20
Thursday
(Thirteen Days Left)
“Is it too much?” I direct my question toward the bathroom, projecting my voice over the sound of running water.
Meg perches on the ledge of my tub, shaving her legs under the steady stream of the faucet. She looks at me through the open door, giving my outfit a once-over. “It’s the perfect amount.”
I took Nora’s advice and decided to show off my assets for Noah’s birthday party tonight. I admire the red corset in my full-length mirror, amazed by how well it pairs with my going-out jeans and red kitten heels.
Tonight will be the first time Finn sees me in something other than my teacher clothes, and I want to make it count.
Once she’s finished shaving, Meg rifles through the contents of her makeup bag, walking toward me when she finds what she’s looking for.
“Here.” She hands me a necklace made up of two twisted chains, one gold and one silver. It’s more of a statement piece than anything I’d typically wear, but if there’s any night to make a statement, it’s this one. I fasten the clasp behind my neck.
“You look hot, Phoebe. Finn won’t be able to resist you.”
I try to suppress my smirk, but it’s hard when I can’t help but agree with Meg. I feel hot. Against all odds, my hair seems to be cooperating. I may have finally found a curly-girl routine on YouTube that works for me, because after spending thirty minutes with my head upside down and my hair in a bowl of ice water, my curls fall in perfect ringlets around my face. My
confidence is at an all-time high, and I just know, deep in my bones, that something big is going to happen tonight.
I feel the need to divert the attention away from myself. “Speaking of irresistible…” I gesture at Meg’s all-black ensemble: black wide-legged jeans, a black tee, and black heeled boots. Her signature look. “Look at you.
Noah’s totally going to ask you out after tonight.”
“We’ve actually already been out. While you were away.” She fiddles with the blanket at the edge of my bed.
My eyebrows shoot upward in surprise. “Like, as in, on a date?”
She nods. “A few dates, actually.”
“A few dates?” I echo. “Why am I just hearing about this?” It’s starting to seem like everyone’s walking on eggshells around me, hiding things.
Do they feel bad for me? Is that what this is?
Well, I don’t want their pity.
And after tonight, there will be nothing to feel sorry for.
Meg cocks her head to the side. “I mentioned it in the group chat.”
She did? I guess I haven’t been paying much attention to our chat recently.
“Plus, I haven’t really gotten the chance to talk to you.” She shrugs.
“You’ve been kind of MIA.”
I look down at my feet.
Maybe Jonathan was right. Maybe I really haven’t been that good of a friend lately.
“Long story short,” she continues, “it’s going well. We’re having a lot of fun.” There’s a sparkle in her eye that I haven’t seen in the past few months.
I do my best to match her energy with a smile, even though I feel terribly guilty about the fact that I dropped the ball on this earlier. I need to do better.
“That’s so amazing, Meg!” The strain of my forced smile makes my cheeks hurt. It is amazing, of course, but I can’t ignore the fact that she and Noah are practically dating and I can’t even get a text from Finn. “Tell me everything once we get in the car.”
We wave goodbye to Jonathan on our way out of the apartment. “You’re sure you don’t want to come?” I ask.
“Positive,” he responds from his spot on the couch as he browses the TV for something to watch. “You two have a girls’ night. I’ll be here when you get back.”
I don’t take the refusal personally. Things have been better between us since he picked me up from the Carl’s Jr. parking lot. Our dynamic is slowly inching back to normal. I can’t fault him for wanting to spend the night in while Meg and I pursue our romantic interests. Besides, after the weird impression he made on Finn at Jeffery’s, maybe it’s for the best that he stays home.
“Our car’s here.” Meg holds up the rideshare app on her phone. “Bye, J!”
She races out the door.
Jonathan looks me up and down slowly, an unreadable expression on his
face. “You look really pretty, Phoebe.”
A warmth spreads across my chest.
I wink at him in response. “Don’t wait up.”
—
My eyes don’t leave Meg as she brings me up to speed on her and Noah.
“We’re taking it slow, but I really like him.” I make sure to nod and offer small interjections (“Wow!” “Oh my god.” “He’s obsessed with you!”) at all the right times. I’m so focused on perfecting my reactions, trying to be a good listener, that I don’t even register we’ve arrived at the boys’ apartment
until Meg lets herself out of the car.
“That was quick,” I marvel.
She smirks. “You guys are practically neighbors.”
This whole time, Finn and I have been sleeping a six-minute drive apart from each other, separated by only a few blocks.
We really should be carpooling to work.
My heels click in rhythm with my heartbeat as Meg and I ascend the stairs to the second level of the duplex. The closer we get to the top, the faster my heart pounds against my red corset. The air is charged with energy, an
invisible sensation that confirms my suspicions: something will happen tonight. From the moment I created my list seventeen days ago, I’ve been consumed by a fever that’s been steadily rising in temperature, and tonight, it’s going to break. Tonight, something is finally going to give.
I’m so sure of it.
