by Tessa Teevan
And when the playlist ends with Elton John’s Your Song, I can’t help the tears that silently fall, wishing for something I know I want, know I could have, but I’m just not sure I should. At least not now.
WHEN I wake up the next morning, the music is still playing in my ears. Instead of feeling sad or sorry for myself, I decide that I should return the favor. After all, I was the one who suggested that we be friends, so who am I to ignore Cohen’s gesture? Like he said to me, I’m not his and he’s not mine, which is exactly how I want it. At least that’s what I tell myself. If he wants to hook up with other girls, more power to him. In fact, that’s probably a good thing. He’s apparently as inexperienced as I am, and we’d probably just end up being a disaster if we tried for anything more.
At the same time, I feel this indescribable pull towards him, and I have since the day we met. Even when I was trying to avoid him, it was a constant battle between my head and my heart every time I saw his familiar frame and messy, blond hair walking across campus. As much as I tell myself that I should accept his own acceptance of our own friendship, I already know that he was right in the first place when he said that he didn’t want to be friends—couldn’t be friends. Bringing my hands to my face, I groan into them. I’m beginning to give myself a headache from all this back and forth.
I think that’s why I like Teddy. I like spending time with him, but he doesn’t pull me off my axis like Cohen does. He doesn’t make me think of what more could be like. And that’s exactly the type of relationship I want right now. Fun, uncomplicated, and not serious. With Cohen, I have a feeling that things would be way too complicated, and I’m not even sure why. Our chemistry was undeniable, even from the start, which is probably why I so easily fell into bed with him, which already led to too many complications. I’m beginning to rethink this whole mix-CD-swapping thing, but I feel like it’s the least I can do. Even if we’re not going to be friends, we still have music in common, so I decide that there’s no harm in making him one of my own.
Sitting through my classes all day is a struggle. The entire time, I’m jotting down song ideas in my notebook, itching to get back to my dorm room so I can create my own mix CD. I have a pretty good list of songs, and even though some of them could seem to have a hidden meaning, I tell myself that they are just my favorites and I want to share them. It doesn’t mean anything. I liked them well before I met Cohen, and even if he fell off the face of the Earth and I never saw him again, I’d still like these songs.
AFTER WHAT feels like the longest day since I started college, I enter my dorm and flop down on my bed, ready to take a nap. Thanks to Seth’s dragging me out on both Friday and Saturday nights, I didn’t do any homework. The raging hangover I was battling yesterday didn’t relent until almost five in the afternoon, so I had to scramble and pull an all-nighter last night just to get all my homework done. Never again, I tell myself.
All day, I struggled to stay awake, and if it weren’t for my lab partner, I’m pretty sure I would’ve lit myself on fire in the chemistry lab. Fortunately, I think she has a crush on me, so she took pity and did most of the lab work—which only succeeded in making me feel like a piece of shit. As my eyes begin to close, I make a vow that, from now on, it’s homework first, social life second. Or maybe I can have one night on the weekend set aside to go out, but the other will be for homework. Either way, there will be no more two-nighters in my future. If Seth keeps this up, he’s going to have a find a part-time wingman.
“Wake up, man!”
I blink my eyes open to see Seth standing over me, a huge grin on his face. “What the hell, Seth?” Sitting up, I look at the clock and see that it’s after six. I’ve been asleep for a little over three hours, and even though I want to kick his ass for pulling me out of the dream I was having, it’s probably a good thing he woke me up now or I’d be up all night again.
“Get up, get in the shower, do whatever you have to do to get ready. You have twenty minutes,” he tells me as he absentmindedly checks his phone.
Looking at him, I can see that he’s already dressed in a pair of jeans and a nice button-up shirt, his dark hair perfectly styled with his favorite sculpting gel. I know I don’t have any homework tonight, but I’m still exhausted and I have no desire to go out tonight. Would I be incredibly lame if I set a rule about no going out on weeknights? I worked my ass off too hard in high school to come to college and fuck around.
“Not tonight, Seth. I’m still beat from the weekend,” I try to tell him, but he just shakes his head at me, not accepting that answer.
“Too late, Cohen. I already told the girls we’d go out with them. Dinner and putt-putt. No big deal. Just some fun on a double date,” he informs me, a sly grin on his face.
I can’t help but let out a long groan. The girls. Fuck me. Not the girls.
“Please tell me you’re kidding. I know you had a good time with Jessica, but I told you I have no interest in Kelsey. Sure, she’s hot, but I don’t think she’s my type.”
“Not your type? Who says you need a type? You’re just having fun, not marrying the girl. So go out with her, get a little action, and then move on,” Seth says, looking at me as if it’s the most logical thing in the world. And to him, it probably is.
I guess I’m just not wired that way. This is what Knox is talking about, and I wonder how we could see things so differently. Before Megan, I think Knox used to think more like I do, but she ruined him for all women after that. That’s why he keeps telling me to get experience and play the field before I settle down, and when I think about him and what happened, I can understand his logic. I’m just not sure that’s for me.
“Fine, but if she falls asleep on my dick this time, I’m never playing wingman again. In fact, I’m not even going to let it get that far. I have lab early tomorrow, so I’m not staying out late, even if you end up going home with Jessica. And it’s not a date.”
