Junior Class Trip
I return to my hotel room, eyes burning with tears and shame.
Caleb’s never going to forgive me for hurting his friend. What if it affects his relationship with Max? What if Max is mad at me too? Nick was so understanding about this, it almost would’ve been easier if he’d yelled and ranted. Maybe that means I didn’t break his heart. A broken heart is the worst. How could I do that to someone, after it had been done to me?
I let out a sob.
I send Grace a text: Can we talk?
After a minute of waiting for a response and receiving none, I decide to go look for her. But first, I wipe my eyes using tissues from the bathroom.
My phone beeps. A text from Nick. No hard feelings, okay?
Me: You shouldn’t be so nice to me.
Nick: But we’re friends, right?
Me: Always.
I turn off my phone screen, leave my room, and climb aboard the elevator.
A lot of my classmates left the pool, so now it’s only stragglers. Grace and Ryan are cuddling on a pool chair together, her black hair and his red weaving together like flames. They smile as they talk. She playfully slaps his wrist after he says something that’s most likely inappropriate. Then they join their hands again, intertwining their fingers. He kisses her knuckles.
I watch them, wondering why they haven’t made it official when it’s so clear they belong together. Maybe she’s ready to stop pushing him away.
Which is what Alex has been doing: trying to fix things between us. To fit into my life, to better consider my wants and feelings.
Ever since we first met, we’ve had very little in common. Except the spark. Now I know what matters is the spark. The spark and the mutual respect. Maybe we didn’t have that in the past, but we do now.
“Where’s Alex?” I ask Ryan, startling him. He shifts his weight on the beach chair he’s sharing with Grace.
“In our room. Number 568.”
“Thanks,” I say, then spin on my heels.
“Wait, what’s going on?” Ryan calls out behind me.
“Oh my God,” Grace squeaks.
But I don’t stop for them.
I hop on the elevator, then rapidly push the button for the fifth floor, slapping it several times. C’mon, c’mon, go up already.
The elevator opens.
My feet take off running.
I dart past a clock chiming midnight.
Without hesitation I knock on the door to room 568.
Inside, a loud TV goes silent. Footsteps pad across the floor. The door swings open to reveal a barefoot Alex in a pair of track pants and a white T-shirt. He pulled his long hair back into a half ponytail. I swallow hard.
When he sees me, his eyebrows pop up. And even though I’m wearing a sheer cover-up over my bikini, his big brown eyes don’t leave mine.
“Can we talk?” I ask, and he takes a step back, inviting me in.