Across the Distance

by Marie Meyer

  “I feel the same way.” His voice rumbled low in his throat.

  My fingers wrapped around his bicep, holding as much of the artwork as I could in the palm of my hand. “You do?”

  “‘Forced’ is the perfect way to describe everything.” He tightened his grip around my hand that was still under the pillow.

  I was taken aback by his response. I knew the band was keeping him crazy busy and he was stressed. But I knew he loved every minute of it. I had no idea he was feeling the same way I did. I scrunched my face into a questioning look and said, “The same can be said for you. You’re following your dream. The band’s doing well and…” I trailed off, thinking of Erin. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, he had her, too. “You’ve got Erin,” I whispered. A sharp pain stabbed my heart. I wanted so badly to be the one he wanted. But I wasn’t, and I had to live with that. “What’s not right?”

  Griffin released my hand and drew his out from beneath the pillow. With his long fingers, he smoothed the creases between my eyes. “None of the band’s success feels right without you there to share it with. And Erin…” He paused. “She’s not who I want.”

  I drew in a quick breath, my heart and lungs constricting at the same time. What was he saying? I gripped his arm harder, not wanting to let go. “Who do you want?” I choked.

  Griffin used his thumb and wiped my falling tears from my cheek. Then a loud beeping sound blared from his pocket, scaring the shit out of me. Griffin cursed under his breath and shot up, digging his phone out of his pocket. At the same time, I sat up, feeling like he’d just been ripped from my side. I wiped my eyes with my hand and sniffled. “Who is it?”

  He gave the screen a quick glance, pressed a button to silence the beeping, and returned his attention to me. “It’s Ren. I’ve got her car.”

  “Oh,” I said. My throat was scratchy and my voice came out all garbled.

  Griffin held his hand out to me. I placed mine in his upturned palm and he yanked me into an all-consuming hug. I wrapped my arms around his waist, and buried my head between his arms and chest, refusing to let go.

  Something was changing between us and I wasn’t sure who was more scared: me, because he’d rejected me once, and I was afraid to let those feelings return; or him, because he knew I wasn’t someone he could fit into his “love ’em and leave ’em” lifestyle.

  * * *

  “Jillian, I’m back,” Sarah called before she opened the door.

  I rolled my eyes. She was ridiculous. “You don’t need to announce your arrival, Sarah. Griffin’s gone,” I said, looking up from the sketchbook on my lap.

  She opened the door and poked her head around. “Well, I didn’t want to interrupt anything…again.” She grinned, pushing the door open wider.

  “For the hundredth time, you didn’t interrupt anything. You know Griffin is only a friend.” Or is he? I was so confused. I lowered my eyes back to my mediocre sketches, trying to ignore the I-told-you-so vibes radiating off of her.

  “Yeah, that’s what you say.” She sat her overnight bag on the bed and started unpacking.

  “Whatever,” I said. I was annoyed, but not at Sarah and her comments. I was annoyed because ever since Griffin left yesterday morning, I felt we had more distance between us than just the thousand miles of road.

  Seeing I was in no mood to joke around, Sarah busied herself unpacking and organizing her drawers in between trips to the laundry room. After Griffin had left at the butt crack of dawn on Saturday, I’d spent the whole day and all of today finishing my laundry and cleaning up the mess we’d made in the room. With all of my housekeeping finished, I reserved tonight to catch up on some projects and study for my upcoming finals.

  * * *

  I was trudging through the snow on my way to the science building with my head crammed in a notebook filled with chemical formulas from my Chemistry of Pigment class. I took advantage of the long trek from one end of campus to the other just to get a few more minutes to study for my final. When I reached the lecture hall, Professor Royson stood at the door ready to greet each student personally by handing them their test as they walked in. “Good morning, Miss Lawson,” he said, shoving a test in my face.

  I closed my notebook and stowed it under my arm, smiling up at him. “Morning.” I took the test from his hand and walked into the lecture hall.