“Okay, fine. It’s not a date. Whatever. Just get ready. You’ve already wasted five minutes debating this with me.”
With a grumble, I grab my shower stuff and leave him alone, wondering what I just agreed to.
When I get back to the room, I see a CD case sitting on my bed.
“What’s this?” I ask, turning to Seth, who is currently in the middle of playing Call of Duty.
He barely looks up at me from his screen. “Oh, some girl just dropped that off and asked me to give it to you. She was pretty hot, too. I told her you’d be back shortly and she could stay and wait, but she said she had somewhere to be.”
Andi. Andi was here. She must’ve gotten my CD. No shit, dummy. That’s probably why she gave you one of her own.
“How long, Seth? How long ago was she here? Did she say anything else?” I ask, wanting to know everything. The desperation must be obvious in my voice, because he looks at me and then back at the screen, cursing when his player gets killed.
“Cohen, chill. It was probably less than two minutes ago. If that. And no, she just asked that I give it to you and then she couldn’t stay. Why? Who is this girl?”
Not bothering to answer him, I’m thankful that I’m already dressed before I throw on a pair of tennis shoes and head down the hall, trying my hardest not to run. Pushing through the door, I breathe a sigh of relief when I spot her walking across the parking lot not too far away. Even though I probably look like an idiot, I break out into a sprint. I call out her name, and she turns just as I reach her.
“So you finally come by the dorm again and you don’t even wait to say hi?” I tease, giving her a playful smile.
She puts her hands in her pockets and shrugs her shoulders. “I just wanted to drop off the CD. Your roommate said you guys had plans and I didn’t want to hold you up.”
Fucking Seth. “Oh, yeah. Look, about that—” I start to say, but she cuts me off.
“No, Cohen, it’s okay. Seriously. Reese told me all about it, and I get it. I just wanted to say thanks for CD. Nice touch with the Toy Story song. If
I didn’t know better, I’d think you have a thing for Disney songs.” A small smile crosses her lips, but it’s quickly erased when she looks back up at me. “Look, I wanted to apologize for ducking out on you that morning and then for the night at the party. At the time, I didn’t understand what you meant, but I promise you, I get it now.”
Drawing my eyebrows together, I let out a long breath. “I don’t understand what you get, Andi. Didn’t you listen to the CD? I was being an asshole that night. I was wrong when I said we couldn’t be friends. In fact, I’d really like to be. I promise, I won’t try anything.”
She stares at me for a few beats, and just as she opens her mouth, I hear my named being called. Turning around, I groan when I see Seth, Jessica, and Kelsey waiting on me. My timing freaking sucks ass when it comes to this girl. Holding up my finger to signal one second, I turn back towards Andi, whose demeanor has already changed.
“I guess I’ll let you get back to what you were doing,” she says and turns to walk away.
I catch her arm and pull her back to me. “Andi, isn’t this what you wanted? You’re seeing someone, and so am I.” The lie slips right off the tip of my tongue, and when I see something flash in her eyes, I immediately want to take it back.
“You’re right, Cohen. You’re absolutely right. And you were right that night, too. I don’t think friendship is in the cards for us, at least not now. We both have our own stuff going on and being friends would probably just complicate things.”
Fuck. Talk about your words coming back to kick you in the ass. I want to tell Seth and the girls to fuck off, to figure out why Andi came to the same conclusion as I did, but at the same time, I understand her and already know the answer. I think we both know that being friends would just be weird, especially if we’re both with other people—even though I’m technically not.
She glances down at her watch and then looks back up at me, her expression unreadable. “I’ve gotta get going, and so do you. Take care of yourself, Cohen.”
She turns and starts to walk away. She’s only about twenty feet away from me when I call out to her.
“Hey, Andi?” She stops in her tracks and cranes her neck to look at me. I hold up the CD. “If nothing else, we’ll always have music, right?”
Her sad smile sends a shot right to my heart, and she gives me a small nod. “Absolutely. Enjoy the CD, Cohen. I’ll see you around.”
Instead of watching her leave, I look down at the CD, turning it over to study the notebook paper that has a list of the song titles. Some I recognize, and some I don’t. Looking back up, I realize that she’s already gone.
“See you around,” I echo to pretty much no one.
It’s funny how three words that are supposed to have a promise of the future feel more like a final goodbye.
LATER THAT night, I’ve finally broken myself away from Seth, Jessica, and Kelsey. Fortunately, Kelsey didn’t mention anything about falling asleep mid-fellatio. I’m pretty sure she didn’t even remember it. Seth kept making jokes alluding to it, which earned him the death glare, but Kelsey just kept on smiling like she had no idea what he was talking about.
The whole night, I was preoccupied, and my mind was back in my dorm and on the CD that was waiting for me to listen to it. To see what Andi had to say to me in response to the one I gave her. Luckily, some of Seth’s fraternity brothers were also playing mini golf, and after seeing that I wasn’t in the mood to play around, Kelsey wasted no time in getting the attention of someone else. So I told Seth that I had a headache and was going back to campus. He told me not to wait up, and I was grateful to know I’d have the room to myself so I could listen to Andi’s CD alone.
