Chapter 20 | Zoey

Chapter 20

Zoey

“ Y ou have an overnight bag. Why do you have an overnight bag?” I ask, closing the door behind Becca. I don’t remember planning a sleepover, but then it’s been a week . Which Becca knows, and it’s not like we need permission from our parents—or even each other—to crash. We’ve been sleeping at each other’s houses for over a decade.

“Oh.” Becca glances around for Dad, who isn’t here, and then leans in conspiratorially. She’s totally not spending the night. I’m about to be an alibi. “Ben’s parents are out of town for their anniversary. My mom doesn’t know, but you know how she is. I made like I was spending the night with you now that Liz is gone.”

Like I need a reminder that my sister officially moved across the state this morning, just as we were finally getting close. “So you’re sleeping at Ben’s tonight?”

Becca’s smirk extends into a full-on grin. “I don’t think there will be much sleeping.”

I stop in my tracks. With how Becca and Ben have been dancing around her virginity all summer, I honestly stopped thinking she was going to hand it over. But that smile...

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Last hours as a virgin!” Becca whispers the words as we plop down on my bed, like her mother can hear her across the houses. “Any advice?”

“Close your eyes and think of England?” I duck in time to avoid being hit in the face with a pillow. “Relax and try not to overthink it. Let it be what it’s going to be.”

“Can you not overthink losing your virginity?”

“You can try,” I say, hugging the pillow to my chest. “I built it up so much. You know, junior prom. Andrew and I were in love, and we had the whole Wildwood cottage to ourselves...”

Becca leans forward even though she knows every detail about that night. “You said it was perfect.”

I shrug. “Yeah, I mean, it was nice and meaningful. Our whole relationship shifted after that night. But when I think about Andrew, even when we were still together, I don’t usually think about that first time. There were so many more important moments. Maybe not as big as the first time, but I think that’s the point.”

She nods, but she’s already overthinking how not to overthink. She bites her bottom lip, and behind her glasses, her eyes are unfocused, her hands absently playing with the hem of her shirt. There’s no one quite like my bestie.

“Did you want to do something before the big night?” I ask in an attempt to bring her back to reality.

She shrugs. “It’s Friday night. Everyone’s going to Lola’s.”

Ah, Lola’s. I’ve meticulously avoided the café since getting home. A party here or there I can tolerate, but being forced into a tiny late-night coffee shop with small booths and even smaller minds is not my idea of a good time anymore. Not when all anyone wants to know about are Andrew and Claire and how I “let” that happen. Yeah. Because I totally suspected my best friend was going to fuck my boyfriend and let them hang out, regardless. Nothing like a small town to give you a complex. It’s no wonder I’m still sleeping with Andrew.

“We can go,” I say, hoping my voice sounds resolute. I’m tired of hiding, and it’s not helping anything. Plus, I didn’t do anything wrong. Andrew and Claire were awful to me, and yet I’m the one hiding while they party and go to Lola’s every weekend.

“We don’t have to, Zo.” She almost looks ashamed, but I’m not fooled. “I know it’s not your scene anymore.”

It was never Becca’s scene. Not until Ben happened over Christmas break. My whole high school career was a balancing act of hanging out with my varsity friends, including Claire, without hurting Becca’s feelings or making her feel left out, and now Becca’s the one staying behind to appease me. I will not allow it.

“I want to go. I’m not some scorned woman who needs to hide away due to the shame of my husband’s infidelity. I’m a college kid whose ex-boyfriend is an ass.”

“True, but—”

“I know Claire will probably be there. I’ll be fine.” I would in no way be fine. The last time I really saw Claire, she was pulling her clothes on as I tried not to vomit. But we live in the same small town, and we go to schools within the same ten-mile radius. Our running routes intersect. Our lives overlap enough to be close but not claustrophobic, as Claire put it when we decided on the neighboring schools.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, Bec. My options are literally hang out at Lola’s with my bestie in her final hours of virginity or watch Outlander with my dad.”

Becca cringes because there are few things more awkward than sitting next to your single dad during the endless sex scenes. “Right. Lola’s it is, then.”

T he air is thick with coffee and carbs and sweat. Too many Ardena students and alum are crowded inside. The noise level is a decibel above loud. A few heads turned at my entrance but not many. Thank god. Maybe the flaming end of my relationship has run its course. More likely, it’s not as exciting without Andrew or Claire also in attendance.

I’m squished into a booth with Becca and Ben. There’s so little space that I’m practically on a first-name basis with the wall, and the other side of me is knocking into Becca with every breath. She’s doing the same to Ben, who is practically falling out of the booth. How many nights had I sat like this with Andrew and Claire, never wondering, never concerned when we mushed together? My whole life is here. At least, my whole Ardena life. It seems small in a way it didn’t over Christmas break. I could tell you something about everyone in this room, and for most of the patrons, something meaningful. Growing up ensconced in the drama that is my family, I loved this tight-knit town. I needed friends and community to compensate, but now I’m not so sure it’s a good thing.

