22. Alex

ALEX

NOW – SOPHOMORE YEAR – JANUARY

“ A nd then Sarah said—you’ll never believe this—she said I was ‘emotionally unavailable.’ Can you believe that?”

I stab at my salad, wondering if I can fake a medical emergency. Or maybe start a small fire. Anything to escape his endless monologue about his ex-girlfriend Sarah, who is apparently the next Frank Lloyd Wright and makes a carrot cake that would make Gordon Ramsay weep.

“That’s... something,” I manage, taking a large gulp of wine. At least Bamboo Garden has decent pinot grigio.

“Right?” Dean continues, oblivious to my lack of enthusiasm. “I mean, she’s the one who said she needed space to ‘find herself.’ Who says that? We were perfect together. Did I tell you about the tiny house she designed for her senior project? The window placement was revolutionary. Architecture is such an impressive degree.”

Yes. Three times.

I should have trusted my gut and canceled. But after our drunken hookup during Christmas break—a decision born of loneliness, too much tequila, and the depressing reality of being one of six students who stayed on campus—I felt obligated to give him a proper chance.

That, and the fact that the morning after our decidedly mediocre encounter (during which he called me “babe” exactly fourteen times), he’d looked at me with those puppy-dog eyes and said, “We should get dinner sometime.” Plus, he’s been asking Tara too, the guy is persistant.

And I, still half-asleep and feeling guilty about imagining someone else’s hands on me the night before, had said yes.

“The thing about Sarah is—” Dean starts again.

“Could we maybe talk about something else?” I interrupt, my patience finally snapping. “Like, literally anything else?”

He blinks, looking startled. “Oh, sure. Sorry. I just... she really got me, you know? She even baked me a carrot cake for my birthday. With cream cheese frosting. Made from scratch. The carrots were from a local market.”

I consider dumping my wine on his head. Instead, I force a smile. “How’s your research going?”

His face lights up. “Great! Though my workspace is a mess. Sarah used to help me organize everything. She color-coded all my clothes too. She’s really into the psychology of color—did her minor in it, actually. She says green promotes growth and?—”

“Check, please!” I call out, loud enough to make nearby diners turn and stare.

Dean frowns. “But we haven’t had dessert. Sarah and I used to split the green tea ice cream here...”

“I’m allergic to dessert,” I lie.

“Oh, I know this great recipe for allergy-friendly?—”

“I have to feed my cat,” I interrupt.

“You don’t have a cat. You mentioned that when I was over because Sarah?—”

“I just got one,” I say desperately. “Very needy. Might die if I don’t get home soon. Emergency situation.”

As if sensing my desperation, our server appears with the check. I practically throw my credit card at her.

“This was...” I struggle to find a diplomatic word, “...something.”

Dean perks up. “We should do it again! There’s this great coffee shop Sarah designed the interior for?—”

“I’m moving to Antarctica,” I blurt out. “To study... penguins.”

He looks confused. “I thought you were focused on soil composition and environmental restoration?” I think I’m on a date with the most oblivious man in Colorado.

“Career change. Very sudden. Probably leaving tomorrow.”

Outside, the January air hits my face like a slap, but it’s preferable to another minute of Sarah’s Greatest Hits. I start walking quickly, as if I can physically outrun my bad decisions.

“Alex, wait!” Dean calls after me. “Can I call you? Text you? You’re really pretty!”

“Sorry!” I yell over my shoulder. “No phones in Antarctica!”

I don’t stop power-walking until I’m safely back in my apartment. Tara looks up from her textbook, taking in my frazzled appearance.

“That bad?”

I collapse onto our couch. “Did you know that Sarah makes her own furniture? And designed a revolutionary window? And bakes carrot cake that would make angels cry?”

“Who’s Sarah?”

“Deans’s ex. The love of his life. His soul mate. The one who got away. The?—”

“Okay, I get it,” Tara interrupts, laughing. “So, not a love connection?”

I groan, burying my face in a cushion. “I should have known better. The signs were all there over Christmas. He has a Sarah tattoo.”

“No!” Tara gasps.

“Yes. On his ankle. In Comic Sans.”

“Oh honey,” Tara says sympathetically. “At least the sex was good?”

I lift my head to give her a look.

“That bad?”

I shrug.

Tara winces. “Well, there are other fish in the sea. Preferably fish who aren’t still in love with their exes.”

