number,” Neve says,
knowing damn well his excuse is bullshit.
“I got an early day tomorrow,” he
tries to squeeze past her. “Good luck with everything.”
“Okay, hang on—” she rests her
hand on his arm, and to her surprise, he actually stops—like he wants to be talked
into talking.
“I just…” Neve struggles to
finesse what she really wants to ask him. “I’m just a little confused.”
“About?”
About why you’re acting like
Dylan is a complete stranger ? “Well—aren’t
you guys best friends?”
“No,” he says firmly. Terminally.
“We’re definitely not that.”
Chapter 7
Calamity
Home
sweet hole . Neve collapses onto her bed,
her arm and leg dangling over the side like a starfish. With her face buried in
her sheets, she kicks off her shoes and relishes the soothing sensation of cool
air on her aching feet. Her entire body is so
sore that it feels like she’s fallen down a flight of stairs.
Months of tedious planning, thirty-six
paintings, stress, sweat, and tears, and she barely managed to break even with
her expenses. Elliot never showed. Her mom’s brief visit was really more of a
critique of Neve’s life choices than actual support. And chatting with Romer just
wound up raising more questions.
For some reason, she keeps
thinking back to four Christmases ago. Back to that gloomy afternoon she was waiting
for Dylan by the escalators of the movie theater, holding two cups of hot chocolate.
A matinee on a snowy day. Perfection .
She remembers spotting Dylan
as he walked past the windows of the lobby, his rosy cheeks peeking from
beneath his navy scarf. And although his mouth was concealed, she remembers him
smiling.
It must’ve been in his
eyes.
And she remembers how as Dylan
reached for the door, a boy suddenly appeared from behind the wall, running
towards him at full speed. And how when he leaped onto Dylan’s back, his
momentum propelled them both onto a pile of snow.
And she remembers beaming
with envy as ‘Ro’— the boy she often heard of, but rarely saw—shoved handfuls
of snow into Dylan’s mouth, their laughter audible even through the thick
windows.
It was little more than a
moment in time, and yet it instantly became one of Neve’s favorite memories.
Because that was the kind of friendship she’d kill for.
Neve finds herself inside the university’s Aquatic Centre,
standing on the higher of two diving boards. The water beneath her is as still
as glass. The humidity is suffocating, and the smell of chlorine is strong
enough to be tasted.
Scanning the vast open space, she tries to pinpoint the
source of dripping water. There’s an eeriness creeping about, but it eludes her
with much finesse.
I thought I was afraid of
heights …
She looks down to find herself fully clothed. But what’s even
more peculiar is that she is clutching a heavy steel anchor.
Makes sense , she
thinks. Without it I would float right back up.
With that thought, Neve steps off the board and plummets
towards her reflection.
Like missing the final step going
down the stairs, Neve kicks awake in her bed. Her heart is pounding, and her skin
is glazed with a thin layer of cold sweat.
She can’t seem to shake the
sensation of falling, so she just lies there and waits for her nerves to calm.
It’s still dark outside, so she
slips her hand under her pillow, grabs her phone, and checks the time.
6:12 a.m.
She groans. It feels blasphemous
to be up so early on a Sunday.
With the exhibition now behind
her, Neve realizes she’s made no concrete plans for the summer—none besides
hanging out with Elliot. And with most of her exhaustion now stripped away,
she’s starting to feel really raw about him.
He didn’t even bother to send her
a quick text. At least then Neve wouldn’t have spent the whole night alternating
between checking her phone and staring out the gallery’s windows.
But worse than being mad at Elliot
is how badly Neve wishes she could just call
knowing damn well his excuse is bullshit.
“I got an early day tomorrow,” he
tries to squeeze past her. “Good luck with everything.”
“Okay, hang on—” she rests her
hand on his arm, and to her surprise, he actually stops—like he wants to be talked
into talking.
“I just…” Neve struggles to
finesse what she really wants to ask him. “I’m just a little confused.”
“About?”
About why you’re acting like
Dylan is a complete stranger ? “Well—aren’t
you guys best friends?”
“No,” he says firmly. Terminally.
“We’re definitely not that.”
Chapter 7
Calamity
Home
sweet hole . Neve collapses onto her bed,
her arm and leg dangling over the side like a starfish. With her face buried in
her sheets, she kicks off her shoes and relishes the soothing sensation of cool
air on her aching feet. Her entire body is so
sore that it feels like she’s fallen down a flight of stairs.
Months of tedious planning, thirty-six
paintings, stress, sweat, and tears, and she barely managed to break even with
her expenses. Elliot never showed. Her mom’s brief visit was really more of a
critique of Neve’s life choices than actual support. And chatting with Romer just
wound up raising more questions.
For some reason, she keeps
thinking back to four Christmases ago. Back to that gloomy afternoon she was waiting
for Dylan by the escalators of the movie theater, holding two cups of hot chocolate.
A matinee on a snowy day. Perfection .
She remembers spotting Dylan
as he walked past the windows of the lobby, his rosy cheeks peeking from
beneath his navy scarf. And although his mouth was concealed, she remembers him
smiling.
It must’ve been in his
eyes.
And she remembers how as Dylan
reached for the door, a boy suddenly appeared from behind the wall, running
towards him at full speed. And how when he leaped onto Dylan’s back, his
momentum propelled them both onto a pile of snow.
And she remembers beaming
with envy as ‘Ro’— the boy she often heard of, but rarely saw—shoved handfuls
of snow into Dylan’s mouth, their laughter audible even through the thick
windows.
It was little more than a
moment in time, and yet it instantly became one of Neve’s favorite memories.
Because that was the kind of friendship she’d kill for.
Neve finds herself inside the university’s Aquatic Centre,
standing on the higher of two diving boards. The water beneath her is as still
as glass. The humidity is suffocating, and the smell of chlorine is strong
enough to be tasted.
Scanning the vast open space, she tries to pinpoint the
source of dripping water. There’s an eeriness creeping about, but it eludes her
with much finesse.
I thought I was afraid of
heights …
She looks down to find herself fully clothed. But what’s even
more peculiar is that she is clutching a heavy steel anchor.
Makes sense , she
thinks. Without it I would float right back up.
With that thought, Neve steps off the board and plummets
towards her reflection.
Like missing the final step going
down the stairs, Neve kicks awake in her bed. Her heart is pounding, and her skin
is glazed with a thin layer of cold sweat.
She can’t seem to shake the
sensation of falling, so she just lies there and waits for her nerves to calm.
It’s still dark outside, so she
slips her hand under her pillow, grabs her phone, and checks the time.
6:12 a.m.
She groans. It feels blasphemous
to be up so early on a Sunday.
With the exhibition now behind
her, Neve realizes she’s made no concrete plans for the summer—none besides
hanging out with Elliot. And with most of her exhaustion now stripped away,
she’s starting to feel really raw about him.
He didn’t even bother to send her
a quick text. At least then Neve wouldn’t have spent the whole night alternating
between checking her phone and staring out the gallery’s windows.
But worse than being mad at Elliot
is how badly Neve wishes she could just call
Similar Books
