The Anti-Relationship Year

by Katie Wismer

  Jo inspected the pictures on her camera’s screen, and Miller ambled back to peer at them over her shoulder. “I should’ve been a model,” he mused.

  “I think you should stick with law school.”

  He squinted at her. “I can’t tell if that was supposed to be an insult.”

  “I didn’t expect to see you two here.”

  Miller stiffened, and Jo hesitated a moment before turning around.

  Foster. Of course she’d known he’d be here, but Tri Chi was a big enough frat there’d been a chance she wouldn’t have to see him.

  Well, she’d thought she had a chance.

  He was wearing a gaudy red suit; red, white, and blue socks; and a matching tie. Judging by the haze in his eyes, even though the cocktail hadn’t started yet, his night certainly had.

  “I’m working, Foster.” Jo held up her camera for emphasis. “You couldn’t find a date?”

  A girl in a shiny white slip dress appeared at his side and tucked herself under his arm, her eyes as glassy as his were. Her blonde hair was neatly arranged in a crown of braids atop her head. Honestly, she looked stunning.

  Not that Jo was going to tell her that.

  “Hi, Addie,” she offered.

  Addie looked her up and down, then flicked her gaze to Miller. “I guess some things never change, huh?”

  Jo raised her eyebrows at the two of them. “Clearly. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” She grabbed Miller’s sleeve and pulled him toward the bar. “Have fun tonight, guys!” she called over her shoulder, right before taking a picture at a very unflattering angle.

  “That one’s a keeper for sure.” Miller nodded at the camera screen.

  “I’m thinking it would do well on the Greek life home page.”

  Miller snorted and nodded at the bartender as they slipped back inside the restaurant. “Are you allowed to drink on the job?”

  “I agreed to nothing that said otherwise.”

  “You want a beer?”

  Jo waved over the bartender. “Two whiskeys.”

  Miller let out a low whistle. “So you’re trying to kill me tonight.”

  Jo watched Foster and Addie through the window as Foster not so subtly slipped a joint out of his pocket, and the two went in for a sloppy kiss. Foster immediately slid his hands down, trying to find purchase under her skirt. “To think we ever lived with them,” she muttered.

  “It’s a miracle we made it out of freshman year alive,” said Miller.

  Jo raised her glass. “Cheers to that.”

  The drowsy energy of the party slowly sharpened as more bodies poured through the doors, the air filling with laughter, high fives, and the clink of high heels against the floor. A buffet was set up in the center of the restaurant, where most of the younger brothers and their dates gathered, piling their plates high with nachos and burritos. Anyone who was old enough to drink immediately headed for the bar in the back and ventured outside to the patio. Jo and Miller lingered off to the side, sipping their drinks and sharing a plate of chips, Jo dutifully snapping away on her camera.

  Once people caught on to why Jo was there, groups rushed up to her, begging her to take their pictures. And that’s how the entire first hour went—guys holding up beers, arms thrown around one another’s shoulders, girls hanging off their dates with hair properly fluffed or thrown back. Once Jo had enough pictures to satisfy Daniel, she tucked the camera back into its bag and slung it over her shoulder.

  “Here, I’ll take it,” offered Miller.

  They ordered a round of Manhattans from the bar and ventured back onto the patio, now bustling with activity. Salsa music blared from the speakers, and a girl in a floor-length red dress was attempting to teach a group how to properly do the dance.

  “Oh!” Jo jostled Miller’s arm. “I want to learn!”

  He gestured toward the group. “Go on, then.”

  “Absolutely not.” She grabbed his wrist and dragged him along. “If I’m dancing, you’re dancing.”

  “Jo, I’m serious—”

  “One dance, Mill, please? I need a partner.”

  Miller sighed and glanced over his shoulder, probably looking for an escape route. But then he whipped around, seized Jo’s hand, and spun her toward him. Before she could react, he twirled her out again, his steps perfectly in sync with the music, his movements fluid. He pulled her against his chest one final time, one hand in hers, the other secure on her waist. She locked eyes with him, a little out of breath, and could feel his pulse hammering in his wrist.

