The Romantics

by Leah Konen

  Anika’s hands were balled up at her sides. “That’s not what I meant!”

  Mason stood stock-still, looking utterly and completely lost. “But why else wouldn’t you want to hang tonight? We had it all planned out. I even got reservations.”

  Gael remembered what Mason had texted last night. Was Anika really that mad that Mason had assumed they’d hang out that night? Sure, she was independent, but it seemed ridiculous, even for her.

  “I just said I changed my mind, okay? I’m allowed to change my mind.”

  “I know, but I don’t see why,” Mason pleaded.

  Anika shook her head and stepped back. “You know, maybe this isn’t working, okay?” And she flipped around and stomped straight toward where Gael stood frozen, watching it all play out.

  Anika stopped suddenly when she saw him. “How much of that did you hear?”

  People pushed around them, but it didn’t seem to matter if anyone overheard. It felt for a second like it was just the two of them, like it used to be sometimes. “The important parts, I think,” Gael said.

  Anika shrugged. “Well, now you know that I’m a bad person all around,” she said. “Have a good one.”

  “Wait,” he said. This wasn’t right. He’d seen the way she was with Mason. That’s what had made Gael and Anika’s breakup so hard.

  Anika stopped. “I don’t need another lecture, Gael.” Her eyes flitted around the hallway. “And in front of everyone again. I really don’t.”

  A few passersby stole looks at them. She was right, the rumor mill would be busy today. But Gael didn’t want to lecture her. That was the last thing on his mind. “Did you guys really just break up?”

  Anika sighed, and he could see that her eyes were beginning to water. “I don’t know,” she said.

  “What happened?” Gael asked. “Mason really cares about you. I’m sure there’s an explanation for anything he did—”

  “He didn’t do anything,” Anika said. “Besides give me the time of day even though you were his best friend.”

  Gael scrunched up his eyebrows. “You’re telling me you’re mad at him, even though you’re the one who, technically speaking, cheated?”

  Anika’s arms dropped to the sides. “It’s messed up. I know. But . . . well—” She fooled around in her backpack and pulled out a book. She pushed it into Gael’s hands.

  Relationship Karma: What Goes Around Really Does Come Back Around

  Gael took the book from her. It looked like something his dad would read. In fact, it looked like one of the books his dad had already given him.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “It’s just a book I found on Amazon, okay? I ordered it after your birthday dinner. I don’t know, I was feeling a little bit bad about being a complete and utter harlot, all right?”

  Gael shook his head. “You’re not a harlot. Geez. And who says harlot?”

  “Anyway.” She took the book back and stuffed it in her bag, looking around to see if anyone had read the bright words of the new age title. “It basically says that anything that starts in chaos ends in chaos. And that it’s not good to rack up such bad vibes in relationships. It will affect your relationship karma for the rest of your life—and maybe your lives after.”

  Gael laughed. “You needed a book to tell you not to cheat on your boyfriend?”

  She crossed her arms. “You know, forget it. I’m sorry I told you.” She started to turn away.

  But Gael reached for her shoulder. And instead of shaking him off, Anika turned to face him again.

  His hand dropped back to his side. It was the moment of truth, the chance to detail out just how shitty she had treated him, but not in an explosive, hysterical way like he had at his birthday dinner. This time, it would make an impact, he could tell. This time she was actually listening.

  And yet . . . he had a feeling she already knew how much she’d screwed up.

  He had a feeling he should maybe worry about his own relationship karma.

  “Look,” he said. “You really hurt me, and that’s not going to just disappear.”

  Her mouth fell to a frown. Gael held his hand up. He wanted to finish what he had to say. She looked down at her feet as he spoke: “But I did put a lot of pressure on you by saying ‘I love you’ so fast. And you definitely handled it in a completely shitty way, but I don’t know, maybe it’s how it was supposed to happen. Maybe you wouldn’t have done something so crazy if there hadn’t been good reason for it.”

