At some point, when I was stuffed full of ice cream, marshmallows, coffee, and popcorn, and I’d cried so much that my eyes were practically swollen shut they were so puffy, I snuggled into Lee’s side like he was my favorite oversized teddy bear and I was six years old. We hadn’t shared a bed since we were thirteen—after I’d gotten my first period, it seemed like suddenly it was only the kind of thing little kids did and we weren’t little kids anymore—but Lee didn’t object when I fell asleep against him on the floor, under our mountain of blankets.
We’d heard my dad and brother arrive home, not long after Lee and I had gotten back, and I sent Lee out to talk to them. I’d heard his voice floating through my open door from downstairs as he talked to my dad.
“Elle’s just having a rough day, so we’re watching movies and pigging out on ice cream,” he said, not explaining any further to my dad—but then, it had taken me the entire first Bridget Jones movie to feel like I could tell Lee everything that had happened without breaking down, and when my dad and brother got back, we were only thirty minutes in.
“Sounds more like a slumber party.” Dad had laughed, but no more had been said, and Lee came back upstairs to me, shutting the door.
Now, though, I stirred from sleep when my bedroom door was pushed open, and my brother said, “Hey, Elle, do you— OH MY GOD!”
The door was slammed shut so hard it made the photo frames on my desk rattle and, combined with the noise Brad made barreling downstairs, woke both of us up.
“Dad!” he was yelling. “There’s a boy in Elle’s room! She’s totally gotta be grounded!”
Lee groaned, untangled himself from me, and stretched, his neck cracking. “Ugh, I ache everywhere. I knew I should’ve stolen some of the blankets and slept on your bed instead of on the floor.”
“Sorry.” I yawned, rubbing my eyes.
I heard footsteps up the stairs—my dad, from the sound of it—that came to an abrupt stop outside my door. A pause, then a tentative knock.
“You can come in,” I called, trying to work the stiffness out of my body. “It’s just Lee.”
The door opened, my dad not doing a great job of hiding his confusion. “Oh. I thought you’d gone home last night, Lee.”
There was an edge to my dad’s voice, and the way he looked between us was obviously suspicious—if only a little.
“I thought Brad meant you had Noah up here,” he added.
“Well, that would be something,” Lee said, keeping his tone cheerful and blasé. He hopped to his feet. “Considering they broke up yesterday. Sorry, did I not mention that when I talked to you? I didn’t mean to fall asleep in here, but Elle seemed like she needed a friend.”
“You guys broke up?”
I watched emotions play over my dad’s face. Shock first, then confusion, finally settling on pity.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I really don’t wanna talk about it.” I groaned, burying my head in my hands for a moment.
“At least give me some details. I’m your dad. I need to know these things. Why did he break up with you? Was it the distance—was it too much for you, did he say? Did he meet someone else, or—”
“I broke up with him, Dad.” I was a little offended that he thought Noah must’ve broken up with me, but I didn’t feel like this was the time to point it out. “It just…wasn’t working.”
“Oh. Well.” My dad cleared his throat. “You holding up okay, bud?”
I shrugged.
“Do you want pancakes for breakfast?”
I managed a small smile at that.
Lee stayed for breakfast, and as we sat waiting for the pancakes to cook, he turned his cell back on to check it. I vaguely remembered it ringing last night, and him looking at the screen before sighing and shutting it off.
Now, as it came to life, I saw him wince. Guilt coiled in my own stomach, remembering how hurt and angry Rachel had sounded when he’d left her last night. I’d started to talk to him about it, but he shut me down quickly, so I hadn’t pushed it. I knew how torn he must’ve been between us. It was horrible but honestly, I was glad he’d picked me last night when I’d needed him.
“What’s the damage?”
“Three—no, four—missed calls from her and a couple of texts.”
“What’s she said?”
He clicked at the screen. “ ‘Please call me back when you have five minutes. Hope Elle’s okay’ and”—I watched his face fall—“ ‘I think we need to talk. Please call me tomorrow.’ ”
Ouch.
“She didn’t even put any kisses or anything. Or say goodnight. We always say goodnight.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
It was, because I didn’t have to call him; I could’ve just as easily called Dixon or Cam or Levi. And we both knew that, but Lee smiled at me, not blaming me in the slightest. He understood, and I was so damn grateful.
“What’re you gonna do?” I asked. “Do you want me to talk to her for you?”