  As he released her, a group of onlookers erupted in applause.

  “Don’t ask me why I know how to do that,” he said lowly.

  Jo stared at him, momentarily speechless, as he retrieved their discarded drinks from a nearby table and held one out to her.

  She grinned as she took it. “You are by far the best date I’ve ever had.”

  He winked. “I better be.”

  “Mind if I cut in?” Jordan stumbled between them and bumped into Jo hard enough that she fell back a step, her drink sloshing over the side of her cup.

  “Dude,” said Miller.

  “Sorry, man. I just tripped.”

  Jo wiped the liquid from her arm. “You’re drunk.”

  Jordan scoffed, swayed on his feet, then steadied himself on a nearby table. He was wearing a white button-down shirt nearly identical to Miller’s, though his now had a large brown stain from Jo’s drink. “Everyone here’s drunk,” slurred Jordan.

  “Let’s get you a DD,” offered Jo.

  “Not until we’ve had our dance.”

  Jo rolled her eyes toward the starry night above them. Even drunk, he surely had to hear how much he sounded like a petulant child.

  “Come on, dude,” Miller cut in. “It’s not going to happen.”

  Jordan got right in Miller’s face, so close their noses almost touched. Miller, to his credit, showed no reaction to this. “I didn’t realize you spoke for her now, dude.”

  “Jordan, please,” Jo said quietly. “You’re making a scene.”

  There were at least a dozen onlookers at this point, half of which were other members of Jordan’s fraternity. Jo shot them an exasperated look, but none of his brothers deemed it necessary to step in.

  “You really think anyone here is buying this act?” He flicked his wrist toward Miller. “We all know you friend-zoned him a long time ago. It’s just insulting, is what it is. For you to bring him to my frat. Or maybe it’s just pathetic. You couldn’t even find a real date. Guess that’s not surprising. With the way you get around, you should have a health advisory on your forehead—”

  Miller’s fist landed straight across his jaw. Someone gasped as Jordan’s body hit the floor. He grabbed a tablecloth on his way down, sending glasses shattering against the patio. The music cut off as Jordan spit and climbed to his hands and knees.

  Miller stepped over the mess and took Jo’s hand, his face entirely blank. But as calm as he looked on the outside, his hand was shaking. Jo stared at him, her entire body frozen in shock.

  “Get that bitch out of here,” Jordan spat.

  Miller surged toward him, but this time, the surrounding guys finally jumped in, some grabbing Miller and hauling him back, the others jumping in front of Jordan.

  “What the fuck?” The door to the restaurant flew open, and Daniel, the fraternity’s president, stormed over. He looked from Jordan on the ground, to the guys holding Miller back, to Jo. “What’s going on?” His question, apparently, was directed at her.

  Jo stared at him, wide-eyed. “He—I—”

  “Jordan’s drunk,” muttered one of the others. “He needs to go home.”

  “We were just leaving too.” Miller shook off the guys holding his arms and took Jo’s hand again. “You ready?”

  Jo nodded, mute, and shards of glass crunched under her heels as she followed him out the door. She glanced over her shoulder to see Jordan shoving away anyone who tried to help him up.

  Miller wa
s silent as they slid into an Uber. Jo stared at the side of his face, but he kept his gaze trained on his hands in his lap.

  “Mill,” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry,” he said at the same time. “I don’t know what came over me back there—I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry.”

  She reached over and lightly touched his arm. “Is your hand okay?”

  He snorted out a laugh. “Believe it or not, his head is a lot harder than the punching bags.”

  “Oh I definitely believe it.”

  They lapsed back into silence as the Uber turned up the street to the college’s apartment buildings, the AC humming lowly in the background. Jo stared out the window, trying to think of something to say, but the shock was like a barricade in her mind, blocking out everything else. She glanced down at Miller’s hands, and despite the darkness, she could make out a slight tremor in his fingers. She slid across the seat, wrapped her hands around his arm, and rested her head on his shoulder. “Thanks for coming tonight,” she murmured into his sleeve. “I’d been looking for an excuse to leave anyway.”

