by Daniels, Viv
God, it was November and I didn’t have any friends on campus.
Before I let myself spiral into some sort of pity party, I packed up my things and drove out to Sylvia and Annabel’s apartment. Who needed friends on campus when you had friends off it?
The Warrens lived in a two-bedroom apartment smaller and dingier than ours. Annabel had done what she could to brighten the place up, and the walls were covered with photographs of Milo as well as his childhood artwork in cheery, cheap frames. When I arrived it was “reading time”—Milo was in the big armchair with a chapter book, and Annabel had stuck a bookmark into one of her nursing school textbooks to mark her place.
“Kitchen?” she said when she saw my face.
I nodded. “Coffee.”
Crowded around the little card table in the kitchen, I gave Annabel the short, PG-rated rundown of the events that had transpired over the last few days.
She still fanned herself. “Holy shit, Tess. You’re a femme fatale.”
“No, I’m not.”
She gave me an incredulous look over the rim of her coffee cup. “You made out with him on his countertop, then insisted you weren’t going a step further until he dumped his princess girlfriend? And he agreed? The CIA should hire you.”
I looked down into my mug. It hadn’t been like that.
“And to think,” my friend continued. “Last time we spoke about this you were still claiming you didn’t want him back. I so knew you were lying. I always know when you or Sylvia are pulling a fast one. Sylvia may think she’s the actress in the family, but I had her beat—sneaking around with boys at fourteen and no one the wiser…well, until I got knocked up.”
I rolled my eyes. It was the end of the story that troubled me. Why hadn’t he called?
“I don’t know,” Annabel said when I asked her. “Maybe he’s had a harder time getting in touch with Hannah than he’d planned. If he’s the guy you say he is, he’ll want to break up with her in person, right?”
“True.”
“Don’t let this Elaine chick plant fear in your head. She’s the one acting devious, not Dylan.”
“Except for cheating on his girlfriend,” I pointed out.
“He only cheated a little.”
I wondered if that would be Hannah’s take on the situation. Too bad Annabel was home tonight and not cynical Sylvia. I felt like I needed both the angel and the devil on my shoulders right now.
It wasn’t that a few hours were making me doubt Dylan. It wasn’t that Elaine’s words were haunting me. It wasn’t anything I could put my finger on. But somehow, the security, the certainty I’d felt last night when I left Dylan’s apartment had faded. Then, I’d trusted that it would all work out as we’d planned. He loved me and I loved him, and he was going to break up with Hannah and we’d be together. We’d be happy. But every hour that passed made me wonder more and more if that was a bigger fantasy than the ones lining Sylvia’s bookshelves.
I’d told myself all night and all day that everything was going to be fine, but why did I expect that? Why did I think I even deserved it? It shouldn’t be easy to steal my secret sister’s boyfriend.
I wondered what Dylan was telling Hannah about why they were breaking up. Dylan was always so honest and open. I hoped he wasn’t telling her he’d met someone else. I hoped he was giving her the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech. Because it wasn’t like that was a lie. It was Dylan—Dylan, who didn’t love Hannah the way he loved me.
I was an expert on lies of omission. Maybe I should have given him some tips.
Another check of my phone, just in case it had buzzed since I’d gotten to Annabel’s apartment. Nothing.
“Tess, honey.” Annabel put her hand on my arm. “You’re going to drive yourself nuts. Go do some homework or something.”
“Done.”
“Go to the movies.”
I made a face. “Alone?”
“Go get your nails done!” Annabel threw up her hands in frustration. “Whatever it takes to put your phone away for a few hours. A watched pot never boils.”
I slipped my phone back in my purse. True. But what if I didn’t even realize the stove was broken?
***
So I got my nails done at the mall. It felt weird to have polish on them, since I rarely bothered with stuff like that. Spa treatments were always more Mom’s thing. I’d purposefully left my phone in my car, and after the manicurist pronounced my hands dry enough to let me leave, I even spent what felt like forever wandering up and down the mall, window shopping. Nevertheless, when I got back to my car to check my messages, I’d only managed to kill an hour and a half.