I scan the space again, my eyes landing on Andrew’s best friend, Rob, and his usual crew. Andrew isn’t there. He doesn’t go out the night before Wildwood week. He spends the night with his mom and packs and repacks and checks the schedule and tinkers with his car. Andrew is a lot of things, but careless isn’t one of them. Which is why, in the darkest hours of the night, I wonder if he wanted me to catch him. Cheating is heartless, but doing the deed in a dorm room I frequented twenty minutes before I was meant to arrive? That’s careless in a way that Andrew is not, that any person cheating cannot afford to be. These are the questions that still haunt me and that I can’t ask. Why Claire? Why let himself get caught? Why come back if he wanted to be away from me so badly? Why?

Stop.

My heart races, and in my lap, my hands shake. I cannot spiral here. I cannot cry in front of my world. Breathe. The whys might never get answered. Andrew isn’t going to tell me freely, and I am never going to ask him and break my heart again. Whatever the answers, they will be the end of everything. There’s no going back once I know why. Nothing to chase but a devastating truth. But then, was there ever really a possibility of going back? Would getting back together with Andrew make me happy? Or would it be a stopgap until it comes crashing back down? I force the questions from my head. Andrew and I are not getting back together. Not tonight. Probably not ever. I squeeze my hands together until they stop shaking.

“Zo.” Becca nudges me with her elbow. I turn to her and hope she can’t see the panic waiting under my skin. She’s so happy that her eyes barely take me in. She’s irrevocably in love. Finally. “We’re heading out. Do you want us to drop you off first?”

I want to be nowhere near alone with Ben and Becca pre the first time they do it. “No, I’m good. Be safe.”

Becca gives me an incredulous look that says obviously, you dummy. “We’ll debrief in the morning.” She giggles at her own bad joke. “Pun totally intended.”

And then she’s gone. Becca’s—well, more accurately, Ben’s—crowd isn’t exactly mine. I know these people, went to school with most of them since kindergarten, but spending time alone with them? I wish I could spot one track friend in the room, but I don’t. Someone slides in next to me, and while I’m not cramped against the wall, I’m most certainly trapped. I focus on the conversation. Pledging. They’re talking about pledging. Perfect. Many schools have rules about freshmen joining Greek life in their first semester or at all, but Bellewood isn’t one of them. The only letters I wear tonight hang around my neck, a gift from Andrew, but there’s no way I’m giving up my letters. I untuck them from my shirt.

“I’m a Delta Sig.” Several sets of eyes turn toward me because, of course, that’s the first thing I’ve said all night to the group. “What do you want to know?”

An hour later, the group is still going around in circles. It took me a minute, but soon after I jumped into the conversation, I realized everyone around me goes to Rutgers. While my feedback on the process was appreciated, it was not particularly relevant. Delta Sig isn’t a house on campus. And though Dad teaches there, he knows nothing about Greek life. I’m not even sure he can properly identify my sorority despite all the letters I have in our house. When the guy next to me goes for more coffee, I slip out after him.

I need a breather. Talking about my sorority is one of the few things that make me feel normal, that has no Andrew strings attached, but it also makes me miss my sisters and Bellewood desperately. Even after my life blew up, running the loopy paths of campus and into town, avoiding the ones I knew Claire frequented, was one of my few reprieves. Haley, my sorority big sister and roommate, was the other. She is exactly who I need right now. She would talk sense into me and would never let me off the hook for sleeping with Andrew. Not that Becca would. But Haley’s reaction would be fierce, whereas Becca’s would be disappointed.

I step into line for the bathroom. It’s relatively short—a small miracle. Lola’s has two single-stall, gender-neutral restrooms. The owner always laments on Friday nights about how he’s going to upgrade, but he never does and probably never will. Some nights the line for the restroom winds far enough back that people who would never order another drink or pick up food find themselves standing in front of a display case. Lola’s is not Ardena Café quality overall, but a Lola’s apple crumble is a joyous thing in its own right. Thankfully, the case is far behind me tonight.

Despite the ache in my chest for my sorority sisters, tonight’s been a good night. It feels normal in a way that home hasn’t in a while. Maybe surviving the rest of this summer won’t be so hard. Maybe, instead of surviving, I need to reclaim my place and realign my expectations. Determination swells in me. I can do that. Ardena is my home, and that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I’m Zoey Reid—not Andrew’s ex-girlfriend or Claire’s former best friend or the girl my classmates whisper about when I’m not in the room. My whole life has been about redefining the narrative, thanks to my mother and father’s affair. If I can turn that story, I can turn this one.

The bathroom door opens, and my heart stops. A chill enshrouds me. I gasp for breath even though I’m breathing too fast. Claire’s eyes meet mine, and I take a step back, but there’s nowhere to go in the small space unless I literally flee. And that will not help redefine the narrative. Instead, I count to ten and force my breathing back to a measured rate before facing my former best friend.