  “Even though you’re early, you may take a seat and begin. You will have until 12:30 p.m. to finish your final; after that, I will collect them. If you finish before the allotted amount of time, you are free to leave.”

  I turned around to acknowledge his instructions. “Thank you.”

  The empty hall had me wondering how early I actually was. As I climbed my way to the top row, I pulled out my phone to check the time: 10:15 a.m. I was only fifteen minutes early. Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I sat down with my test.

  I immediately dove into a sea of elements, molecular bonds, and unbalanced chemical equations. I really didn’t see how a chemistry background would enhance my designs, but it was refreshing to study something with actual right and wrong answers as opposed to being graded on something completely subjective.

  As the clock ticked closer to 12:15, I balanced my last equation and checked one more final off of my list. I was now officially halfway finished with my first semester of college, and two finals away from heading home. I was ready for a break, despite returning to my sister’s house. Hopefully, Jennifer and I would fall back into our wary dance of avoidance; otherwise, it would be a very long month. I was excited to see the twins, though; I missed them. But most of all, I couldn’t wait to see Griffin. I felt my cheeks flush at the thought. Since he’d left almost three weeks ago, every time he called, I couldn’t escape the jittery anxiety I felt.

  I placed my test on the stack with the others and headed for the door. When I walked into the hallway, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it free, seeing a FaceTime call from Griffin.

  I still didn’t know how to interpret Griffin’s flirty behavior at Thanksgiving, and what he’d meant when he said Erin wasn’t who he wanted. The few times we’d talked since then, my imagination always got the better of me, and I turned into a bumbling, nervous mess. I’d even spoken to Dr. Hoffman a couple of times about how confused I was. I couldn’t reconcile my feelings with the words Griffin had spoken last year, and what his actions had hinted at weeks ago. Had he changed his mind? In the end, Dr. Hoffman posed a question to me: “What do you want, Jillian?” She didn’t want me to answer, but to think about it, and when I knew, to be brave enough to follow my heart and own my decision. She also told me she wanted to see me over winter break. Even though our little phone sessions didn’t help clear any of the fog from my brain, it was still really nice to hear her voice.

  A kaleidoscope of butterflies turned over in my stomach when I slid my finger over the screen. Griffin smiled back at me as my picture shrank into the letterbox in the corner. “Hi, Griffin,” I said, smiling back.

  “Hi, Bean,” he said. “I can’t talk long, we’re filming a scene for our music video, but I wanted to wish you luck on your finals.”

  The deep timbre of his voice made my cheeks burn. I took a deep, focused breath before I replied. “Thanks. I’ve only got two more and then I’m outta here. But, wow, a music video?”

  “Yeah. You’ll be home on Sunday, right?” He ran his hand through his hair—something he did when he was nervous. Hmm, was he feeling the same way I was?

  “Yeah.” I nodded.

  “Cool. I’ll see you on Sunday, then. I gotta go, Bean,” he said, directing his thumb over his shoulder. “They’re ready to start filming.”

  “Have fun. See you soon.”

  “Not soon enough.” He winked at me and the screen went dark.

  I couldn’t agree more. A giddy smile spread across my face and the butterflies in my core fluttered with hope.

  Chapter Thirteen

  One more day. One more day. One more day…

  A
ll I had to do was get through today and then I would get to go home. Not home as in Jennifer’s house, but home as in Illinois…where Griffin was.

  Two finals stood between me and where I wanted to be. I’d breeze through one, but the other had the potential to kill me.

  I walked into the classroom just minutes before my teacher. As Ms. Halestrom passed out her History of Costume Design test, nervous energy poured from my fingertips. I tapped my pencil on the desktop and bounced my legs up and down waiting to get started on my final.

  Ms. Halestrom slid a stapled stack of papers onto my desk, and I quickly got to work. I read each question carefully and filled the bubbles with graphite. After forty-five minutes, I penciled in the last circle and sealed my fate.

  Handing in the test, I made a quick dash to the dining hall. I hoped to find a secluded table near the back of the room, grab a bite to eat, and review my presentation for my last final—Apparel Design Studio I—a.k.a. The Dream Crusher.