  Anika didn’t say anything, just stared at the dusty tiles beneath her feet. She was wearing the red Mary Janes again. He’d always love those Mary Janes, even if he didn’t love her anymore.

  “Just don’t ruin a good thing with Mason on account of me,” Gael said finally. “Life’s too short not to be with the person you want to be with.”

  The warning bell rang, and Gael walked away without another word, feeling strangely, insanely good.

  let’s not even pretend to work on the chem lab, shall we?

  Gael found that he was nervous as he approached chem after lunch that afternoon. He hadn’t spotted Mason or Anika at lunch, and he worried that, despite his motivational speech, Anika still hadn’t been able to forgive Mason—or, more accurately, forgive herself.

  But when Mason walked in, his fears were instantly dispelled. There was a conspicuous smudge of lip gloss on the bottom of Mason’s mouth.

  Gael rolled his eyes. They hadn’t been arguing at lunch. They’d been making out. Typical Mason. And Anika, for that matter.

  Mason sat down, beaming.

  “Dude,” Gael said. “I realize you’ve been known to wear makeup on occasion, but there’s really no need now. I’m no longer being tortured by assholes in middle school.”

  “Huh?” Mason asked.

  Gael pointed at the bottom of Mason’s lip.

  “Ohhhhh,” he said. He laughed. “You caught me. Is that weird?”

  Gael nodded. “Yeah, but it’s okay.”

  They both laughed.

  It was lab day in chem, and Gael and Mason spent the whole of the period doing just about nothing with their microscope.

  Instead, they talked about Gael’s mom—Mason urged him to listen to whatever she had to say, but Gael didn’t want to. He already knew enough.

  And the reservations Mason had made for dinner with Anika that night were at 411 West, the pinnacle of the Chapel Hill dating scene. Gael chuckled to himself imagining gangly Mason sitting in front of a white tablecloth and trying to choose the right fork.

  And finally, they talked about Cara.

  “So you’re supposed to see her this afternoon?” Mason asked. “And it’s like, the afternoon?”

  Mrs. Ellison walked past them, and for a second, Gael pretended to adjust his microscope.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I didn’t know how to cancel. And I don’t know if I should.”

  Mason raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure Sammy doesn’t like you?” he asked.

  Was he? Gael wondered.

  (And it made me so sad because I knew deep down that he shouldn’t be sure, that he still had a shot, but I also know that while Romantics fall hard, they take rejection even harder, especially at the beginning.)

  Gael was sure of one thing—that Sammy had been right. Timing was everything. Maybe if things had happened sooner. Maybe if he hadn’t been distracted by Cara. But how was he supposed to compete with her high school sweetheart? Sammy loved John. That was so clear from all the times she’d talked about him before he’d broken up with her. How could Gael ever compete with that?

  (Romantics love deeply—beautifully—but their fatal flaw is doubting deep down whether anyone can truly feel as strongly about them.)

  “I don’t think it’s going to happen with Sammy,” Gael said finally.

  Mason scrawled gibberish on their worksheet, pretending to do something as Mrs. Ellison looked over. After a minute, he shrugged.

  “Cara’s cool. You do like her. So what if she’
s not the one? Maybe she’s the one for right now?”

  the pros and cons of dating gael, according to sammy’s scratched-out list

  the kiss: part one

  The afternoon rolled around, and no matter how nervous Gael was about it, it was time to see Cara. Her self-imposed month of singlehood was officially over, and he’d decided to take Mason’s advice. Why not? Cara made him happy, for the most part. Could you really ask for more than that?

  It was an unseasonably warm day for November, and Cara had suggested a picnic on the lower quad.

  As he walked across campus, students were tossing Frisbees and drinking out of cups that probably held way more than coffee, taking advantage of one of the last pleasant days of fall.

  (Fun fact: No fewer than five future couples would meet on the quad that Friday. There was something about impending winter that made people pair off like their lives depended on it.)