Even worse, Dylan still hadn’t called. There was nothing left for me to do but go home.
I spent a quiet evening with Mom and around midnight, I finally gave up and went to bed. Correction: I got into bed and stared blankly at the ceiling, going over everything with as much scientific precision as I could muster without resorting to charts and graphs.
Hypothesis: All Dylan wanted was a lay, and when I didn’t give it to him, despite him throwing around the L-word like it was nothing, he decided to cut his losses.
Evidence for: Plenty. We met at his place, he plied me with wine, he only stopped when I asked him to, then he said yes to everything I laid out there, as if I’d throw caution to the wind and sleep with him if he promised to break up with Hannah. I thought back to all those times when Dad swore he’d leave his wife for Mom. Mom gave in; the divorce never happened.
Evidence against: “Tess, I love you.” If that was fake, he should drop out of Bio-E and join the Canton Theater department.
Hypothesis: This is all some big revenge scenario. He doesn’t want to get back together with me. He wants me to want it, and he’s never ever going to call me, just like I never called him two years ago.
Evidence for: Sylvia had suspected as much, hadn’t she? The first time I saw him with Hannah. The perfect revenge. And he’s not calling.
Evidence against: Then why bother texting me with: “Talk later?” He could have just said “Sucker!” and bolted.
Hypothesis: Elaine is right, and in the ensuing years since I first met Dylan he has turned into a ladykilling jerk.
Evidence for: He admitted he slept with Elaine’s roommate (and two other girls) he had no real feelings for. He made out with a girl who was not his girlfriend.
Evidence against: Elaine’s got it in for him. Plus, the aforementioned “Tess, I love you.”
Okay, I’ll admit it. Those four words had been on repeat in my head all day, especially as there hadn’t been any further conversations with Dylan to help supplant them in my mind.
But he hadn’t called. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t called.
Hypothesis: You deserve any and all of these outcomes for trying to steal your sister’s boyfriend.
On my nightstand, the phone started buzzing. When I looked at the screen, I noticed two things: 1:30 a.m. and the name Dylan.
Swallowing, I slid the button to answer and held the phone to my ear. “Hello.”
“Hi.” His voice was low, nearly a whisper. “Is it too late to call?”
“Almost,” I said. I went boneless beneath the covers. I’d almost talked myself out of the whole thing. But it was going to be all right. He said he’d call, and he did. All those hypotheses, the doubts that had plagued me all day long—they meant nothing. “Everything okay?”
There was a split second of hesitation. “Yeah. I mean, today was tough, but yeah. I hope so.”
He hoped so? What did that mean? “How is Hannah?”
“Not so great,” he admitted.
A stab of pain shot through my chest at those words. I wish there’d been some way to do this without hurting her. I’d never met Hannah, but she was still my little sister. “What did you tell her?”
I heard him sigh on the other end of the line. “It’s so late. I’m really tired. I can’t go through everything tonight. I—just wanted to hear your voic
e.”
“I’m right here,” I whispered. I knew what he meant. His voice on my pillow—it was like he was lying right beside me, in a way he never truly had. Back at Cornell, we hadn’t spent the night together, fearing that we’d get caught if I wasn’t back in my own bed by curfew. So many firsts to come, even if we were two years late.
“You’re everything to me, Tess. I want you to believe that.”
His words were warmer than any blanket. I wanted to believe it too. “Do you want me to come over?”
“No,” he said, his voice harsh in my ear. “It’s really late. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I immediately felt like a heel. Hey, Dylan, now that you’ve ditched your girlfriend, wanna bang? It’s been thirty minutes, right? Plenty of time for decency’s sake!
Of course, we hadn’t worried about decency last night, when we’d almost ripped each other’s clothes off in his kitchen.
Not true, said a little voice inside me. If I hadn’t been concerned about decency, I would have finished the job then, not insisted he break up with Hannah before we got together.