“No offense, Elle, but I really don’t think that’s gonna help right now. I guess I’ll buy her some flowers, go over there, beg forgiveness. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”
“You can’t get all your life advice from the chick flicks and rom-coms I make you watch.”
“They’ve served me well enough so far.”
I laughed, for the first time since before the breakup. I shivered thinking about it, before pulling the shutters down in my mind over yesterday afternoon. I didn’t want to think about the breakup, or Noah, or how much more I’d miss him, or that phone call…
My hands clenched into fists.
Stop thinking about it! Stop thinking about him talking to her and hiding things from you. Stop thinking about that photo and how close they looked. Stop picturing them kissing.
I clenched my jaw, squeezing my eyes tight shut like that might block the mental image. It didn’t go away, though. Noah and Amanda. Amanda and Noah. Kissing.
Nothing else could explain that phone call—he was hiding something from me, something Amanda knew enough about that she’d called him while he was with me to see if he’d told me. There had to be something more going on—maybe they had kissed, maybe at that party…I didn’t want to even think about the possibility that it was more concrete than just a hookup and that there was something serious between them. It hurt too much.
I opened my eyes to see Lee looking at me.
“You okay?”
I shook my head.
“You wanna talk about it?”
Part of me did, but right now I couldn’t bear to. I’d told Lee everything I could last night—including every word that I could remember of the phone call I’d overheard. And he hadn’t said much of anything in response. I knew Lee well enough to know that he didn’t want to say anything about it because he shared the same suspicions I did. Maybe he knew a little more about it than he was letting on but didn’t want to hurt me.
If I talked about it now, I had a feeling he’d tell me something I didn’t want to hear.
Then my dad said, “All right! Pancakes are ready!” and I was saved.
Lee went home to change after breakfast, before going to see Rachel (“I probably shouldn’t show up in last night’s clothes, right?”) and I was surprised when he called me only a few minutes after leaving my house.
“He’s gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he’s not here. There’s a note on the kitchen counter—says he has stuff to do back at college so he got an earlier flight back. Shall I break the news to my parents?”
I bit my lip. Had Noah told them already himself? Had he gone back early because he didn’t want to risk bumping in to me again, or was he going back to share the good news with her that now he was a free, single, available guy?
So I said, “Yeah, sure. Someone has to, I guess.”
“Do you want me to tell the guys as well?”
I thought about it; I found I wanted to talk to Levi about it all. I didn’t want him to hear from some group text from Lee or through someone else. “No, it’s okay. I’ll get around to it.”
“Have you told your dad everything?”
“No. He already didn’t like Noah enough because he was dating me,” I said. As if my dad had needed any reason to dislike my boyfriend other than the fact that the guy was dating his only daughter—it didn’t matter that he’d known Noah for almost eighteen years; as long as we were dating, he had his reservations about him. “He doesn’t need any more reason to. It’ll just make Thanksgiving more awkward than it already will be. Let me know how things go with Rachel, yeah? Tell her I’m sorry.”
Since yesterday, I’d thought about the repercussions—how awkward everything would be now if I went to Lee’s house and Noah was there, and so on. The biggest deal, though, was Thanksgiving. Lee had even been helpful enough to point out last night, “Thanksgiving is gonna be so weird now this year.”
Every year we spent Thanksgiving with the Flynns. My parents didn’t have many siblings, so I only had a small handful of cousins, all on the other side of the country, and we only saw each other at the summer family reunion one of my great-aunts held every couple of years. Lee was more like family than any of them were, so it only made sense to have Thanksgiving with the Flynns.
And now, what with the breakup, I was so not looking forward to sitting around the table with my ex after such an intense breakup.
I put it out of my mind, deciding to try and focus on my college application essay for the day instead. I needed to work on it, and I needed some way to channel all this energy without screaming—so once Lee hung up, I sat down at my computer and pulled up the Word document, rereading the three hundred and forty-eight words I’d managed to write earlier in the week. I needed to focus on something that wasn’t my breakup, or Noah, or the state of Lee’s relationship, which I was most definitely responsible for. This was as good as anything.
I did do one more thing before I started work, though—I opened my browser, clicked on the Facebook tab, and changed my profile picture from one of me and Noah at the beach this summer to a picture of me and Lee from our birthday party. Then I changed my relationship status to “single.”