When I get back to my dorm, I set my laptop up on the nightstand and open up the CD case. A small note flutters out.
Hey, Cohen. These are just some of my favorites. Maybe you’ll discover new favorites, too. -Ruby
I lie down on my bed and press play, smiling when the first song is The Bitch is Back. If only. I listen to the rest of the songs and my mind’s already reeling from some of them. If I listen to the lyrics, there’s more behind them, but I tell myself that it doesn’t mean anything. At least I try to until I get to the last song. After pulling my laptop onto my lap, I check out the song. So Contagious by Acceptance, a band I’ve never heard of before. I set the song to play again and draw up the lyrics to read as I listen. As the lyrics play on, I realize that the singer could be me. I could have written this song the night I met Andi. I mean, it doesn’t exactly describe our situation, but the feelings seem the same, and I have to wonder if she feels the same way.
The CD starts over again with Elton, and I shake the thoughts out of my head. She said that these were her favorite songs, and it’s probably just that. I can’t—I won’t—read any more into it than that. She wouldn’t purposely put something on here that had hidden meaning on them only to turn around and tell me that we can’t be friends. Or, well, confirm what I already told her—even though I wanted desperately to take it back. Maybe, however, this was her way of saying that we could still communicate even if it isn’t through words. At least not our own. That doesn’t actually sound like a half-bad idea, even if it wasn’t her intention. Like I told her, we’ll always have music.
After making a note of the bands on her playlist that I don’t know, I spend the next couple of hours on YouTube researching all of them, highlighting those that I like—which is, unsurprisingly, most of them. I add them to my iTunes library, then set about trying to find ones that she might like, too, and make a CD in response, even adding Missy Elliott’s One Minute Man just to make her laugh, to show her that it’s no big deal and even I can make a joke about it.
Once the CD is done, however, I set it in an empty CD wallet and close my laptop. Lying back on my bed, I stare up at the ceiling. Now that the room is completely silent, thoughts begin swirling in my brain. I replay everything from the moment Andi spilled beer on my shirt and then felt me up while she pretended to clean it off. I begin second-guessing the whole ‘speaking through music’ thing as the idea of it starts to sound like a stupid cliché.
After racking my brain to determine what I’m going to do next, I finally start to drift off to sleep, but not before Andi’s last three words to me play in my mind.
“See you around.”
And like I thought earlier, it sounds so much more like a goodbye, and that freaking sucks, but I’m determined to get over it. Maybe Knox was right. Instead of focusing on one girl, it’s time to get out there and see what college life has to offer.
PULLING UP to Mom and Dad’s house, I know this is going to be one hell of an interesting evening, and I’m not really sure what to expect. Christmas with the Wellingtons isn’t usually the most exciting affair. Dad and Branson talk business, Mom prattles around as she tries to make sure that dinner is perfect, Megan has her nose in a fashion magazine, and I usually stare at the television screen watching A Christmas Story, just biding my time until I can head back to my apartment. Every time my phone rings, Mom watches me expectantly, and I know what she’s doing. It’s what she’s done every year on Christmas ever since the very first one when Knox was gone. He would call the house, ask for me, and hang up unless I was given the phone. It took about two years for her to realize that he had no intention of talking to anyone but me. When I was younger, I didn’t understand it, but I loved my brother, and if he didn’t want to talk to anyone else, I respected that. It still bothered me to see the hurt in her eyes at his refusal.
This year, however, things are going to be way different. Earlier this year, Knox was injured in a bomb blast when he was overseas in Afghanistan. Once he was stable enough to come home, I stayed with him so I could help take care of him, but eventually, I had to go back to school for finals. I’d already missed the MCAT and I couldn’t get any more behind by missing finals as well. That’s when we met Charlie. She was sent to him by a local veteran’s assistance service to help care for him, and well, one thing led to
another and now they’re together. Somehow, Charlie and the whole incident seemed to have put things in perspective for Knox, and with a little nudge from me, Knox finally came home. It wasn’t easy, but it’s been a few months now and everything seems to be falling into place.
With a deep breath, I get out of the car and make my way inside. Not bothering to knock, I open the door and am greeted with lively Christmas music and the sound of voices—more animated than usual. I hang up my coat and am about to head towards the kitchen when Knox comes down the hall.
“Hey, Coh. Merry Christmas,” he tells me, throwing an arm around my shoulder and bringing me in for a pretend choke hold.
“Yeah, yeah. You too,” I choke out.
He lets go and eyes me warily. “It’s about time you got here. Have a late night last night?” he asks, a gleam in his eyes.
I can’t help the huge grin that spreads over my face. “Let’s just say it was a good night for celebrating, and boy, did I celebrate.”
“Oh yeah? What was the ‘celebration’ for?” he asks, putting air quotations around celebration.
I can’t help contain my excitement, and I feel like a little kid on Christmas morning, which, incidentally, I am—except for the little kid part. I pull a piece of paper out of my back pocket and hand it to him, watching as he unfolds the sheet and then scans it up and down. His brows wrinkle and he looks back up at me.