The Anti-Relationship Year

by Katie Wismer

  “I won’t be offended if you ditch me too,” she told Felix.

  “Nah, you’re my date. And I don’t mind. I think it’s kind of cool.”

  Jo glanced around the lobby—rounded with bright red decorations and twinkly lights. The overhang from the floors above were visible if you craned your neck back, and they all appeared to be just as busy as the first floor. She eyed the small bar by the coat check, wishing she could grab something despite the lingering heat in her stomach from downing a bunch of shots at the pregame. “We can go floor by floor,” she finally said. “And work our way up?”

  Felix gestured for her to lead the way. “You’re the boss.”

  Jo started with shots of the building itself, making sure to catch the decorations and colorful lanterns along the ceiling. The moment people saw the camera, they transformed—posing, smiling, and in one case, hiding the flask they’d been trying to sneak a sip from.

  Groups hurried past them, all donning suits and sparkling gowns, the majority of which were floor-length. Jo glanced down at her own dress, thankful she’d decided on the mid-calf one instead of the mid-thigh. Even the professors mingling about were fully decked out, sipping champagne and laughing with each other. Felix followed her around dutifully as she grabbed some pictures of people entering, a full-room shot, and one angled toward the domed roof to show the strings of lights around the railing on each floor’s overhang.

  They did the same thing on the second floor, which had a much darker color scheme than the first. This one was all blacks, purples, and whites. A projector was set up in the corner to cast a galaxy of stars on the ceiling. In the center of the room, there was a large booth where a woman was reading palms and telling fortunes. Jo grabbed a few shots as a couple sat down for a reading.

  She was about to turn and carry on when Felix caught her wrist and nodded at the now-open seats. “Come on. I want to know what my future holds.”

  The woman flashed a yellow-toothed smile at them as they sank into the seats, then aggressively shuffled the cards over the table. Felix waved for Jo to hand over the camera. She narrowed her eyes at him, but obliged, and he stood so he could get a good shot of Jo as the woman laid her cards out on the table.

  “Oh dear,” murmured the woman.

  Jo resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Let me guess. Untimely death? I’ve been cursed?”

  Felix snorted as he fell back into the seat beside her and squinted at the three cards in front of them. Jo had no idea how to read these things, but none of them looked pleasant.

  “This here is the ten of swords.” The woman pushed the first card toward her. A man was splayed out with the swords protruding from his back, the red paint dripping to the edges of the card like blood. “Could mean an unwelcome surprise is coming to you. Or, maybe something bad has already happened. You’ve been backstabbed, so to speak, by someone you cared for.” Her eyes flicked up to gauge Jo’s reaction. Jo swallowed hard and tried not to let it show on her face, despite the violent drop of her stomach and the heat rising into her cheeks.

  “Next, we have death.” She tapped the next card, where a skeleton figure cloaked in black sat on a horse.

  “So it is an untimely death then,” Jo quipped, though her voice came out flat.

  “Most people take this card far too literally,” the woman explained. “This could just mean you’re nearing the ending of a major phase of your life. If you resist these necessary endings, it oftentimes just causes more pain.”

  Jo glanced at Felix out of the corner of her eye, and he shrugged.

  “This is what I find the most interesting,” mused the woman. “Your final card is the tower.”

  Jo frowned down at the image—there was a tower in the center, but more strikingly was the way it was up in flames and bodies were falling out the sides.

  “The tower can represent many things. Usually something shocking is going to happen, something out of the blue, that shakes up your status quo.”

  “So let me get this straight.” Jo pointed to the cards and glanced at the woman, silently asking permission. The woman spread her hands wide and leaned back in her chair, her head cocked to the side as if she were studying Jo. Jo slid the cards closer and tapped the first one. “Something bad already happened to me.” She pointed to the second. “Whatever is happening in my life now is coming to an end. And finally.” She picked up the third card between two fingers. “My entire world is now going to be turned upside down.”