But what difference did that really make, in the scheme of things? If I were Hannah, would I really care whether or not he’d had sex with, or just made out with, the woman he was leaving me for? Wasn’t that girl equally evil either way? A girl who went after guys with girlfriends? Wasn’t that exactly the person I swore I’d never be?
Dylan was right. It was late. Far too late to be contemplating these sorts of questions. “I’m just glad you called,” I said sleepily as a yawn threatened to knock the receiver away from my chin. “I was beginning to worry.”
“I thought you might be.” Dylan’s tone was soft, almost like a lullaby. “I’m sorry if you waited up for me. I know how much you need your sleep.”
“Mmmm,” I murmured. My eyelids felt heavy, as if all the concerns of the day had wrung me out.
“Oh, Tess, I miss you so much. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”
“Me too,” I murmured, half asleep already.
I mean, I must have been nearly asleep. I don’t remember the rest of our conversation. I don’t remember how it ended. And I’m sure he couldn’t have said:
“—I’ll explain everything.”
But I swear I heard it anyway.
TWELVE
I awoke the next morning bleary-eyed but blissful. Everything would be okay. Dylan, the project, Canton—all of it. The weather outside was the type of brilliant day you only get in the fall—crisp air, scorching color, a sky as deeply blue as my lover’s eyes.
I was in such a good mood, I even decided to splurge on one of those fancy coffee drinks from the shop on campus instead of my usual cheapskate cup of joe. The shop was promoting its fall lineup of pumpkin mochas and maple lattes. I was trying to decide between a cinnamon caramel shot or a pumpkin spice foamer when I heard the girl next to me shout.
“Hannah! Over here.”
As smoothly as I could, I ducked behind the pastries. Canton was entirely too small a campus. I knew I’d run into her sooner or later, but I’d hoped to put at least twenty-four hours between my breaking up her relationship and our first hello.
“Miss?” the barista said to me. “Do you know what you want?”
“Pumpkin spice,” I chirped.
Behind me, the girl greeted my half-sister. Spiders started marching down my back.
“What size?”
“Large?” No, wait. Hadn’t I read somewhere that larges just meant they added extra milk, not extra espresso? I didn’t want to pay another dollar-fifty for steamed milk.
“Why didn’t you answer your phone all weekend?” the girl was asking Hannah. “Were you off on some romantic trip I didn’t know about?”
“No,” Hannah said softly. I flinched. “But that sounds better than what I was doing. I’ll have to suggest it to him for fall break.”
I stiffened. Suggest it to whom?
“That’ll be four-fifty,” the girl said, and I blindly thrust a five-dollar bill at her, then started sidling away. The coffee-making process seemed to take forever. Maybe it was the pumpkin spice. Finally, they handed me the cup, and I breathed a sigh of relief and tried to back out through the crowd of people waiting for their drinks.
“Hey!” Hannah’s voice called. “I know you.”
I froze, head bowed. Was there any possibility of pretending I didn’t hear her, even though we were standing less than five feet apart?
“Tess, right?” Oh, God, she said my name. This was against the rules. This was so against the rules. Then again, hadn’t the rules gone right out the window when I’d let her boyfriend put his tongue in my mouth?
I looked over, into eyes that matched my own. I wondered if she noticed it. “Yeah.”
She turned to her friend, a cute redhead with freckles and a frizzy pom-pom of a ponytail. “This is my boyfriend’s new lab partner. Tess just transferred to Canton.”
The red-haired girl shook my hand and probably introduced herself, too, but my brain was busy trying to process Hannah’s words.
My boyfriend’s lab partner…
“How’s the project going?” Hannah asked me, her many-colored eyes clear and guileless. “All I can make out about it is Dylan’s been working his ass off. I know that’s his style, but I hope he’s not driving you crazy.” Her smile was gentle, almost patronizing. I wanted to die.
“I’m so sorry,” I choked out. “I have to run. I have a class—” I made a gesture that I hoped indicated “across campus” and made for the door.
“That’s your boyfriend’s lab partner?” I heard the redhead say to Hannah. “Oh, honey, I’d watch out…”
Correction: now I wanted to die.