The door swings open before Meg gets the chance to knock, as if Noah was waiting on the other side just for her. “Hey!”
“Happy birthday!” She leans in and wraps her arms around his neck. He
kisses her cheek.
How is it so easy for some people?
I take in my surroundings. To my right, a small group sits at a wooden dining room table playing a drinking game with a deck of cards. To my left, the majority of the crowd mingles around a large sectional in the living room.
Two end tables flank the couch, and though they’re littered with beer cans and red Solo cups, the tables themselves are beautiful. In fact, almost all the furniture in the apartment is made out of the same dark, rich wood. There’s even a small bookshelf to match in the corner. I squint, trying to make out the titles on the spines of the books that line the shelves: there are a few travel guides, some historical nonfiction that I recognize from my dad’s Kindle, and a slew of how-to books on woodworking. None of them particularly pique my interest.
“You made it!” a voice calls from behind me. I turn to find Finn, clad in his signature open button-down and white T-shirt. Before I can fully extend my arm in a wave, he sweeps me into a hug. It catches me off guard, and I tense up briefly before relaxing into his arms, returning the hug with a
friendly pat on the back.
“Hi.”
“Thanks for coming.”
“Of course.” I make a sweeping gesture outward. “Your place is so nice.
There’s so much…wood.”
“Finn’s really good with his hands,” Noah chimes in.
It takes a second for his comment to sink in. “You made all of this?” I cast my glance between the tables and the bookshelf. The woodworking
books.
He made all of this.
“I mean, not everything,” he clarifies, casting his eyes downward. “We got the couch off Facebook Marketplace.”
“He’s super talented,” Noah adds. “And humble.”
“Let me introduce you to everyone,” Finn says, deflecting the conversation away from himself and ushering us toward the dining room table. It’s only when I’m face-to-face with a group of five strangers that I realize Meg is no longer at my side. I turn to find her in the same spot we left her in, laughing and batting her eyelashes at something Noah said.
“Guys,” Finn addresses his friends. “This is Phoebe. We work together.”
I offer a small wave. “Hello.” The two girls in the group eye me curiously, both of them dressed in similar baby tees and white sneakers.
Under their scrutinizing gaze, I realize that my outfit is all wrong.
The exposed skin on my chest heats, turning the same obscene shade of red as my corset. I reach inward, searching for a shred of the confidence I had
earlier.
It’s gone.
Feeling wildly out of place, I slip my hands into the pockets of my jeans, digging my nails into my clammy palms and longing for the security of one of my graphic T-shirts.
A baby-faced boy in a Dodgers cap is the first to introduce himself. “Nice to meet you, Phoebe.” He shoots out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Mikey.
What can I get you to drink?”
The girl seated directly next to him rolls her eyes and casts an obvious glare toward her friend. I look at Finn reflexively, but he’s gone. I spot him across the room, talking to another girl in white sneakers.
“Uh, I’m not sure,” I tell Mikey. “What do you have?” I can’t remember the last time I was forced to navigate an unfamiliar social setting like this.
Since college, I’ve always had at least one of my friends by my side when we go out, taking the lead in these types of interactions. But with Meg glued to Noah’s side, I might as well be here alone.
I wish Jonathan was here.
He can talk to anyone. I feel naked without him next to me. And with my chest and toes on display, I might as well be.
“Beer.” Mikey grins.
“Great. I’ll take one beer then, please.”
He nods enthusiastically, springing up from his seat and racing toward what I assume is the kitchen. With him gone, there’s nothing standing between me and the death stares from the Baby Tee Twins. I look to the remaining two boys for a lifeline, but they’re too caught up in watching a sports game on someone’s phone to pay me any mind.
I cannot stand here for however many seconds longer it’ll take for Mikey to come back with that beer.
“Where is the bathroom?” I ask. In perfect synchrony, the girls lift their thumbs over their shoulders, pointing to a narrow hallway at their backs. I bob my head in curt thanks, walking past them and down the hall without a word.
I peek through the open crack of the first door on the left. It’s a bedroom, with blank white walls and an unmade bed piled high with heaps of clothes.
Instinctively, I know this is not Finn’s room. I keep walking.
It’s only a few steps farther until I reach the end of the hallway. With a closed door on either side of me, it’s safe to assume that one is to the bathroom and the other is the entrance to Finn’s room. I knock on both.
Knock knock.
“Is anyone in there?”
Knock knock.
“Hello?”
No response.
I start with the door on the left, turning the knob and pushing it open
slowly.
A bedroom.
My body reacts before my mind gets the chance to catch up.
Goose bumps spread across every inch of my flesh.
Because the first thing I notice is not the surfboard propped up against the blue-painted wall, or the perfectly made bed under a large framed black-and-
white print. It’s not even the handwritten card resting on top of the wooden desk: You rock, Teacher Finn.
No, the first thing I notice is the overwhelming smell of musk and
sandalwood.
How odd.
Finn and Jonathan must wear the same cologne. But if I can smell it so distinctly in here, then why haven’t I smelled it on Finn at school?
