Chapter 29

twenty-nine

. . .

Sloane

The restaurant is cozy and bustling, the smell of fresh bread and garlic filling the air as we sit around the table. Grandma insisted on taking us to her favorite Italian spot—“The portions are big, and the wine flows like water!”—and now she’s sipping a glass of Merlot with a contented smile.

“So,” she says, setting her glass down and giving me and Jacklyn a pointed look. “What’s going on with you two these days? I want the juicy stuff, not just the work and school nonsense.”

Jacklyn grins, twirling her pasta. “You’re asking the right girls, Grandma. We’ve got drama for days.”

“Oh?” Grandma leans in, her silver earrings catching the light. “Do tell.”

Jacklyn wastes no time launching into her story about Brian, recounting their ups and downs with her usual dramatic flair. Grandma listens intently, nodding along and occasionally interjecting with “That boy needs to grow up” or “Have you told him that?”

When Jacklyn finishes, Grandma turns her sharp eyes on me. “And what about you, Sloane? You’ve been suspiciously quiet.”

I shrug, poking at my ravioli. “There’s not much to tell. Took the MCAT, trying not to stress about it.”

Grandma arches an eyebrow. “And the boy you’ve been sneaking around with?”

My fork clatters onto my plate. “What? How?—”

“Oh, please.” She waves a hand, grinning. “You think I don’t notice these things? You’ve had that ‘boy trouble’ look since I walked in the door.”

Jacklyn bursts out laughing, and I groan, covering my face. “It’s complicated.”

“It always is,” Grandma says matter-of-factly. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t talk about it.”

I glance at Jacklyn, who’s nodding enthusiastically, clearly on Team Grandma. With a sigh, I relent. “There was a guy. We were…seeing each other. But it wasn’t serious. At least, it wasn’t supposed to be.”

“And?”

“And I ended it because I didn’t think we wanted the same things,” I admit, feeling the weight of the words as I say them out loud.

Grandma leans back, studying me with her sharp, knowing eyes. “And now you’re wondering if you made the right choice.”

I open my mouth to deny it but stop. What’s the point? “Maybe,” I mumble.

She smiles softly, reaching across the table to pat my hand. “Sloane, relationships are never about finding someone who’s perfectly aligned with you. They’re about finding someone worth figuring it out with.”

I stare at her, the truth of her words sinking in as she continues.

“But,” she adds, her tone firm, “that doesn’t mean you settle for someone who isn’t willing to meet you halfway. It’s a two-way street, sweetheart. Always remember that.”

Jacklyn nods, her voice thoughtful. “So…how do you know when it’s worth it?”

Grandma’s eyes twinkle. “When you can’t imagine your life without them, even on the hard days. When the thought of losing them makes you a little braver, a little stronger, because you’d rather fight for it than let it go.”

Her words hang in the air, and for a moment, the noise of the restaurant fades into the background. I think about Asher, the way he made me laugh even when I was exhausted, the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the room.

The way it felt to walk away—and how much it still hurts.

Grandma picks up her wine, taking a sip as she gives me a sly smile. “So, who’s ready for dessert?”

The apartment is a whirlwind of fabric, sequins, and discarded packaging as Jacklyn rifles through her latest Amazon haul, tossing costumes left and right.

“This one’s too basic,” she mutters, holding up a barely-there red dress before tossing it onto the growing pile. “And this one screams desperate. ”

I sit cross-legged on my bed, flipping through the notification email I got earlier. My MCAT results. A solid score. Good enough for New York, but even better for a school in Texas that just emailed me about a generous scholarship offer.

Jacklyn’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Sloane! Hello? Are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah,” I say, folding the email closed and forcing a smile. “I’m here.”

“Good.” She holds up a shimmering gold Cleopatra costume, complete with a jewel-encrusted headdress and a dangerously high slit up the leg. “How do I look?”

“Like Brian’s going to have a stroke,” I say dryly, though I can’t deny she looks incredible.

“That’s the goal,” she says, grinning. “So, what about you? What are you wearing?”

I glance at the conservative dress lying on my bed, a far cry from Jacklyn’s sultry ensemble. “I don’t even know if I’m going.”

Jacklyn gasps like I’ve just insulted her mother. “Excuse me? You have to go. It’s our party!”

“It’s your party,” I correct her, fiddling with the edge of my comforter. “I’m just…not really in the mood.”

Jacklyn crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes at me. “This isn’t about Asher, is it?”

My stomach twists, but I shake my head. “No.”

“Liar,” she says, flopping onto the bed beside me. “Come on, Sloane. What happened with you two? You were all…glowy a few weeks ago, and now you’re just mopey.”

“I’m not mopey,” I protest weakly.

“You’re mopey,” she insists. “And you miss him. Just admit it.”

“I don’t,” I say, but my voice cracks slightly, betraying me.

