to your first official night of freedom.”
A waiter led them to an outdoor table covered by a white tablecloth with leather-bound menus at every place setting. In the center, a candle sat inside a globe, its flame muted by frosted glass. The waiter pulled out their chairs for them, which made Rae feel super awkward. She half slid, half tripped into hers. “Thanks—garçon,” she said. Gabe smirked at her, and she kicked him under the table.
“Okay.” Aubrey unfolded her napkin. “I know this place seems expensive.”
“That’s because it is.” Jonah gawked at his open menu.
“But we don’t have to worry,” Aubrey said. “Rae and I looked up this place weeks ago. We already figured out what we should do.”
“Yes!” Rae said. “I totally remember that!”
Gabe folded his hands on the table. “Do you now?” he asked. She kicked him again.
“We can order one bottle of wine,” Aubrey said, “and a main course each, but we’ll choose from the ones that are less than twenty euros. That way, we’ll have enough left to share a couple of desserts.” She took out her phone to show them the budget she’d drawn up.
“Great plan.” Clara flipped her curtain of dyed-red hair over her shoulder and waved down the waiter. The silver on her dress shimmered like water, and Rae felt helpless. And seriously ridiculous, like there were actual hearts in her eyes or something. Like she might as well get a T-shirt printed with Ask me about my soul-absorbing crush on Clara!
The waiter came back, and Clara said something to him in rapid, convincing French.
Rae picked up her fork and banged it against the side of her water glass. She tried to ignore how perfect Clara looked this evening—the way her hair had turned an even deeper shade of red, how the candle illuminated a small half-moon scar at the corner of her eyebrow. “All right,” she said. “This is our first night, so I think we should set down a few ground rules. I’ll start. Rule number one: No one currently seated at this table is allowed to discuss theater or musicals of any kind. This definitely includes Singin’ in the Rain.”
“That show only ended three weeks ago,” Jonah said. “I’d say it’s ripe with conversational possibility.”
“If we’re making a list,” Gabe chimed in, “let’s add what are you majoring in? I could use a break from that question.”
“You still haven’t picked one?” Clara asked.
Gabe leaned back, tipping his chair onto its two back legs. “My mom’s gunning for political science, so I’ll probably just go for that. Make her happy.”
“You should make yourself happy,” Clara said.
“Hey.” He pointed at her. “This is on the list. No more talking about majors. Anyway, maybe I won’t major in anything. Maybe I’ll skip Reed altogether and become a roadie. Follow some band around the country.”
“Cool!” Rae said. “Can I join you?”
“Okay, okay,” Jonah said. “We’ll talk about something else. Gabe, I’m kicking your ass at Battlefield the second we get back.”
“No!” Rae said. “No battlefields, no assassins, no street fighters. Those are going on the list.”
Gabe snorted. “Who still plays Street Fighter?”
“I’m serious,” Rae said. “We’re taking a vote. Everyone who agrees to follow the rules say aye.”
“Aye!” Rae, Clara, and Aubrey said at the same time.
Rae banged her water glass again. “Sorry, gentlemen. The ayes have it.”
The waiter appeared again, this time carrying a bucket of ice and a bottle that looked suspiciously like champagne. Aubrey sat up straight. “How much is that?” she asked.
Clara ignored her, but there was a spark in her eyes as she directed the waiter to set a flute in front of each of them. A moped droned down the street, and bubbles rose through the liquid in Rae’s glass. Clara held her own glass in the air, and for the briefest second, her eyes met Rae’s. “What should we toast to?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Rae shrugged. “Graduation? Or our futures? Or some other bullshit like that?”
Clara turned to Aubrey. “Or I was thinking… to Aubrey’s budget.”
Gabe choked on his water.
Jonah laughed. “Oh yeah, I’ll definitely drink to that.”
They held their glasses high and concentrated their stares on Aubrey, who groaned and shut her menu. “You guys are the fucking worst,” she said. But she threw her shoulders back and cleared her throat before saying, in the loudest voice she possibly could, “TO AUBREY’S BUDGET!”
5
Aubrey
The Summer of Us Page 3