Rhys
Preordination [pree-or-duh-nay shun] n—Fate, but not.
Mormons don’t believe in fate
“You stalking me now?” I ask Supe when I walk out of class Monday morning. I’ve somehow managed to avoid him since the episode with Emmy last weekend, and I didn’t expect him to wait outside my classroom.
“If that’s what it takes to talk to you, then, yeah, I guess I am.”
I continue walking.
“Come on, man. Don’t be like this. We’ve gotta talk it out.”
Slowing my stride, I turn to face him. “I don’t know what to say. I get that you guys didn’t know, but—”
“I’d like to keep seeing her,” Nathan says. “But I wanted to make sure you’re cool with it.”
Nothing good could possibly come from this conversation. I’m not cool with it. I’m not even close to cool with it. I don’t respond.
“Listen,” Nathan continues. “I know you liked her—”
“I don’t like her. I love her.” Present tense. Love. Probably always will. She’ll always be the girl who got away. Or rather ran away.
“Right. Love,” Supe says. “Here’s the thing. I think there’s a reason you guys dated.”
Yeah, we dated because we’re perfect for each other. “And that would be what exactly?”
“So she and I could meet.”
I shove my hands in my pockets to stop from strangling my best friend. “I thought Mormons didn’t believe in fate.”
Supe grunts, then falls in stride beside me. “We don’t, but she’s incredible, man. It feels like I’ve always known her.” He glances sideways at me as if trying to gauge my reaction.
My jaw tenses. “I do not want to hear about you and Emmy.”
“She has a show coming up.”
That’s right. We talked about the visiting choreographer and this semester’s solo briefly on the ride to Los Angeles. “Did she get the solo?” The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them, but I don’t have any pride left to be embarrassed.
Supe grins, though I can’t imagine why. “Come to her show and find out.”
“I don’t think so.”
“She’d love to have you there.”
I pause midstride and face him. “I get what you’re trying to do.”
Supe stops short. “You do?”
“Yes. I do. You want to date her, and you still want to be friends with me. But I can’t pretend I’m cool with you guys being together when I’m not.” And quite frankly, I can’t believe Emmy is already ready to date. Do. Not. Get. It.
“I’m going. You should come with me.”
“So I can what? Watch you make a move on my girl?”
Supe lets out an exasperated groan. “That’s not what I meant. You’re both miserable. Talk it out at the show. Friday night, seven o’clock.”
I jam my thumbs under my backpack straps and brush by him. My shoulder catches his and knocks him off balance.
“Classy, man. Real classy,” Supe says as I stomp up the hill away from him.