Page 64 of The First Love Myth

“What are you doing?” My sister’s voice comes from the living room and still holds all the amusement it did moments ago.

No, not Chinese. Not shore takeout. Finally, I pull out the menu I was looking for and hold it up for Liz to see. “We’re celebrating. We always order Martino’s when we’re celebrating. What do you want on your pizza?”

The front door opens, and Dad walks in spouting apologies before he even drops his briefcase. He puts his umbrella in the rack and shucks off his jacket before looking up.

“Dad,” I say, the landline to my ear, “mushrooms and pepperoni?”

He squints at the menu. “Yes, perfect. What are we celebrating?”

Ioffer to pick up the pizza to give Liz a chance to tell Dad he’s going to be a grandpa on her own.Grandpa. Wow.Dad is older than most of my friends’ parents, but he doesn’t seem old enough to be a grandpa. That’s going to take some getting used to.

Martino’s is crowded, as I knew it would be. A rainy Saturday night is the perfect excuse to order pizza, and college students, even in Ardena, are notoriously poor. You can’t beat the Martino’s three-dollar slice and fountain drink with a student ID. Three dollars. It’s impossible to get a slice for that little anywhere else in town. I catch the owner’s eye so he knows I’m here, and he holds up two hands—ten minutes. Not too bad, I guess. I grab a Snapple out of the fridge and sit down at one of the tables closest to the door and completely out of the way. Not too many people are sitting and eating, but it’s still early. I pull my book out of my purse.

“Zo?”

No freakin’ way.Of all the people at Martino’s on this Saturday night, it has to be Andrew. And he feels it necessary to say hi to me after what he pulled at Mack’s. I almost don’t look up. I almost immerse myself in the fictional world I’ve been in all day. But a morbid curiosity gets the better of me.

“Hi, Andrew,” I say, holding my spot with a finger.

“Can I talk to you?”

I glance past him, but the line hasn’t moved in the two minutes since I arrived. “If you must.”

“I guess I deserve that.” He sits down opposite me and fiddles with his baseball hat. He’s nervous. Well, that’s something at least.

“What do you want?”

“Are you going back to Bellewood?”

I stare at him. That can’t seriously be his question. But his expression is grave and leaves no doubt that he wants an answer. “Yes, obviously.”

“That’s what I thought.” He takes his hat off and rounds the rim between his hands. “I’m transferring.”

“What?”

This has to be a hunger hallucination. Andrew can’t be sitting in front of me telling me he’s leaving Bellewood days before we’re supposed to go back. It isn’t the same haven for him that it is for me, but he was happy there. Happy enough.

“I applied to Drexel earlier this summer, after everything that happened in Wildwood, actually. And I got in. They called me today to tell me they found a dorm room for me.”

“Wow.” Literally no other words will come out of my mouth. Theguyis leaving. The guy never leaves. “Congratulations.”

He looks up at me for only a second before his eyes refocus on his hat. “Maybe I’ll be better there.”

“Better?”

“A better person. Or at least better than whoever I became these last few months.”

This is where, in a normal conversation, I would assure him. But I can’t. Andrew might not be a bad person at heart, but to me recently, he can definitely be better. Maybe away from me and Claire and all of it, he can change. Or maybe this is who he really is. I hope that the latter is not the case.

“Maybe” is all I say.

“I’m sorry, Zo, about all of it.”

“It’s fine.” Which is true and not true. “I mean, it’s not fine, but I’m choosing to be over it.”

He meets my eyes now. “I’m not over it.”

For the first time since he sat down, I really look at him. He’s tired and drawn, a shell of himself.

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