  The woman nodded solemnly, and the gold beads on her headdress jangled together.

  “All right. Cool.” Jo patted the table with both hands and stood.

  “Sorry about that,” Felix muttered under his breath as he hurried after her. “I thought that would be a lot more…lighthearted.”

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “Could’ve been worse, I guess. She could’ve told me I was going to die.”

  He snorted. “I suppose you’re right.”

  The music grew louder as they climbed the stairs to the top floor, where the band was clearly already in full swing. Spotlights swept across the dance floor full of gyrating bodies. Small bar tables lined the periphery of the room, with a buffet and bar set up in the back.

  Jo caught sight of a familiar dark head above the masses in the center of the dance floor, the lights glowing around his profile. Miller bobbed around less than enthusiastically as Shay shimmied against him and grabbed his hands, sliding them along her body as she moved.

  Felix let out a small snort beside her. “I’ve seen weirder couples, I guess.”

  Jo smirked and brought the camera to her eye to take a few shots of some nearby dancers. Once she was satisfied, she pivoted, zoomed in on Miller’s grimacing face, and snapped a quick picture. “He’s awkward as ever.”

  She continued to scan the room and froze with her lens trained on a group of girls in the corner. Kayleigh had her head thrown back in a laugh, her blonde curls pinned to the top of her head. She clung to Liv’s arm to keep upright as Addie was talking. Jo quickly lowered her camera, the conversation she’d overheard resurfacing in her head. The mocking tone of their voices, twisting her name into something ugly. The way even Kayleigh had joined in. Addie and Liv—she could’ve expected as much. But with Kayleigh, sure, Jo wasn’t always the easiest person to be around, and she knew she wasn’t the most drama-free roommate, but they’d had good times together. At least, she’d thought they had.

  “Think you’ve earned a break yet?” Felix jutted his chin toward the dance floor.

  The song shifted, and Jo looked up toward the stage. A familiar face peered back from the center of the spotlight, half of his face tinted purple. When his gaze landed on her, a current of electricity ran from her scalp to the tips of her toes, and she sucked in a shallow breath, already turning toward the exit.

  She’d known he’d be here. Of course she had. She’d seen the posters plastered all over campus. The article they’d printed in the paper. But still. The idea of it and being in the same room as him again were two very, very different things. The vodka threatened to make a reappearance as she stumbled back a step. Suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the room—there wasn’t enough air in the world. And there certainly wasn’t enough space between her and Grey.

  She took another step back and ran into someone. “Sorry.” She turned and came face to face with Rodney, their newspaper editor. He grinned at her, a petite brunette girl in a red, floor-length dress on his arm.

  “Jo! Glad I ran into you. Would you mind heading up near the stage and grabbing some close-ups of the band? But then you two should go have fun!” He clapped Jo and Felix on the back, then disappeared onto the dance floor before Jo could respond.

  The very idea made her want to throw up. But Jo’s hands tightened around the camera as she set her jaw. She could do this. Grey held no power over her, and running out of this room was just letting him win. She had a job to do here, and she had every intention of blowing Rodney away with her work from tonig
ht. She shot Felix an apologetic look and ventured closer to the stage. “I’ll be right back,” she said over her shoulder.

  She slipped to the outskirts of the crowd and came up near the side of the stage, squinting into the camera and zooming her lens, trying to get a shot of the band without a million heads in the way. Twisting, she took a few looking out at the crowd with the band in the foreground. The song shifted again, this time to something slower, and when she turned her camera back to the stage, Grey looked directly at her through the lens and smirked. Her stomach flipped so violently, she thought she might be sick right then and there. But she forced herself to take the picture. It was a good one if you didn’t know the story behind it.

  As she lowered her camera and pulled her lens cap out of her bag, Grey said into the microphone, “Thanks, everyone. You’ve been a great crowd! We’re gonna take a quick break and be back in fifteen!”