  Gael spotted Cara spread out in front of Wilson Library. She was sitting on a red blanket and was even wearing a polka-dot dress.

  “Wow,” he said, as he walked up and sat down next to her. “You look great.”

  “Don’t act so surprised,” she laughed.

  “You know that’s not what I mean.”

  She produced a pair of bagel sandwiches and pushed a warm paper cup into his hand. “I got us lattes from the Daily Grind,” she said cheerfully. “It’s not as good as Starbucks, if you ask me, but I remember you saying it was your favorite.”

  “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he said.

  “It wasn’t trouble at all,” she said. “Here, have a sandwich.”

  Gael took his gratefully and ate, eager for something to do. They chatted a bit, about the weather, about the coffee, about how the kids next to them were so bad at throwing Frisbees.

  Eventually, the sandwiches were gone, and the lattes were finished, and there was nothing left to distract them anymore.

  Cara scooted closer to Gael on the blanket, and he hesitated, but then he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She leaned closer, the empty cup still in her hands, then she began to pick apart the cup in pieces, while Gael’s hand gently stroked her shoulder. He was unsure of where to go from there.

  Finally, when the cup was disintegrated, Cara looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and they both leaned in, and their lips touched for the second time.

  one-track mind

  Frankly, I was just a teensy bit worried about the kiss. But when I took a little glance into Gael’s mind to see if I still even had a shot at making this work, here, readers, is what I saw:

  SAMMY SAMMY SAMMY SAMMY SAMMY SAMMY SAMMY . . .

  And before you start feeling sorry for our dear Serial Monogamist friend, here’s what Cara was thinking:

  I’m sure I’ll like the next kiss better.

  I’m sure we’ll grow to be really excited about each other.

  I’m sure, at least, that I’ll have someone to hang out with these next few weeks . . .

  Bingo! It looked like my plan wasn’t that far off track after all.

  the kiss: part two

  Gael was kissing Cara when he heard pounding feet coming at them.

  He didn’t even have time to figure out what was going on before a giant Frisbee player backed right into him, tripping over him and wrenching him and Cara apart.

  “Holy shit!” Gael yelled. “What the hell?”

  The guy quickly rolled back up, grabbed his Frisbee. “Sorry dude. Didn’t see you there.”

  (All I had to do was send the Frisbee that much farther than it was supposed to go. Sometimes, I swear, my job is almost easier than it should be.)

  “Ass!” Gael called as the guy ran off.

  He turned to Cara. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded slowly, looking more shocked than anything. And then, suddenly, she looked like she’d figured something out, solved a problem, realized something big.

  (Me again! I’d bought both of them just enough time to reflect, to step out of the kiss, to see it for what it really was.)

  “I need to get back to my dorm and study,” Cara said. She stood up and began to pack everything into her bag.

  Gael didn’t even try and stop her. Instead, he stood up, helping her gather her stuff together. He understood her meaning exactly.

  “Go,” he said kindly. “I’ve got stuff to do, too.”

  And with that, my friends, Gael’s untimely Rebound officially came to an end.

  to catch a thief

  Once Cara had all her stuff packed and they’d exchanged an awkward good-bye, Gael rushed out of the lower quad, past Student Stores, and toward South Campus as fast as his legs would take him. With any luck, Sammy hadn’t left for the airport yet. Maybe he still had a chance with her, he thought hopefully—maybe he could make the timing be right!

  He ran fast, dodging students carrying books, a big guy with a trombone, and a tiny girl with a ridiculous amount of photography equipment strapped to her back.

  But he stopped once he got to the bell tower. There was one huge problem. He had no idea where Sammy lived. Sure, he was heading toward a lot of dorms, but she could live practically anywhere.

  He tried calling her, but the call went straight to voice mail.

  He looked down at his watch. It was almost 5:00. Had she told him when her flight was? He couldn’t remember that, either, but he didn’t think so.

  He paced back and forth in front of the bell tower, trying to rack his brain for the name of her dorm. He vaguely remembered her saying it once when they were walking to the horror movie lecture.

