The Anti-Relationship Year

by Katie Wismer

  Miller grunted and slid back a step against Jo’s punches, but now her vision was tinted red, and she didn’t think she could stop even if she wanted to. Her knuckles ached with each blow against the pad, but that only made her want to punch harder. The pain flared up her wrist, her forearm, her bicep. It was mesmerizing, in a way, to feel the pain somewhere else for a change.

  “Jo—”

  At some point she must have started crying. She could feel the hot tears on her cheeks now, but her entire body felt numb, detached. The pain was grounding. The pain was all that was left.

  “Then to have the nerve to come here,” she growled. “He probably didn’t even notice it. Probably doesn’t even remember that I’m here. Probably doesn’t even remember me at all—”

  “Jo—” Miller dodged to the side, dropped his pads, and caught her before she could pitch forward as her fist caught air. Her feet tangled with his, and then they were both falling. His hands clamped around her forearms, and her breath caught in her throat as Miller hit the floor on his back and she collapsed on top of him. She felt his breath leave his body as she struggled to catch her own. The tears were freely streaming down her face now, and she hiccuped as Miller’s hand came up to cup the back of her head, holding her against his chest. She fisted her hands in his shirt, the sound of his labored breath filling her head.

  They laid there like that until both of their breathing returned to normal, and Jo’s fingers started to cramp around his shirt.

  She pushed up onto her elbows to look at him. He stared back at her, blue eyes wide, lips slightly parted.

  “Can we go watch shitty scary movies and get drunk now?” she asked.

  He laughed quietly. “Absolutely.”

  “Did you pick a movie yet?” Jo called from the bathroom. She leaned over the counter and twisted her mouth down so she could finish applying the face mask around her nose. When she was done, she rinsed the last of the paste from her fingers and adjusted the thick, pink headband so none of it would get in her hair.

  As she headed back to her room, the door to the suite opened, and Liv and Addie swept in, arms full of shiny new shopping bags.

  “Oh,” said Addie. “Hi, Jo.”

  “Nice face mask,” added Liv.

  The two shared a look, erupted in a fit of giggles, and quickly disappeared into their room, closing the door behind them.

  Jo let out a slow breath through her nose. She wasn’t going to let them get to her today. She’d stopped bothering trying to be friends with them months ago when she realized they were never going to stop making her the punchline to their jokes—disguised under fake smiles and compliments, of course.

  “Are you thinking a rewatch or something new?” called Miller. His eyes went wide as she stepped around the corner. “What is on your face?”

  Jo scooped the bottle of wine off the dresser as she passed and shrugged. “It’s charcoal. It cleans your pores.”

  Miller was sprawled out on her bed, head propped up on her pillows, scrolling through the movies on her TV. He tossed the remote aside and sat up. “You look like you just fell into a mud pit.”

  “Are you jealous? Do you want one too?”

  “Hell yeah, I want one!”

  She tossed him a baby blue headband. “You’re gonna have to put that on.”

  When she stepped back into the bedroom, bottle of face mask in hand, Miller was perched on the edge of the bed, his wavy brown hair sticking straight up with the headband. Jo pressed her lips together to keep from laughing and stood in front of him.

  “Close your eyes.”

  He complied, and she smeared the paste on his forehead.

  “It’s cold,” he complained.

  “Beauty is pain.”

  He squinted a single eye open. “How long does it have to stay on?”

  “Would you quit talking! If you keep moving, it’s gonna end up in your mouth.”

  “There’s a dirty joke in there somewhere,” Miller muttered as she moved on to applying the mask to his nose.

  “It usually dries in about ten to fifteen minutes. When it’s hard and you can barely move your face, that’s when you wash it off.” She pulled away and flipped the cap shut with a satisfying snap.

  Miller opened his eyes and grinned. “How do I look?”

  “Like you just fell in a mud pit,” she said flatly.

  “But I pull it off, right?”

