Page 85 of Love and Other Goals

Teegan is biting her lip as she surveys me. “So, don’t be mad, but I talked to Mateo today.”

I narrow my eyes at her.

“I’m just trying to look out for you,” she says, holding her hands up defensively. “Mateo called me, and he’s really sorry, like he feels really, really terrible. I just wonder if it would be good for both of you to at least try to talk through things. It might not really be as bad as you think it is.”

Her comment cuts like a knife. “Not as bad as I think? How could it possibly not be as bad as I think? You weren’t there in the conversation, Teegan. Mateo might feel sorry now, but he showed all his cards yesterday. And I’m not interested in reliving that. Don’t try to push me, Teegs.” My eyes fill again, somehow drawing on an infinite water supply flowing out of my broken heart.

“Okay, I won’t. You’re my Beef, Lana. I want what’s best for you,” Teegan reassures me, taking my hand. “I promised Mateo I’d ask you to consider talking, but I’m not going to push you if you don’t want to. I swear.”

“Please just tell him I don’t want to see him. I don’t want him showing up here or outside my classes or the library. My heart can’t handle it.”

Teegan nods, and I suppose I’m grateful that she talked with Mateo solely so she can pass along this message. “Have you told your parents yet?” she asks.

I groan. “No. I’m actively avoiding it.” Teegan just gives me a look that I know means I need to stop avoiding it.

I craft a message to my mom.

Hey Mom. I really don’t feel like talking about it, so I’m sending you this message instead of calling, but I just wanted to let you and Dad know that Mateo and I broke up yesterday

Showing my phone to Teegan, she simply raises an eyebrow. Ten seconds after hitting send, it immediately starts ringing. Teegan’s look says, “Told you so,” without actually saying anything. She leaves the room so I can answer.

Sighing, I hit the green button on my phone. “Mom, I said I didn’t feel like talking.”

“Lana Renae Grant, you cannot possibly think you could send me that text, and I wouldn’t call you,” Mom responds with a firm voice.

I simply grunt in response.

“You’re going to have to explain sooner or later, so may as well be now.”

I walk my mom through yesterday’s events, attempting to be brief but getting roped into longer answers by her many follow-up questions.

“Hmm,” she finally says, after we’ve exhausted the play-by-play of my conversations.

“Mom, I’m going to be home in just a few days for spring break. I’m worn out, and I just really don’t want to talk about this anymore. Can you please just hold off sharing your many thoughts until I’m home?” I plead.

“Alright, honey. You know I love you,” she responds.

“I know. Love you too.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Ireturn to class on Thursday but choose not to go to the library or to the Arrow meeting that night. On Friday, I purposely arrive later than usual to my Human Communications class so I can choose a desk far away from Aaron. I finish the quiz as quickly as possible and leave without giving him the chance to talk to me. I’ve also blocked his number and social media accounts, determined to act as though I don’t know him at all.

Lana from a year ago would never have been able to believe it.

Classes finished, I pack my suitcase and say goodbye to Teegan and Amaya for break. When I arrive at my car in the parking lot, my breath catches.

Under my windshield wiper is a stack of three notes with my name in Mateo’s handwriting. I swallow hard and pull them out, staring at them in my hands as I sit behind the steering wheel. Shaking, I stuff them in the glove box without reading them.

They haunt me on the three-hour drive home, silently calling out to me. Images of Mateo’s dimple, melted-chocolate eyes, strong arms, and sweet lips dance through my thoughts. Memories of all the tender, thoughtful ways he pursued me fight against the anger in my mind.

When I pull into my parents’ driveway, I turn the car off and reach a trembling hand toward the glove box. Suddenly, the image of Mateo’s narrowed eyes and clenched fists flashes through my mind, and I snatch my hand back. I can’t. I just can’t.

My parents are approaching my car, so I open the door and stand up. They both hug me without saying anything. “Can we not talk tonight?” I ask quietly in my mom’s embrace. I feel her nod, and my dad grabs my suitcase from the trunk.

Inside, it’s obvious my siblings have no idea how to treat this Mateo-less version of Lana. Olivia gives me a hug and declares, “I hate that you had to give up such a hot guy, but girl power. Solidarity.”

I huff a laugh. “Um, thanks for that, sis.”

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