  He laughed and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Happy to be of service.”

  5

  Freshman Year - September

  Johanna spun around in front of the mirror in a strapless bra and high-waisted jeans, her hair piled into a messy topknot. She raised two shirts, holding each to her body briefly. “Which one?”

  Kayleigh squinted down at her from her lofted bed. “I vote the lacy black tank. You could just tuck in the front—very classy. It’s in all the fashion blogs right now.”

  “Miller?” Johanna spun to face his chair in the corner, where he was pointedly not looking at her. “Which shirt?”

  “Either one as long as you put one on.”

  “You’re no help,” she muttered as she slipped Kayleigh’s choice over her head. After quickly applying a coat of lip gloss, she turned away from the mirror, refusing to allow herself any more time. The more time she spent in front of the mirror, the more she cared about this date. And the more she cared, the more nervous she’d be.

  “You look perfect,” said Kayleigh. Well, that’s what Jo thought she said. Her words were entirely drowned out by the shrieks of laughter coming from Addie and Liv’s room, something that was quickly becoming the ever-present background track in their suite.

  “Are you dressed yet?” asked Miller, a hand full-on covering his eyes now.

  “Yes, Miller, I’m decent.”

  He lowered his hand, did a quick appraisal of her outfit, and nodded.

  “That’s all I get?” Jo demanded.

  Miller threw his hands up. “You already know you look hot. You don’t need me to tell you.”

  Kayleigh climbed to the other end of her bed and glanced out the window as Jo searched the ground for the right pair of shoes. Grey hadn’t told her what they’d be doing tonight, so she didn’t know if flats or heels were the way to go. She settled on a pair of strappy wedges and balanced herself on Miller’s shoulder as she did the clasps. He sighed as if this were a major inconvenience.

  “What the hell?” said Kayleigh. “Jo, I—I think your ride is here.”

  Jo shuffled over to peek out the window and let out a small gasp. A gigantic bus was parked outside their dorm, practically blocking the entire street. UNITED FATES was plastered across the side in thick, red letters.

  “Subtle,” she muttered.

  Miller appeared at her side and craned his neck to see. “Is he planning to kidnap you and take you on tour?”

  The door to the bus swung open and Grey stepped out on the sidewalk in black jeans, a black T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. Johanna would be rolling her eyes at the whole cliché of it all if it didn’t look so damn good on him. He glanced both ways down the street, then tilted his head back to take in the building.

  “Get away from the window!” Jo shrilled, grabbing Miller’s sleeve and pulling him down. They tripped over each other, landing in a tangle of limbs on the floor, as Kayleigh laughed at them from the bed. Jo splayed out on her back and stared at the ceiling for a second. “Is this a dumb idea?” she asked to no one in particular.

  Miller settled in beside her and jabbed her lightly with his elbow. “Go have fun tonight. Worse comes to worse, you hate it, you call us, and we come pick you up.”

  She turned her head to look at him. He stared back at her with raised eyebrows. “He can’t get in the building,” he reminded her. “You’re gonna have to go downstairs.”

  “Fuck.” She looked back to the ceiling as her phone buzzed in her pocket—probably Grey letting her know he was here.

  “It’ll be fun!” Kayleigh assured her. “And he’s really hot.”

  “Right.” Jo climbed to her feet, brushed off her jeans, and checked her hair one final time in the mirror. She looked her reflection in the eye and whispered, “It’ll be fun.”

  Grey beamed as Johanna stepped onto the sidewalk and headed toward him. He was clean-shaven tonight, his hair purposefully disheveled and brushed up in the front. Her chest tightened to an almost painful degree, but she couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause. Nerves? Excitement? Anticipation? Whatever it was, she hoped it didn’t show on her face and tried to brush it off as she asked, “Did your car break down or something?”