  Before Jo could respond, Addie and Liv started blaring music next door, the volume so loud it made their shared wall vibrate. Miller’s head whipped around as the lyrics to “Johanna” echoed through the suite. Jo sighed and set the bottle on her desk. Whatever Miller saw on her face made his features harden, wrinkling the face mask, and he jumped up from the bed.

  “Don’t.” She grabbed his wrist before he could storm from the room. “Don’t say anything. That’s just what they want.”

  He looked at her incredulously. “They do this often?”

  Jo gritted her teeth, picked the remote back up to shift through the movies, and focused on the screen. It happened so often it probably shouldn’t have affected her anymore, but each time those lyrics played, it was like hearing them for the first time all over again. Nausea immediately twisted her stomach, bringing her right back to the night in that empty apartment, to laying on that cold bed in the doctor’s office.

  The song cut off midway, replaced with Liv and Addie’s laughter as they stumbled back out of their room and into the hall, slamming the door to the suite shut behind them.

  “Seriously, what is wrong with them?” Miller demanded.

  “They think they’re funny,” Jo said flatly, then glanced at Miller’s phone as it buzzed against the bed, a Snapchat notification from Alice flashing across the screen.

  Jo raised her eyebrows, as much as she could among the hardening face mask, grateful for the change in subject. “Oooooh, who’s Alice? Does she go here?” Jo grabbed the phone and held it out to him.

  Miller stared at her for a moment, but seeming to sense she didn’t want to talk about it, he let the subject drop. Jo glanced over his shoulder as he opened the snapchat. A girl’s face flashed on the screen—chubby cheeks, freckles, braces. She looked about ten years old. “My kid sister,” Miller explained.

  “What?” Jo squinted at the picture before it disappeared, trying to find the resemblance. It wasn’t immediately apparent like it was with some siblings, but if you knew where to look, it was there. The dark hair, obviously. And they both had defined jaw lines. The eyes were what really gave it away though—dark blue and enviably big. “How did I not even know you had a sister?”

  “It’s not like you’ve been super forthcoming about your family, either.” Miller held up the phone so they could both fit in the picture, him with his tongue stuck out and Jo with her still-grubby fingers from the face mask up in a peace sign.

  “You have any secret siblings I should know about?” Miller asked.

  “Nope. I’m the one and only.” She paused in the bathroom, staring at her reflection, the echoes of the song still lingering in her head. She’d be lying to herself if she said the disappointment didn’t hurt just as much. Not just with what happened with Grey, but Addie and Liv too. She’d spent the first few months here so hopeful, so optimistic and surrounded by possibilities—a new boy, new friends. And yet, somehow, it had all managed to go up in smoke before she’d even realized anything was burning.

  Miller, however, was a happy surprise. At least she had that much.

  She returned to the room and flopped onto the bed on her stomach. Miller leaned over to pour the two glasses of wine on her desk and handed one to her. She propped her feet in his lap as they settled in, Miller poking a finger against his cheek to test the face mask.

  “I can’t move my forehead,” he said.

  “That means it’s working.”

  “Can I ask you a serious question?”

  Jo glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “I absolutely cannot take yo
u seriously like this, but go ahead.”

  “What are your parents like?”

  Jo leaned her head back and swirled the wine around in her glass. The only word she could think to describe them was: “Busy.”

  Miller looked at her. “Busy?”

  She shrugged and tried to take a sip of wine, even though her mouth was at ten percent function now. “My dad’s a pilot, and my mom’s a flight attendant, so they travel a lot. They have my whole life. They’ve just never really been…around much.”

  “I’m sorry,” Miller said after a beat.

  “Sorry?”

  He shrugged. “It just sounds…lonely, I guess.”

  Jo cleared her throat and set her wine back on the nightstand. “I’m gonna go rinse this off.” She gestured to her face mask and headed for the bathroom. “Yours looks about ready, too.”

  She splashed warm water on her face until she could move her muscles again.

  “Hurry up!” Miller called. “I’m gonna start the movie!”