  Luckily, I had missed the lunch rush. Grabbing a tray, I went through the line and found a small table near the back of the room. I sat down with my turkey sub and pulled out my portfolio for one final review.

  I pored over the designs I’d made after Griffin’s Thanksgiving visit. Listening to him talk about Mine Shaft during those couple of days got the wheels turning in my head. When Griffin had started the band in high school, the guys had decided on the name Mine Shaft in order to pay homage to the historic coal mining industry of our city. It felt right that I should also take inspiration from those old abandoned mines for my Spring Showcase Collection.

  Taking a bite of my sandwich, I flipped through the pages of my portfolio and admired the sketches of my Diamond in the Rough collection. I envisioned models traveling up and down the catwalk sporting platinum blonde wigs with very urban styles: blunt cut bangs, short bobs, and uber-straight long hair. The models represented the “diamonds,” and the “rough” part would be conveyed through the coal black attire they modeled.

  In my preliminary sketches, I tried to keep my designs dark and edgy, with a hint of femininity. I limited my color scheme to silver, black, and white in an attempt to remain true to my collection’s name.

  As I turned over the last page of my portfolio, I finished my sandwich and smiled. My pulse quickened with anticipation. It was time for me to get in front of my peers and show them what I was made of…that I did have the savvy to make it as a designer. I brushed a hand over my portfolio, feeling pride in my accomplishments. I’d done it.

  I stowed my portfolio in my bag, cleaned up my mess, and then speed-walked to the door. Picking up my pace through the quad, I made it to the studio building with ten minutes to spare.

  Breathless, I collapsed in my seat. I closed my eyes and focused on regaining a normal breathing pattern before I needed to present my collection. Luckily, I had the alphabet on my side. Being an “L” meant three other presenters would go before I bared my soul.

  Professor Vine stood before us and explained how she would evaluate our final presentations. Each student was required to introduce their collection for the Spring Showcase through a virtual runway show on the school’s design software. Along with the virtual runway presentation, we needed a finished piece that would be used in the Showcase in May. The final portion of our grade focused on marketing—we had to sell our brand. If our fellow classmates weren’t “sold” on the designs and our presentation, our final grade would reflect a significant reduction.

  When Professor Vine finished her monologue, I felt sick to my stomach. Heavy self-doubt sat on my confidence and squelched the small amount of bravery I’d felt in the dining hall. I hated that part of my grade rested in the hands of my classmates. Small beads of sweat formed along my forehead even though I felt cold and clammy.

  By the time two of my classmates had finished their presentations I breathed a sigh of relief…until Professor Vine called Chandra to the front.

  Our collections were required to have five different pieces, and our overall theme was to remain present throughout the entire presentation. Chandra’s collection featured seven different pieces—two of which were already completed. As I listened to her pitch, my stomach twisted into a giant knot.

  Chandra finished her presentation with two mannequins adorned in artfully created cocktail dresses. One dress was the color of dark chocolate, and the other was called raspberry soufflé—aptly named for her Just Desserts theme. The class gave a thundering round of applause as she pushed the mannequins into line with the others. Graciously taking her final bow, she smiled and walked back to her seat.

  Now it was my turn.

  Before Professor Vine called me forward, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it free and saw a text from Griffin. You’re going to knock their fucking socks off!

  When my name was called, I stowed my phone and smiled, walking to the front of the classroom. While I set up for my presentation, Professor Vine thanked Chandra for her outstanding performance and turned the floor over to me. “Jillian, are you ready?”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes.”

  Standing before my peers, I decided to take Griffin’s advice. I opened my mouth, and the words flowed from me perfectly as I presented my virtual runway show. I explained the inspiration behind my collection and ended with a mannequin dressed in my signature piece: a black satin tank top with a thin white stripe separating the flowing ruffles that cascaded down the length of the left side. Sheer silver chiffon overlaid each shoulder strap. I paired the tank with low-rise black denim jeans, coated in shimmering silver glitter, and accented with white spandex pockets. Adorning the mannequin’s waistline was a slim, black patent leather belt with a silver loop at the navel. Black strappy, heeled sandals completed the outfit, tying the whole ensemble together. My mannequin looked ready for a night of clubbing, just as I’d intended.