  He held out a hand, still smiling. She hesitated, very much aware of the people gawking at them from across the street, but she took it. He led her up the stairs with a hand braced on her lower back. It was larger inside than she’d first thought. There was a black leather couch on one side and a full bar on the other. Two TVs hung high on the walls, along with various light fixtures that reflected off the surrounding glossy surfaces. Grey led her down the aisle to a small table and two black leather booths.

  “The bus is new,” he explained. “We’re going on tour later this year, and I’ve been looking for an excuse to take it out.”

  “So, I’m the excuse?” she asked.

  “An excuse who looks absolutely stunning tonight, I may add. Come on, I’ll give you the full tour.” He led her farther back, still holding on to her hand, pointing to things and explaining as he went. Past the table, there was a sliding door that opened up to the sleeping quarters. Two sets of bunk beds lined the walls, and in the very back, an enormous king-size bed swallowed the rest of the space. Cabinets were nestled basically anywhere they could fit for more storage—under the beds, above the beds, tucked into corners. The same kind of lights that were on the floors of a movie theater snaked around the roof of the bus and framed the windows.

  Jo dropped his hand and gestured around them. “So is the bus the destination, or is the bus taking us somewhere?”

  Half of Grey’s mouth curved into a smile as he twisted some knobs in the wall. Light jazz music poured into the small space, and Johanna couldn’t stop herself from laughing.

  “Not a fan of jazz?” asked Grey.

  “No, it’s not that.” Jo plopped down on the couch. “It’s just, let me guess. Next you’re going to dim the lights.”

  “Well, we do have some great mood lighting in here.”

  “I noticed.”

  Grey paced back to the front of the bus and knocked on the wall. “We’re all good in here, Chuck!” he called.

  The bus rumbled to life, and Jo lurched forward as it pulled away from the curb. Grey took a place on the couch a respectful distance away, leaned his head back against the window, and closed his eyes. “How can you not like jazz?” he murmured. “Brilliant stuff.”

  Lights from the street flickered across his face as they drove, highlighting the stubble along his jaw, the angles of his cheekbones, the long column of his throat. His sweeping eyelashes looked even longer than usual against his cheeks, and there was a softness to his features she hadn’t seen before.

  Johanna realized she was staring and quickly looked away before he could open his eyes and notice too.

  “I never said I don’t like jazz,” she said.

  Grey�
��s eyes flickered open, and he leaned his head to the side to look at her. “So, what do you think of the bus? I imagine it’s about the same amount of space as a freshman dorm.” Jo narrowed her eyes, and a bemused smile rose to his lips. “I may have Facebook stalked you,” he explained. “I’ll have you know, fake IDs are illegal in the great state of Oregon.”

  Jo snorted. “I think they’re illegal anywhere. Are you secretly taking me to the police station?”

  “Quite the contrary. If you hadn’t showed up in that bar, we never would’ve met. And what a shame that would’ve been.”

  She met his gaze, and the intensity behind his eyes made her cheeks flush with heat. She turned to look back outside. “You’re still not telling me where we’re going?”

  He closed his eyes and settled against the window. “Why would I want to ruin the surprise?”

  “Can I have a hint?”

  That same damn smile returned. “You’re quite the impatient one, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t think it’s an unreasonable question.”

  “Unreasonable? No.” One eye opened. “But I’m still not going to tell you.”

  Johanna let out a long, dramatic sigh, leaned back on the couch, and propped her feet in Grey’s lap. “Fine. I suppose you can just wake me up when we’re there, then.”

  He had the kind of laugh that could fill a room—throaty and deep. He wrapped his hands around her ankles and gave them a gentle squeeze. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine, Johanna.”

  The bus took them straight past the city and down a backroad she hadn’t even known was there. The leaves were already starting to shift into fall, framing their drive with gold and red on either side. She’d been trailing the setting sun through the window when a wooden sign popped up on their left, too fast for her to read the name of the campsite before they turned onto a dirt road.

  “You’re not seriously taking me camping, are you?” she demanded.

  “I don’t think either of us look like the camping type.”

  Several over vehicles and camper vans swam into view as the bus continued toward the edge of a cliff. It pulled off into the only remaining parking spot in the lot.