The Anti-Relationship Year

by Katie Wismer

  “Thanks for stopping by.” Jo squeezed Gracie’s shoulder. “You should wander around! I’m sure some people have way more impressive stuff than mine.”

  “I doubt it.” Gracie offered a small wave as she shuffled around the corner. Jo smirked as she watched her little blonde head disappear into the next row of booths. There was something eerily familiar about Gracie, something she couldn’t quite place. Obviously, she’d been on the newspaper staff all year, but it was something more than that.

  She reminded her of Meredith, Jo realized. Her best friend from back home.

  “Johanna!”

  Her head snapped up at the familiar voice, the smile immediately falling from her face. Her parents pushed through the crowd in perfectly coordinated outfits—her father in a navy blue suit, her mother in a white dress with navy accents. Her mom pulled her into a hug, momentarily drowning Jo in her perfume. Her hair was pulled back and styled the way she usually wore it to work—honestly, Jo was half surprised she wasn’t wearing her flight attendant uniform. Her dad pulled her into a side hug next and leaned over to squint at her portfolio, his ever-present pilot’s pin front and center on his suit jacket.

  “These are really good, Johanna!”

  She ignored the surprise in his voice as he moved on to inspect her business cards on the table. Her mother picked up a strand of her wet hair between two fingers, but mercifully, she didn’t say anything.

  “You’ll never believe who just stopped by,” Jo said under her breath, her eyes flicking over their shoulders to make sure Sandra wasn’t nearby to hear.

  “Who?” asked her father.

  “Sandra Simone—I know you probably don’t know who that is. But she’s this amazing, award-winning photographer, and she asked me to come in for an interview tomorrow.”

  Her dad grinned. “That’s my girl. So we’ll go out to dinner tomorrow night to celebrate!”

  “Are you seeing anyone?” her mother asked. “Because if you are, you should bring him to dinner. I’d love to meet him.”

  Jo tried not to let her irritation show. Here she was all excited about an amazing career opportunity, and all her mom wanted to talk about was boys.

  “No,” Jo said flatly.

  Her mom pursed her lips, her eyes drifting to the boy at the booth beside them. She gave him a quick once-over, clearly deeming him not suitable. “You know,” she continued, as her eyes moved on to scan the rest of the room’s prospects. “Once you’re out of college, it’ll be even harder to meet men.” She lowered her voice at the end as if men were a dirty word. “If you don’t find a boyfriend now, it’ll just be harder for you in the long run. And you’re not getting any younger. And you’re so beautiful—don’t let that go to waste.”

  “Mom,” Jo warned.

  Her mom shrugged innocently and glanced from Jo to her husband. “I don’t think it’s unreasonable for your mother to worry about your future happiness.”

  “Anyway.” Jo cleared her throat. “What do you think of my portfolio? I’m still hoping to add a few more shots before I graduate.”

  “Your pictures have always been good, Johanna, we know that,” her mother said, apparently exasperated by the subject, and Jo glanced around the room for an out. She met Miller’s gaze across the room and widened her eyes in a desperate help me plea before turning back to her parents. She didn’t want to have this conversation—not ever, but especially not now. But she was trapped at her station, and mortifyingly, judging by the amused curve of the lips of the boy beside her, he was overhearing everything.

  “Have you thought of online dating?” her mother continued. “I know it’s not ideal, but apparently it’s what all of the kids are doing these days—”

  “There you are.” Someone appeared on Jo’s right, but she didn’t have a chance to look before his head swerved around and pressed his lips to hers. She froze, momentarily stunned, but then a wave of his scent rushed over her.

  Miller.

  His lips lingered on hers for a beat, his warm hand cupping the side of her face. Heat slowly crept down her spine as she leaned into him and pressed a single hand against his chest. When he pulled away, he hesitated a few inches from her face, eyes locking with hers in a silent question. She nodded slightly as he pulled back the rest of the way and faced her parents, feigning surprise at their presence.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m Miller, Jo’s boyfriend.” He extended his hand to her mother first, who was beaming so wide, she looked like she might explode. Her father, on the other hand, looked less than pleased, but he shook Miller’s hand when he offered it. “Have you had a chance to look at Jo’s portfolio yet?” Miller asked. “It’s the best one here by far.”