  When I finished, I looked over the crowd and then to Professor Vine. Smiling, she joined me at the front of the room. My classmates applauded and Professor Vine thanked me for my hard work. Like Chandra, I pushed my mannequin into line, and took my seat. Professor Vine called up the next student and I breathed for the first time since I’d gotten to class. I was finished.

  After thirteen presentations, class was dismissed. I gave myself permission to celebrate the small victory over my final, but I knew I was far from finished. I still needed five perfect ensembles for the Spring Showcase. I sighed, shrugging off my daunting second semester. I didn’t want to think about that right now. Pushing open the doors of the studio building, I sent Griffin a text: There were fucking socks flying everywhere!

  Walking into Victor Hall, I encountered corridors filled with blaring music, laughter, and an overabundance of dresser drawers slamming shut—a good indication that we were all parting ways for an extended period of time. As I turned down the hall toward my room, Sarah came running up behind me. “Hey, Roomie, how did it go?” she asked, slinging her arm over my shoulder.

  My lips pulled into a smile. “I think I did really well.”

  Sarah threw her other arm around me, giving me a quick hug. “See, I told you so. One of these days, you’re going to start listening to me. I know what I’m talking about.” She winked.

  Walking down the hall to our room, I fished my keys from my purse and unlocked the door. “Yes, but I wouldn’t want to be responsible for your head getting too big.” I smirked.

  I followed Sarah into the room, dropped my bags next to the closet, and staggered to my bed. She walked to her side of the room and did the same. “When do you leave?” she asked.

  “As soon as the sun wakes up tomorrow.” I turned my head in her direction. “What about you?”

  “I fly out tonight. My parents got a cheap flight for me on the red eye.” She glanced at me and shrugged.

  I didn’t like the fact that she insisted on flying. Just thinking about her on a plane made my stomach twist up like a pretzel. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone I loved being in or
near any mode of transportation that left the ground.

  Overcome by fear, I launched myself off the bed. Startled, Sarah jumped from her bed. “Shit, you scared me!” she screeched.

  I stepped closer and wrapped her in a tight hug. I contemplated never letting her go. “I don’t care what time it is when you land. You better call or text me.”

  Even though her arms were pinned underneath mine, she still managed to lift them enough to pat my back. “I promise. I’ll call you before I even let my parents know I’ve landed.”

  “You better,” I said, still holding onto her. She didn’t say a word, but only nodded her head in agreement. She wiggled her shoulders, trying to pull away, but I wouldn’t let go.

  “Jillian, honey,” she said, patting me on the shoulder. “Um…”

  “You see, I have a plan,” I muttered. “If I don’t let go, then you can’t pack. If you don’t get packed, you’ll be late for your…You get the idea?”

  Without warning, she went limp in my arms. As she dropped to the ground, I fell with her and lost my grip. Shock and worry was smeared across my face while she was doubled over in a fit of laughter.

  “That got your attention,” she laughed.

  I swatted her arm. “You scared the shit out of me!” I shrieked. “I thought you passed out.”

  Laughing hysterically, she reached over to her bed and grabbed a pillow. “You wouldn’t let go.” She reared back and swatted me with the pillow, giggling. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

  I tried to pull the pillow away, but her grip was too strong. “Just call me, okay?”

  She gave me a reassuring smile and said, “I promise.” Getting up, she smacked me over the head one more time. “I’ve got to start packing.”

  * * *

  By late evening, Sarah had left for the airport, I was packed, and the rest of the dorm grew quiet as more people left for winter break. Lying on my bed, bored out of my mind, I called Griffin. I realized it was a Friday night and he probably had a show, but I tried anyway.