The second I was away from the doors, I started sprinting, ignoring the scalding hot pumpkin spice concoction splashing onto my hands. Why the hell had I decided to get coffee on campus when there were easily half a dozen coffee shops between school and my house? Why the hell hadn’t I stepped out of line the second I heard her name? Why the hell had Hannah called Dylan her boyfriend?
Maybe she was just saving face—maybe she didn’t want to get into the gory details with an acquaintance in the coffee line. After all, it had been the redhead who’d mentioned him first, and Hannah did say she hadn’t exactly had the most romantic of weekends. Maybe her whole line about hoping for one in the future was just a little white lie…
But that didn’t make any sense. She was the one who’d sought me out, who’d started a whole conversation about her boyfriend with me, as if I couldn’t possibly be the party he’d just dumped her for. I could well imagine Dylan not identifying me when he’d spoken to her. But I would also suspect every girl he’d ever met, especially his brand-new lab partner. Hannah couldn’t be that much of an idiot, right? She was my father’s daughter. And Dylan had liked her.
So maybe he hadn’t told her there was someone else. Still, he’d dumped her, and she’d immediately gone out of her way to have a chat with his lab partner? Either she was the sweetest girl in the entire world, or she was in some serious denial.
Or he never broke up with her at all.
Ugh. I hated that little doubtful voice in my head. He had broken up with her. He’d called last night to tell me he had.
He never actually said that, though, did he?
I looked up to find myself standing in front of the Swift building. Well, no time like the present to find out for sure, was there? I took the stairs, paused on the landing to chug the rest of the pumpkin spice and toss the cup, then strode over to apartment 202 and rapped sharply at the door.
Dylan answered, all wet, floppy hair and glasses. His eyes were bloodshot, sleepless, and his T-shirt and pajama pants were still rumpled. I wanted to climb all over him. God help me, I wanted him so badly I could taste it.
“Tess,” he said, surprised. “Don’t you have class?”
“Morning,” I replied and pushed past him. “Why? Are you expecting company?”
�
�What?” He trailed after me.
“Your girlfriend, maybe?” I turned around.
His face fell.
Along with it went my heart. My hopes. It was true. “You said you’d break up with her.”
“Tess—”
I shook my head, a short, desperate little jab. “You lied to me.”
He held his arms out. “What did you…hear?” His brow crinkled, disbelieving. “Did you go talk to Hannah?”
“You lied to me!” The pumpkin spice churned in my stomach. That insanely expensive little coffee might have been the worst decision of my life.
“Wait, Tess, tell me what you said to her.”
I was not going to sit here and get a lecture about the rules from Dylan of all people. I knew the rules about talking to Hannah before he’d ever heard of her.
“God, let me think,” I cried in mock contemplation. “I think, maybe, ‘Hi’?” Had it even been that much? “I didn’t seek her out or anything, Dylan. I’m not some evil bitch.” Even if I would steal her boyfriend, I wouldn’t rub it in her face. “She was standing in line next to me at the coffee shop. And she’s the one who started going on and on about how I’m her boyfriend’s lab partner, and her boyfriend this and her boyfriend that, and she and her boyfriend are going to go away on a romantic vacation next month.”
“What?” He looked honestly baffled.
“So tell me, Dylan,” I said, my voice low and dangerous, “which is it? Is Hannah Swift the most deluded person on the planet, or am I? Am I the biggest idiot in the universe for believing you when you said you were going to break up with her?”
Dylan said nothing for a long moment, just stared at me with heartbreak in his eyes. “Tess, I need you to sit down for a second. I need to tell you something and I didn’t want you furious when you heard it, so…”
No way. No. Way. I had heard a variation on this speech a hundred times. I was not my mother, to be reasoned out of the kind of life I wanted for myself, the kind of person I wanted to be. I started past him toward the door. Why had I ever thought it would turn out differently? Why had I even thought I was worthy of that? A girl who would steal her own sister’s boyfriend? I was the devil.