  Hines something? It started with an H and had two words, he was almost totally positive. She’d made some joke about it being like the Howard Johnson motel.

  Even if he could remember the name of it, he had no idea where it was.

  He needed a map.

  Filled with resolve, Gael turned around and sprinted to Student Stores, which he could only hope would have a good map.

  His foot caught on a “brick monster,” as Sammy called them, one of the uneven bricks in the sidewalk, but he caught himself before he fell and kept on running.

  He took the steps two at a time to get to Student Stores. Once inside, he pushed through the rows of UNC sweatshirts and other paraphernalia to the book area. Laminated fold-up maps were sitting in a bin, right next to the blue books students used to take exams. He flipped one over: $3.99.

  Gael glanced over to the register. A mom, likely in town for a football game, was arguing with the cashier about the discount level on a sweatshirt.

  Screw it, he thought.

  He did a quick perimeter check and shoved the map into his pocket, then walked, as casually as he could manage, toward the back door.

  “Hey,” a voice said behind him.

  The hair on his neck stood up.

  “Hey, I saw that.”

  Gael looked back quickly to see a short, compact dude staring back at him. The guy looked like he could run.

  Without thinking about the consequences, without considering the fact that it would almost certainly be easier to just call it a misunderstanding and pay for the damn map, without thinking—well—at all, Gael grabbed a tower of XL UNC sweatshirts and flung it to the ground. People burst into yells all around him as a blanket of school spirit covered the ground.

  Then he ran, faster than he’d ever run before, weaving in and out of confused students and horrified parents until the double doors were in sight and he was out, out into the fall air, taking the steps three at a time, holding up his hand to stop campus traffic, and dodging back behind the bell tower.

  Gael’s heart was racing, his clothes were soaked with sweat, and he could barely breathe. He wrestled out of his sweatshirt and tried to find his breath.

  Then he peeked around the side of the tower and gazed toward Student Stores. The guy who saw him was nowhere in sight. Nor were campus cops or irate store managers or SWAT teams.

  He’d made it. He had neve
r, ever stolen something before. He had never even considered it, much less engaged in a high-speed foot chase. It felt good, exhilarating. This was the new Gael Brennan! A maniac for romance!

  The bell tower chimed five times. It was now 5:00.

  Not wanting to lose any more time, he unfolded the map as quickly as he could and scanned it for H-names. Horton, Hardin, Howell—there was nothing with two names. His eyes continued to search while students walked past, talking animatedly, excited for the weekend.

  Finally, at the very bottom, about as far away as possible—Hinton James.

  That had to be hers. He was sure of it.

  Now if he could only make it there in time.

  the hitchhiker’s guide to unc

  Between the sweatshirt in one hand, the map in the other, and the backpack on his back, Gael found it hard to maintain a run as he rushed to South Campus, easily a twenty-five-minute walk away. He went south on Stadium Drive and couldn’t help but slow down a bit to catch his breath. If he kept this up, by the time he got to Sammy’s, he wouldn’t even have the stamina to make the speech he hadn’t had a chance to prepare.

  “Coming through,” Gael heard someone say behind him, and he turned to see a dude on a golf cart, trucking down the brick pathway, right toward him.

  Gael froze as a thought filled his mind. A nutty thought. But he’d already stolen a map, knocked over a tower of sweatshirts, and made a successful escape. What was one more ridiculous move in the quest to get to Sammy in time?

  Gael held his hands out in front of him, the universal symbol for stop.

  “Whoa there,” the driver said, slowing down.

  Gael rushed up to the side of the cart, hand on the frame so the guy couldn’t get away without a chat. “Where are you going?” he asked.

  The guy was wearing a blue track jacket and a hat that said UNC ATHLETICS. His face was creased with laugh lines. “The Dean Dome. Is there an emergency, son?”

  “The Dean Dome is right next to Hinton James, right?” he asked.