  Her father’s expression softened at that, and he glanced around the rest of the lobby. “Is one of these yours?” he asked.

  Miller ducked his head and pointed toward the back. “We’re not technically supposed to abandon our posts, but that’s mine over there. Graphic design is only my minor, so this is more of a formality for me than a networking thing like it is for Jo.”

  “What’s your major then?” Jo’s dad asked.

  “I’m a double major—English Lit and Criminal Justice.”

  Jo’s father raised his eyebrows—apparently this was an acceptable answer. Jo’s mom looked about ready to swoon.

  “Anyway, I should get back over there before one of the professors sees me, but it was nice to meet you both.”

  “You should come to dinner with us tomorrow!” Jo’s mom insisted. “After Jo’s interview.”

  Miller turned to her. “Interview?”

  She shrugged, unable to suppress her grin, and flipped the newly acquired business card around her fingers. “I guess Sandra Simone liked my portfolio.”

  A grin of his own stretched across his features, and he subtly offered a fist to pound. “I’d do something more extreme, but I won’t embarrass you by making a scene. At least not until we leave the building.”

  Jo laughed and pushed him toward his station. “Go back to where you’re supposed to be.”

  He did a small bow, but turned to Jo’s mom before leaving. “I’d love to come to dinner.” He paused halfway down the row, met Jo’s eyes over her parents’ heads, and winked.

  “Thank you,” she mouthed when her parents weren’t looking, then braced herself for the flood of questions to follow.

  9

  Freshman Year - October

  “So have you and Grey done it yet?”

  Jo stopped pushing the chicken tenders around on her plate and blinked back to the lunch table in front of her. The roar of the surrounding crowd slowly trickled in, building until her ears buzzed with it. She’d been having a hard time staying present all day, like her brain was refusing to participate in this reality. She didn’t even notice her mind wandering or her vision unfocusing until someone drew her back.

  Kayleigh stared at her expectantly from across the table. Her mascara was slightly smudged from the rain. Jo shot a quick glance at Miller beside her, but he was thumbing through a book, pointedly not listening.

  Jo sighed and gathered her hair into a high ponytail. She and Grey had gotten close to having sex plenty of times—every time she was with him, if she were being honest—but every time, she’d pulled away. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, exactly. But she didn’t know how to tell him it would be her first time, or if she even should. And she couldn’t shake off this feeling that the moment they did it, everything would change between them.

  “Not yet,” she mumbled.

  “Isn’t he going on tour, like, tomorrow?” asked Kayleigh. “It’ll be your last chance for a while.”

  Jo had been pointedly not thinking about that. They’d be gone on tour for months—she wouldn’t even see him again until next semester. She wasn’t just assuming they’d pick up where they left off—she wasn’t that naïve. But still…

  “Just leave her alone,” muttered Miller.

  “If the sex talk bothers you, go si
t with the boys!” Kayleigh pointed across the room to where Foster and Gatsby were sitting with the other fraternity pledges. It looked like they were piling as many condiments on a plate as possible and chanting until one of them ate a spoonful.

  Miller flipped the page. “I’d rather be around people with more than one brain cell, thanks.”

  “So are you going to see him tonight?” asked Kayleigh.

  Jo nodded. “I’m going over to his place to hang out.”

  Kayleigh ooooohed.

  “Not like that.” Jo rolled her eyes. “Other people will be there too. It’s like a going-away party.”

  Miller brought his hand to his chest. “And we weren’t invited?”

  Jo raised her eyebrows. “Do you want to come?”

  “Not if you’re going to be banging Grey in the bathroom!” shrilled Kayleigh, loud enough that the table next to them all turned around to look. Jo stared them down until they looked away.