  Jo padded a towel against her neck and headed back into the bedroom. “You are mighty impatient tonight.”

  Miller snorted. “Since when do you say mighty?”

  Jo waved a finger toward him. “You planning on keeping that on all night?”

  He tossed her the remote as the opening music started to play, and disappeared into the bathroom. Jo snuggled into her side of the bed, holding her glass of wine to her chest, when Miller’s phone buzzed again. Jo scooped it off the blankets.

  “Alice responded!”

  Miller reappeared and plopped onto the bed hard enough that Jo nearly spilled her wine. “What’d she say?”

  Jo opened the snapchat so they could both see the screen. Alice’s face reappeared so close to the camera it cut off her chin and forehead. A line of text slashed across her face like a mustache. She’s pretty. You should date her.

  Jo snorted and tossed Miller the phone. “She should see me without the mud-face.”

  Miller turned the phone toward Jo and snapped another picture, his fingers flying across the screen as he typed.

  “What are you saying?” Jo demanded. By the time she leaned over to see the screen, he’d already sent the reply. “You didn’t even let me see the picture. Rude.”

  Miller shrugged innocently and leaned back against the pillows. “Are you actually going to watch the movie, or are you going to ask me what’s happening ten minutes in?”

  Jo huffed and burrowed farther under the blankets. “Probably both,” she muttered.

  16

  Senior Year - March

  Jo squinted against the light peeking through the cracks in her curtains. Usually she was better at remembering to close those before she went to bed. She yawned, rolled onto her back, and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Judging by the intensity of the light coming through the window, it was late morning. A boneless, contented warmth filled her body as she stretched, and she laid there smiling at the ceiling for a few seconds, still halfway in a dream state. She hadn’t slept that well in a long time. She rolled over and ran a hand over the empty sheets beside her.

  Reality washed over her like ice water, and the night before crashed into her with so much intensity, it momentarily stole her breath.

  Oh, God.

  Oh, God.

  She shoved herself into a sitting position, her breaths coming in hard and fast. Now that the images of last night had started playing in her head, she couldn’t get them to stop. Miller’s hand twisting with hers against the sheets, his teeth grazing her shoulder, his breath in her ear, the feel of his back muscles moving beneath her hands—

  She swallowed hard against the feeling rising in her throat, her entire body trembling now.

  Miller’s clothes were no longer on the floor, and the bedroom door was shut.

  The tightness in the back of her throat spread, more images ramming into her mind on a never-ending loop. Looking down at him with her hands pressed to his chest, her name sounding so differently in his voice when it was rough and breathless. Unbidden, another image shoved its way into her brain, a night she thought she’d pushed from her memory all together.

  Sitting in that empty apartment, sheets pressed to her chest, staring at the door after Grey had left.

  She threw the covers back and stalked over to the closet, pulling out a band T-shirt and a pair of jean shorts. Her hands shook as she stepped over her dress at the foot of the bed and leaned down to look in the mirror over her dresser. Mascara was smeared beneath one eye, but other than that, she actually looked better than she did most mornings. She stared at her reflection, and the eyes that looked back at her were glassy, unfocused. Her lips were a little swollen, and there was the trace of a hickey near her collarbone.

  What had she done?

  And the question she didn’t even want to let form.

  Why wasn’t he here?

  Probably because he’d woken up and felt exactly what she was feeling right now.

  Last night felt dreamy, distant. The logic and common sense abiding by another set of rules. But everything always looked different in the morning.

  This never should’ve happened. How did this happen? Miller was…Miller. Her best friend. She couldn’t lose that over this. She couldn’t.

  Her phone dinged on the dresser. A text from Gracie appeared.

  Sorry, I might be running a bit late. I just finished packing up all the supplies. Be there soon!

  Her eyes darted to the date, then the time.

  “Shit.”

  She yanked the bedroom door open—the only thing that would make her feel better right now was a very large, very strong cup of coffee. And now she was going to have to drink it on the go. The second she stepped into the hallway, her front door opened.