I quickly change out of my uncomfortable date outfit and pull on some leggings and my UMS hoodie. The fleece lining has only gotten softer with time, and the hood is just big enough to cocoon my entire head if needed. Tara always teases me about being surgically attached to it, but I don’t care. But, to her delight, I do wear it much less out of the house now.

“I’m done with fish. All of the fish in the sea. I am done with them,” I declare, walking back into the lounge. “I am going full vegan now and sticking to it!”

“Sure you are,” Tara says, her tone knowing. “This has nothing to do with a certain tall, dark, and complicated someone?”

I throw the cushion at her. “I hate you.”

“Love you too,” she sings. “Now, want to order pizza and trash talk Ryan’s tattoo choices?”

I manage a small smile. “Only if we can get pineapple.”

“You’re a monster,” she says fondly, already reaching for her phone.

As Tara orders our usual combination (half pineapple for me, half anything-but-pineapple for her), my phone buzzes. It’s Freddie.

Hey, btw Ethan’s plagiarism charges got dropped. Turns out having detailed browser history proving you slowly absorbed academic content over time is actually helpful. Sorry again for showing up tired.

Despite myself, I smile.

Yay! I’m happy for him. It’s okay to be tired; I will allow it on this occasion because you were helping a friend

You will allow it, will you? Well, thank you, Queen Lexie. You are so honourable and kind

I know, I know. My benevolence knows no bounds

Speaking of bounds, guess what Troy’s trying to do right now?

Oh God. What?

Apparently, he thinks he can fit an entire burrito in his mouth at once. Says, and I quote, ‘My ex did it on TikTok.’

NO. Do not say the word ‘ex.’ I’ve heard enough about perfect women named Sarah for one lifetime

??? Spill the gossip, Lexie. Who’s Sarah?

Just had the worst date of my life. Guy wouldn’t stop talking about his ex, Sarah, and her revolutionary window designs

I try not to think about how Freddie never talked about his exes. Or how, even at his most infuriating, he never made me want to flee the country.

Window designs?

Don’t ask. But apparently, they’re revolutionary

Sounds riveting. Did you use the Antarctica excuse?

…How did you know about that?

Please, that’s ur go-to escape plan. Remember when you told that guy in Bio you were moving to Antarctica to study penguin mating rituals?

That was ONE TIME

nd what about tonight?

Okay, twice. But this time I was just studying regular penguins

Progress!

Also, HOLY SHIT, TROY ACTUALLY DID IT. Sending video evidence [Video attachment: Troy attempting to fit an entire burrito in his mouth while Ethan cheers him on]

If he chokes, remember the Heimlich. Actually, wait, film that too

Obvs. Need to document the full scientific process

“What’s so funny?” Tara asks, hanging up from the pizza place.

“Nothing,” I say quickly, trying to school my expression.

Update: Alfie just walked in, saw Troy, and walked straight back out without saying a word

Some say he’s still walking away to this day

Honestly, I wouldn’t blame him. The sight of Troy with half a burrito hanging out of his mouth might haunt me forever

Please tell me you’re getting multiple angles of this historic moment.

What kind of amateur do you take me for? Ethan’s got the wide shot, I’m on close-ups

I’m full-on grinning now, and I can feel Tara’s knowing gaze burning into the side of my head.

“So,” she drawls, “that’s a pretty big smile for someone who just swore off all fish…”

“It’s just about Troy doing something stupid,” I protest weakly.

“Uh-huh. And Freddie just happened to be the one telling you about it?”

“He’s just documenting it!”

“And that’s why you’re blushing?”

“I’m not—” I touch my cheeks. They’re warm. Dammit. “It’s the wine.”

“Sure it is,” Tara says, clearly not buying it.

Gtg, Ethan’s trying to convince Troy to attempt two at once. Need to be the voice of reason. Or film it. Haven’t decided which yet

Be the voice of reason. But also definitely film it

This is why we work so well together, Lexie. U get me

The message makes my stomach do a little flip that has nothing to do with the wine. Or the incorrect grammer.

“You know,” Tara says softly, “it’s okay to admit you still care about him.”

I look up to find her watching me with sympathy. “I don’t—It’s not—we’re just?—”

“Use your words, honey.”

I groan, slumping further into the couch. “It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?” She pats my leg. “Now, when’s the pizza getting here? I need sustenance if we’re going to properly analyze your text messages like we’re back in high school.”

I throw a cushion at her, but I can’t wipe the smile off my face. Even after the worst date in history, tonight hasn’t turned out to be a total disaster.

Maybe Antarctica will have to wait.