  “No, really,” said Jo. “You guys should come. You haven’t really gotten to know Grey yet anyway—we can do a pregame and everything.”

  “I’m in,” said Kayleigh. “I’ve been waiting for you to introduce me to his hot band friends.”

  “Miller?” Jo kicked him under the table. “Tell me you’ll come.”

  He closed his book with an audible thunk. “Fine. But you’ll have to get me really drunk first.”

  Grey’s apartment was on the twentieth floor of a high-rise downtown. Despite the hundreds of windows littering the side of the building, Jo had come to recognize exactly which one was his from the street. Today it was full of life, the shades wide open, red lights flashing inside. Car horns blared as their Uber pulled to the side of the street.

  Jo stumbled out first and righted her plaid skirt as Kayleigh and Miller climbed out after her. They were both in jeans, making Jo feel a little out of place next to them in her mesh top and high heels, but Grey liked when she wore skirts. And this was the last night she’d see him for months—something she had to force herself to stop thinking about. She teetered a bit on the sidewalk, the vodka hitting her harder than usual since she’d skipped dinner. It hadn’t been intentional. She hadn’t been able to muster an appetite since that conversation at lunch.

  The doorman nodded as they headed inside and quietly shuffled toward the elevator, trying not to draw any attention. Judging by the stiff set of Miller’s shoulders and the way Kayleigh was practically holding on to him for dear life as they crossed the lobby, Jo wasn’t the only one affected by the pregame.

  Jo led them down Grey’s floor, though the apartment would’ve been easy to find regardless from the music spilling into the hallway. It doubled in volume as someone swung the door open.

  “Oh. It’s you.” Lisa, United Fates’ drummer, stood in the doorway, her hair in two long braids. She looked Jo’s companions up and down, her eyes slightly squinted, as if calculating something.

  “Is Grey here?” Jo finally asked when Lisa didn’t step aside to let them in.

  “Grey!” Lisa called over her shoulder. “Johanna’s here.”

  Jo stiffened, not quite sure what to make of the tone Lisa used when she said her name, but she knew she didn’t like it. A million little doubts fluttered in the back of her mind, urging her to turn around and leave. Maybe he didn’t want her here.

  Maybe she was just making a fool of herself.

  She felt a warm hand on her back.

  “Johanna!” Grey appeared in the doorway, hair sticking straight up, a dark gray T-shirt rumpled and half tucked into his black jeans. “So glad you could make it. And you brought friends! Wait—you two were at the concert!”

  “Kayleigh and Miller,” said Jo.

  Grey nodded and flashed what seemed like a genuine smile. “Welcome! Come on in. We’ve got drinks in the kitchen. And we had snacks in the living room.”

  Heads turned in their direction as they entered, though there were fewer people there than Jo had expected, no more than a dozen. She followed Grey to the kitchen and gratefully accepted a red plastic cup, tipping the contents back without even asking what was in it. She glanced through the cutout above the kitchen island that showed into the living room. Every seat on the couch was occupied, and the room reeked of weed. An ashtray and a few empty chip bowls littered the coffee table.

  Arms snaked around Johanna’s waist and pulled her against a warm chest. Grey’s scent enveloped her as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Kayleigh and Miller lingered in the kitchen door, sipping from their cups and eyeing the crowd in the living room. The contrast between Grey’s friends and hers was more stark than she’d realized. She’d been expecting a lot more people to be here as a buffer, but now she was thinking maybe inviting Kayleigh and Miller hadn’t been smart.

  Another wave of weed hit Jo, and she turned around to see smoke filling the living room.

  “Would you at least open the window?” called Grey. He gave Jo a small squeeze before letting her go and heading to the opposite wall to open the balcony door.

  Jo turned to Kayleigh and Miller and grimaced. “Is this okay? I’m sorry, I thought there would be more people here.”

  “Would you hate us if we, like, went to a coffee shop down the street or something? We’ll wait as long as you want to stay so we can head back together but…” Kayleigh wrapped her arms around herself and pursed her lips.