I can’t stop my eyes from wandering. I hadn’t realized how organized Finn is. Everything in his room has a place. Well, everything besides the piece of clothing I spot under the bed. Finn’s tall, so he must have missed it from his vantage point.
The neat freak in me can’t help myself. I walk across the room to the bed, dropping to my knees to grab what looks to be a green T-shirt. I’m about to drop it into the hamper when the shade of green strikes me as oddly familiar.
I uncrumple the fabric, holding it out in front of me.
I know this shirt.
My heart begins to pound.
On instinct, I bring the shirt to my nose, burying my face in the fabric.
The smell of Jonathan’s cologne is overwhelming.
Because this is his shirt.
The one that brings out the emerald flecks in his eyes.
My eyes begin to blur, and I can hardly make out the icons on my phone as I scramble to open the Find My Friends app. Jonathan’s at home, though for the first time, I have no interest in his location. I zoom out on the map, searching for the two small dots that represent Meg and me.
I find us on Sweetzer Avenue. In the very same spot I’ve been tracking Jonathan to for the past two weeks. Only, we aren’t at Sydney’s house. It’s never been Sydney’s house that Jonathan has been hanging out at, staying
overnight.
It’s been Finn’s.
I stand up abruptly, clutching the green T-shirt between my sweaty palms. I race out of Finn’s room, flinging open the bathroom door and
slamming it shut behind me just in time to empty my entire stomach into the sink.
I run the water, splashing pools of it against my clammy skin. The sight of my face in the mirror is not for the faint of heart. My eyes are glazed over.
My hair is matted to my forehead with a combination of sweat and sink
water. My skin is white as a sheet.
Knock knock.
I snap my head toward the door.
“Phoebe?” It’s Meg.
“One second.”
“Let me in! I have to pee!”
I am on autopilot. I open the door, crumpling the green T-shirt behind my back.
“Phoebe?” Meg’s brows draw together in concern. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“Yes,” I tell her. “I need to leave now.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No,” I assure her quickly. “Please stay. I ate something weird, that’s all.”
I avoid her gaze as she leans in and pushes a wet strand of hair away from my face. “Are you sure? You don’t look so good.”
“I’m positive.” I push past her, desperate to get out of this bathroom. To get out of this apartment. “You know how my stomach gets.”
“Text me the second you get home!” she yells down the hall.
“I will!” I yell back, pushing my way through the growing crowd. I don’t look back once as I rush out the front door, shuffle down the stairs, and take off in a full-on sprint.
—
My feet are raw and bleeding by the time I make it to the front door of my apartment. I lean my forehead against the door in a futile attempt to catch my
breath.
In through your nose, hold for three, out through your mouth.
I swallow the urge to throw up again. I clutch the green shirt in my right hand, hoping it’ll offer me some clarity, but I can’t think. My mind is too fuzzy. I feel like a piece of old machinery, just minutes away from shutting down for good. When I close my eyes, all I hear is static. My questions are nothing but a faint hum below the surface: How could I have been so blind to this? When did this start? What does this mean? Were you ever going to tell me?
I can’t reach for them.
All I can do is bang my forehead against the door.
Thud.
Did I truly believe that something was going to happen with Finn tonight?
All because…he’s been nice to me? Is that really all it takes to set off my delusions?
There’s only one persistent thought capable of breaking through the static in my mind: There’s something wrong with me.
I inhale a long, strained breath when, suddenly, the hard surface of the door vanishes from in front of me. I find myself falling forward, over the threshold of the apartment and straight into a wall of muscle.
“Whoa.” Jonathan reaches out, grabbing me by the shoulders and positioning me upright. The smell of his cologne makes my stomach turn. “I thought you were my food.”
I focus on breathing steadily, staring at the base of his neck, not yet ready
to meet his eyes.
In through your nose.
“Phoebe?”
Hold for three.
“Why are you so sweaty?”
Out through your mouth.
“Phoebe, what’s wrong?”
I look up at the same time that he takes a step back, scanning me from top to bottom, looking for an answer to his questions.
He finds it gripped in my right hand.
I watch as all the color drains from his face.
I am numb. I thought I’d know what to say by now. But I don’t know anything. I don’t think I ever have.
“Phoebe.” His voice is low. Quiet. His eyes are glassy. “Come inside.
Please,” he whispers.
My legs begin to move, one foot in front of the other, though I’m not sure how.
“Please say something.” Jonathan reaches out for me, for my arm. I turn toward him, slowly holding his shirt between us.
“Here.” I place it in his hands. “I figured you’d want this back.”
I keep moving, following my feet blindly until I make it to the top step.
That’s when I give myself permission to turn around and look at him. He wipes at his eyes, and my heart explodes into a million different pieces. I don’t know if it breaks for him, for me, or for both of us. I don’t know anything. Which is why I keep walking. I close the door to my room, barely making it to my bed before I collapse. I crawl under the covers, corset and all, staring at the ceiling until the world fades to black.