  She froze as Miller ducked through the door, his shoulders dark with rain. He was in a gray sweatshirt and black shorts, so he must have gone downstairs to change at some point. He glanced up and noticed her staring at him and smiled, raising two cups of coffee and a small, brown paper bag. “I noticed you were out of coffee, so I ran down the street. Sorry, I was hoping I could slip back in before you woke up.”

  She didn’t—couldn’t—respond.

  He came back.

  And he was…smiling.

  “Hey.” He kicked the door shut behind him and paced into the kitchen, shooting a second, searching glance in her direction. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Yeah. Of course.” She cleared her throat and dropped her gaze. “That coffee smells really good, but I actually have to go.”

  “Go?” he repeated.

  She hurried over to the entryway and slipped on the first pair of shoes she could find, then wrestled around in the coat closet for her camera equipment. “I have a shoot this morning. I completely forgot. Gracie is tagging along for mentoring too…” She yanked the last of her equipment out of the closet and threw the bag over her shoulder. “And I’m supposed to meet her in…” She glanced down at her watch. “Fuck. Five minutes.”

  “Oh, shit.” He held the coffee toward her. “You want me to give you a ride?”

  “No, no,” she insisted, her voice coming out way too high as she accepted the coffee. “I’ve got it.” She paused by the door, slightly out of breath. “I’m really sorry to run out like this, but I really have to...” She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. “But you should”—she waved her arm around, not quite sure what she gesturing to—“stay…and…eat that…and…I’ll see you later?”

  He leaned back against the counter, his expression unreadable. “No, it’s cool. Go ahead.”

  “Cool,” she repeated, then turned and all but ran from the apartment. The second the door closed between them, she collapsed against it, panting and trying to catch her breath.

  “Could you have made that any more fucking weird?” she muttered to herself.

  Her phone dinged with another message from Gracie.

  Almost there!

  “Fuck.” She readjusted the bag on her s
houlder and hurried off down the hall, making it all the way to her car before she realized she hadn’t even remembered to put on a bra.

  On the bright side, the rain finally let up as Jo pulled her car into campus, the sun coming down prettily through the parting clouds and glimmering off the wet sidewalks. It wasn’t the ideal day for photos, but she didn’t have any room left in her calendar to reschedule the shoot, so if the girls wanted the pictures, it had to be today. Not that she would mind if these particular clients decided to cancel.

  Gracie momentarily blocked out the sun from Jo’s vantage point on the ground as she trekked toward her from the opposite direction, carrying a duffle bag half her size.

  “I think this is everything!” she called.

  Jo finally chose which lens she wanted to start with and attached it to her camera. She felt better now with it in her hands—something familiar, concrete. It wouldn’t be enough to erase or forget what had happened last night, but it might be enough to distract her for a while. “Careful with that!” she called.

  Gracie was out of breath by the time she reached her, and she gingerly set the bag in the grass. Glass clanged around on the inside. Gracie set her hands on her hips, her curly blonde hair in a tight ponytail today. In fact, her entire ensemble looked like she was prepared for manual labor—running shorts, tennis shoes, an old T-shirt with paint stains.

  Jo checked the time on her phone and slipped a freshly charged battery into her camera. “Thanks again for doing this, Gracie. It’s going to be a lot to juggle today.”

  Gracie perked up. “Thanks for letting me! Should I start getting the stuff out?” She jabbed her thumb toward the monstrous bag.

  Jo nodded, checking the note on her phone again. “Amber is first, and I think she wants the confetti, a champagne bottle, and she’s bringing a few other things with her.”

  Gracie nodded and knelt to dig through the bag until she found the right props. “How many girls are we doing today?” she asked.

  “Five,” said Jo. “They’re all sorority sisters, so they wanted a couple of shots together, but we’re going to start with the one-on-ones, just in case we run out of time. Oh, also, get out the message board. I think all of them wanted to use it.”