  Then he turned and headed toward Jo.

  He hopped off the stage and landed directly in front of her before she had the chance to escape. She hadn’t known what to expect if she ever saw him again, given how cold he’d been during their last exchange, but she certainly hadn’t expected him to smile down at her the way he was, as if nothing had changed.

  She stood, frozen, as he laid his hand on her elbow and guided her back, just behind the stage.

  “Glad the paparazzi is finally taking notice of me.”

  She shifted her weight to put more space between them. “I work for the school newspaper.”

  “Well?” He smiled again. “Did you get any good shots of me? Want me to pose for you now?” He tilted his face back and forth, exposing every angle of his profile.

  “I should get back to my date.”

  “Oh! A date! What’s his name?”

  “Grey,” she warned.

  “Another Grey? You certainly have a type, don’t you?”

  She glared at him.

  “What?” He laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “You think a little misunderstanding means we can’t be friends?”

  She stared at him as her brain slowly processed his words. “A misunderstanding?” she whispered.

  “Well, yeah.” He gestured toward her stomach. “Clearly you were mistaken, and that’s quite all right. It happens.”

  Mistaken.

  She stared at him. She stared at him for what felt like a very long time, the blood slowing draining from her face, then turned toward the crowd so he couldn’t see it. So he couldn’t see the nausea threatening to surge up from the pit of her stomach. The anger causing her shaking hands to turn into fists.

  The tears springing to the corners of her eyes.

  Above the crowd, one tall head was turned in her direction. She met Miller’s eyes, just for a second, her vision slightly blurry with tears. She blinked and hurried away from Grey without a word, desperately pushing toward the exit.

  “Johanna!” Grey called after her, but she kept moving. She didn’t know where she was going. All she knew was she had to get out of here.

  Mistaken.

  She wished she could crumple up the word and shove it down his throat until he choked on it.

  She was nearly to the door when someone caught her elbow and pulled her to a stop. She looked up to see Miller staring down at her, his eyebrows pulled together.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. “What did he say?”

  “I’m fine.” She pulled her arm from his grasp, fingers still trembling. “I’m just gonna go home.”

  Miller glanced back toward the stage for a moment. “What happened?”

  “Nothing. I just—I think I went a little overboard at the pregame,” she said, though she’d never felt more sober in her life. “And I already got all of the shots I need for the night.”

  The concerned expression didn’t ease from his face. “You want me to come with you?”

  Shay appeared at his side and threw herself around his arm. “There you are. Oh, hi, Jo!”

  “Hi, Shay,” Jo murmured. She swallowed hard and met Miller’s gaze. “I’m fine. You stay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “You’re leaving?” Shay demanded, then turned to Miller. “You can’t leave. I want to keep dancing.”

  Miller opened his mouth like he wanted to protest, and Jo glanced between the two of them.

  “Stay, really. I’ll just see you guys tomorrow.”

  “Great!” Shay tugged on Miller’s arm. “Let’s go check out the buffet.”

  “Tell Felix I’m sorry,” said Jo.

  “Jo—” Miller called, but she was already out the door.

  18

  Senior Year - March

  Jo stared at the two unanswered texts from Miller waiting on her phone. Nothing pressing—just asking how the shoot went, if it was weird seeing Kayleigh, that he was excited for tonight. She wasn’t ignoring him, per se, but she didn’t know how to respond. Her entire body seized up at the thought.

  Maybe it was from the conversation with Gracie yesterday, or maybe it was something else. They needed to talk about what happened between them—that was inevitable. But the full weight of that was just now crashing into her.

  Pieces of that night kept flashing into her mind unbidden—just fragments and heartbeats. His breath in her ear, his hands in her hair, the heat of his skin. They mingled with the images she was all too familiar with—him sleeping on the floor the night he’d let her sleep in his bed, him rolling his eyes at her from the driver seat when he picked her up from a party, all of the shoulder punches and hugs and touches that hadn’t meant anything—that hadn’t made her feel anything, anything at all.