Jacklyn smirks knowingly. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

I sigh, leaning back against the pillows. “It’s not that simple. We want different things. He’s…I don’t know. He’s focused on football, and I have my own stuff to figure out.”

“Uh-huh,” Jacklyn says, unconvinced. “And yet, here you are, still thinking about him. Sounds to me like you’re just scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of what it would mean if you actually let yourself be happy for once.”

Her words hit harder than I’d like, and I sit in silence for a moment, chewing on them.

Jacklyn nudges me with her elbow. “Tell you what. Wear something hot, show up, and remind him exactly what he’s missing. Worst case, you have a few drinks, dance a little, and leave. No harm, no foul.”

I glance at the pile of costumes, then at the dress on my bed. Something shifts inside me—defiance, maybe. Or just the realization that I’m tired of hiding.

“Fine,” I say, standing and grabbing the bag I’d shoved under my bed. “I’ll go. But on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

I pull out the costume: a fitted pencil skirt, a crisp white blouse, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. “Sexy librarian. And you have to tell me I look hot.”

Jacklyn bursts out laughing. “Oh, honey. You’re going to break hearts.”

A little while later, the doorbell rings, and soon Brian and a few of his friends are sprawled out on our couch, drinks in hand, the buzz of pre-party energy filling the apartment. Jacklyn is holding court in her Cleopatra outfit, her confidence practically shining through the room. She laughs loudly at something Brian says, tossing her hair like she knows exactly how good she looks.

I sit at the edge of the group, nursing a beer and trying not to feel out of place.

Brian turns toward me, leaning back against the arm of the couch with a grin. “Hey, Sloane, you’re coming to the party, right? Jacklyn said you were on the fence.”

I shrug, sipping my beer. “I guess so.”

“Good,” he says, raising his drink. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Jacklyn snorts, nudging him with her foot. “You’re such a politician.”

Brian grins, catching her ankle and giving it a playful squeeze. “What can I say? I aim to please.”

The room erupts into laughter, and I smile faintly, though my thoughts are elsewhere.

I can’t help but think about how Asher and I once joked that the pre-game is the best part of any party. “It’s where the real fun happens,” he’d said, leaning closer with that stupid grin of his, “before everyone gets too drunk to remember anything.”

But he’s not here.

“That’s so weird about Asher, though,” Brian says suddenly, pulling me back into the conversation.

I glance up, startled. “What’s weird about him?”

“That he’s the backup again,” Brian says, shaking his head. “Like, the guy’s a natural leader. Everyone loves him, and he’s the best player on the team. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Coach has his reasons,” one of Brian’s friends pipes up, though his tone is skeptical.

“Yeah, but come on,” Brian continues. “Knox is the kind of guy you build a team around. He’s always got your back, always stays cool under pressure. Hell, he even helped me with that Calc assignment last semester, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him do anything half-assed.”

Jacklyn smirks, resting her chin on her hand. “You’ve got a bit of a man-crush there, Brian.”

He shrugs, grinning. “What can I say? The dude’s a legend.”

The words hit me harder than I expect, a bittersweet pang twisting in my chest. Brian’s right—Asher is that guy. Steady, reliable, maddeningly charming. And yet, here I am, trying to convince myself that letting him go was the right call.

I glance down at my beer, swirling the amber liquid in the bottle as the conversation drifts to costume ideas and drink specials. The hollow ache in my chest grows heavier, and I take a long sip, hoping it’ll drown the feeling.

“You okay?” Jacklyn asks quietly, leaning in so only I can hear.

“Yeah,” I say automatically, forcing a smile. “Fine.”

Her lips curve into a knowing smile, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she clinks her drink against mine. “It’s Halloween, Sloane. We’re going to have an amazing time tonight.”

“I know,” I murmur, plastering a smile on my face.

I laugh softly as the pre-game buzz continues around me, but my thoughts remain stubbornly stuck on Asher.

I check my phone, like I used to, hoping to see some message from him, but there’s nothing. Of course.

Am I really just afraid to be happy?

The house is packed when we arrive, music thumping loud enough to rattle the windows. I adjust my glasses nervously, feeling both exposed and exhilarated in my outfit.

“Relax,” Jacklyn whispers as we step inside. “You look incredible.”

I nod, trying to play it cool, but my heart pounds as I scan the crowd.

And then I see them.

Joe, standing by the bar in a football uniform—of course—laughing a little too loudly.

And Asher.

He’s leaning against the wall in a bomber jacket, aviator shades perched on his head, and a fake mustache completing the Top Gun look. The sight of him makes my knees feel like jelly.

For a moment, I can’t move, caught between wanting to run and wanting to walk straight to him.

Jacklyn grabs my arm, pulling me toward the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s get a drink before you start making out with him in public.”

“Jacklyn!” I hiss, but she just winks and disappears into the crowd.

I glance back at Asher, and for a brief second, his eyes meet mine.

Here we go.