Page 132 of Maybe You

He never is.

Week two post-Sutton, I start my internship. I was excited about this. Prestigious company. Real life experience. Something to put on the résumé. It’s another step toward my future. A building block. Something I’ve been working toward for years.

I should be happy. Ecstatic.

But I can’t find it in me to give a fuck.

Jordan sends me a look over the rim of his coffee cup and lets out a low whistle when I walk into the kitchen. I hold out my arms and show off the dark blue pants and light gray dress shirt.

I quirk my brow at him.

“Okay?” I ask.

“Very professional.” He takes another sip, eyes still fixed on me. “Excited about today?”

I execute some sort of shrug-nod hybrid. I start with a shrug, but then halfway through I realize a shrug doesn’t convey being okay and change it into a nod. The result is truly pathetic.

Jordan’s expression morphs into barely concealed pity.

“You’ll do great.” He sends me a long, appraising look.

“Thanks.” I avoid looking at him while I say it.

He knows something’s up. I’ve been spending so much time at Sutton’s place lately that there’s no way the fact that I’m suddenly home all the time will go unnoticed.

I haven’t really explained anything, just been evasive and most likely mopey, even if I’ve put in some serious effort not to look like it.

What would I even say?

I love Sutton, and he doesn’t want me to.

“You can talk—” Jordan starts.

“I have to get going.” I speak over him.

It makes Jordan sigh and shake his head before he drains his cup and puts it in the sink.

“Want to walk together?” he asks.

For more interrogation? No, thanks. Then again, I don’t really have a reason to say no.

“Let me just go get my stuff,” I say.

We head out together and the next fifteen minutes feel almost normal. It’s a beautiful summer day. Not too hot yet, which it will be in a few weeks, if not earlier. The sun is shining, and people seem in less of a hurry today.

It should be nice, but I take all of it in with my newfound apathy. I’m not even sad, except for that annoying ache. Not angry either. Just sort of… empty. Which is somehow even worse. Everything is in dull gray monotone. Pathetic.

I turn toward Jordan on the street corner where we’re supposed to part ways to say goodbye. Instead of letting me do that, he’s suddenly in front of me, pulling me into a tight hug.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says once he lets go, squeezing my shoulder quickly.

I watch him walk away until he disappears behind a corner.

“It’s going to be okay,” I mutter under my breath.

I highly doubt it.

I turn left and walk toward the subway.

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