  How could things be so different so suddenly? She couldn’t make sense of it. No matter how hard she tried to force the pieces to fit together, they just wouldn’t.

  And now that their friendship was stained with the new moments, she didn’t know if the old ones would ever be possible again. Or if she even wanted them to be.

  She sent him a quick, vague text that everything was fine, just so he wouldn’t worry. But the weight of everything unsaid between them was so thick in the back of her throat, she felt like choking on it.

  She stared at the dress she’d set out for tonight—floor-length and gold with a low back and thin straps. She hadn’t decided on the shoes yet, but it could wait. She needed to get out of this damn apartment. Every time she looked at the bed or the wall or the dresser, her mind force-fed her images of what had happened there.

  She still needed to drop off her paperwork and pick up her new ID card from Sandra’s office. If nothing else, it would kill some time and serve as a much-needed distraction.

  She gathered her things, triple-checking the paperwork was in her bag, before slipping out the door and heading down to the lobby. Her footsteps echoed in the empty room, and the door flew open right as she reached it. She stumbled back a step, narrowly avoiding running into the person entering the building.

  “Sorry, sorry,” he said.

  Jo froze at the familiar voice, and when he looked up to meet her gaze, his eyes widened.

  “Jo. Hey.”

  “Hey, Jordan.” She stepped aside so he could pass, willing him to keep walking, but of course, he did no such thing.

  “Hey, I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you.”

  “Oh?” Jo raised her eyebrows. “I was just heading out…”

  “Right, right.” He stepped away from the door so she could pass, but reached out and lightly brushed his fingertips against her elbow. “I just wanted to apologize for how I acted. Especially at the cocktail. I feel really bad. And that whole thing with Miller’s paper—I talked to Wells and got the grade fixed and everything.”

  Jo waved a hand, slightly startled at the mention of the cocktail. With everything else going on, she’d nearly forgotten about it.

  “No, really. I was a dick, and you were never anything but nice to me. The last thing you deserved was another guy treating you like that. I’m sorry.”

  Jo went st
ill, her stomach clenching at his choice of words before her brain quite caught up to why it had unsettled her. “Another?” she asked.

  He shifted his weight, one hand coming to scratch at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I—anyway. Have a good rest of your day, Jo. I’ll see you around.” He turned toward the elevators, but before he went, Jo could’ve sworn his eyes had trailed down to her stomach.

  Jo drove in silence, save for the low hum of the AC in an attempt to counteract the sun beating through her windshield. She gripped the steering wheel until white split across her knuckles.

  Jordan knew. She didn’t know how he knew, but he did. She could feel it. Not just from the way he’d looked at her, but as she went back, analyzing every moment of their interaction, everything he’d said, the way he’d stood—he knew about freshman year.

  But how?

  And why now?

  He’d never looked at her like that before, so he must have learned recently.

  But the only other person who knew what happened was Miller. And she knew Miller. She trusted Miller. And in no stretch of the imagination could she see Miller going around and gossiping about the worst thing that had ever happened to her, not after he’d been there. Not when he’d seen what it had done to her. Not after the other night—

  But then how had Jordan known? She didn’t even know him freshman year. The lines of the road blurred in front of her as her GPS barked off directions that she couldn’t hear over the roar in her ears. Her brain desperately searched for a reasonable explanation.

  The parking lot across from Sandra Simone’s office was nearly full when Jo pulled in. The sun reflected off the buildings as Jo climbed out of her car, sucking in as many deep breaths as she could as if she could cleanse the last hour from her system. She paused on the sidewalk, threw her shoulders back, and strode inside.

  Brenda, the receptionist, smiled at her. “Hi, Jo!”

  “Hey.” She pulled the papers out of her bag. “I’m here to drop these off? And I think I’m supposed to pick something up, too.”