  But she didn’t want to be here.

  “No, yeah, that’s totally fine.” Jo nodded a few too many times, though a sudden fist of panic squeezed her chest at the thought of them leaving.

  “I think I saw a diner down the street,” Miller offered.

  Jo bit her lip and glanced over at Grey. He was still by the balcony door and grinned when he caught her eye, nodding for her to join him.

  “You stay,” Kayleigh insisted. “It’s your last night with him. And just text us when you want to go home, okay?”

  Miller shifted on his feet, his gaze darting between Jo and Kayleigh. “Unless you don’t want us to leave,” he added. “I don’t want to leave you alone here.”

  “She’s not alone. She’s with Grey,” said Kayleigh.

  This didn’t seem to make Miller feel better in the slightest.

  “You guys go,” said Jo, putting as much certainty in her words as she could muster. “I’ll text you later.”

  No one in the living room so much as looked up as Kayleigh and Miller headed out, nor did they glance at Jo as she squeezed through them to get to Grey on the other side.

  “Come on.” He took her hand and led her onto the balcony. It had a great view of the city, especially at night when the lights made everything glow, but the balcony itself was little more than a narrow slab of concrete with two lawn chairs shoved in the corner. Grey sank into one of them and pulled Jo onto his lap. If he’d noticed Miller and Kayleigh leaving, he didn’t mention it.

  “Sorry about all of them in there,” he murmured instead, his lips resting against her bare shoulder. “They’re friends of Pete’s, mostly. And they’re leaving in a bit to head to a club around the corner.”

  “You’re not going with them?” Jo asked. “Isn’t this supposed to be your going-away party?”

  His hands slid around her waist, and he rested his palms flat against her stomach. “Staying here with you seems like much more fun.”

  She shifted on his lap. Despite the chairs being nestled far enough back in the shadows that no one inside could see them, she was still very much aware of their presence. It was hard not to be with the pulsing music, roaring laughter, and the stench of weed in the air so strong she could feel a coating of it on her tongue. The alcohol burned through her, leaving her limbs loose and light. She sipped whatever was in the red cup, barely able to taste it anymore. Grey traced his fingers along her forearm, the touch featherlight. His chin rested in the small space between her neck and shoulder, scratching the delicate skin there with the stubble on his jaw. They’d been seeing each other for only a few months—logically,
Jo knew this—but still, it had become so easy, him and her. This stance. The familiarity of his smell, the way his skin felt against hers. The certainty that she would hear from him each morning. The rush of serotonin every time his name appeared on her phone.

  She wasn’t sure if she was ready to lose it.

  “What are you thinking about?” he murmured.

  “You leaving,” she admitted.

  His arms tightened around her as his lips brushed the side of her neck. “It’s a short tour,” he murmured.

  “I know.” She tried to keep her voice light, unconcerned, but it still quavered a bit at the end.

  “Here’s an idea.” His teeth scraped along the side of her neck. “Just drop out of school and come with us.”

  She laughed and let her head fall to the side.

  His tongue slowly traced along her throat as his hands slid beneath her shirt. She closed her eyes, breathing in the fresh air of the night, focusing on the heat of his hands against the skin of her stomach. Her heart pounded almost painfully hard against her ribs. Then she realized she could hear it because the music was no longer pulsing out onto the balcony.

  “Your friends left,” she murmured.

  “Mm-hmm.” He nodded against her neck as his fingers slid her skirt farther up her thighs, high enough that he could easily slide his hand underneath. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried this.

  But it was the first time she let him.

  Suddenly all of her nerves from before, the second-guessing, the overthinking—it all just…stopped. Her skin burned, the heat tingling along every nerve and traveling from her toes to the roots of her hair and back again, in part from the alcohol, and partly from the way he was touching her. He started to slide her sleeve down her shoulder, and she stopped him, laying her hand over his.

  “You are not undressing me out here,” she said.