Page 11 of From Now On

Ben didn’t respond to my reply.

I swallow more fizzy vodka, avoiding Harlow’s concerned gaze.

The first half of spring semester felt frenzied, like graduation was imminent. Now, time has come to a standstill, and the remaining seven weeks of college appear an eternity ahead. Seven weeks of avoiding Ben. Seven weeks of screening potentialroommates to ensure I don’t end up sharing space with a serial killer. Seven weeks of submitting job applications alone.

Spring break starts next Saturday. Or Friday, if you’re one of the lucky few with no classes on that day. I didn’t want to spend any of my precious savings on a trip, so I planned to stay on campus. With Ben. We were going to take a day trip to Seattle…and discuss New York.

Even if Ben’s in Somerville for break, I won’t have to see him. I can stay, slouched, on this very sofa for the entire week.

“Answer him,” I tell Harlow, nodding toward her phone. “Way more productive than staring at me with that wrinkle between your eyes.”

The wrinkle deepens. “Do you want to go to Gaffney’s? Throw some darts? Hit some pool balls?”

I consider it, then shake my head. “No. Thanks. Honestly, I just want to stay on this couch the rest of the weekend. I’ll get through next week, and then I can camp out here all break.”

I’ll stock up on cookie dough and browse the library’s fiction section and order a new face mask and?—

“Absolutely not.” Harlow looks horrified.

“No, it’s a good thing,” I assure her. “Like a rest, recharge, and revitalize kind of retreat?—”

“You are not spending spring break—ourfinalspring break—on the couch. That isnoton the bucket list.” Harlow points toward the kitchen. I don’t turn my head, but I know where her finger is aimed. Right at the creased piece of paper attached to the bulletin board hanging next to the stove. The senior year bucket list was my attempt to prioritize all the things I told myself I’d do in college but didn’t. It was a short list to begin with, and all I’ve crossed off wasattend a sporting event.

“There’s nothing about spring break on the bucket list,” I say, reaching for my drink again. It’s become an emotional support glass at this point.

“Notyet.” Harlow hops off the couch, returning a few seconds later with the worn paper. Something red—pasta sauce, I hope—is splatted at the bottom.

Harlow picks up one of her thick marine biology textbooks off the coffee table and flops down on the couch with a pen poised in hand.

She scribbles something, then holds the paper out to me.

I have a bad feeling about this.

Yes, I wrote the list to be more adventurous. But Harlow is much more adventurous than I am. I barely remember what made the original list, but it was nothing that wild.All-nighterwas on there, I think?Attend more parties?

Hesitantly, I take the paper from her. The title I wrote—Senior Year Bucket Listhas been crossed out. It’s now calledEve’s Fuck-It List.

Andspring break road triphas been added to the bottom.

I sigh. “Harlow, I can’t afford?—”

“It’s free,” she tells me. “The whole trip has been planned and paid for.”

“Yourtrip?”

Harlow told me last month she was driving to a small town in northern California with Conor over spring break. She invited me at the time, but I told her I had plans with Ben.

“Ourtrip.” She grins. “Come on, it will be a blast.”

“I appreciate the offer, H. I really do. But there’s no way I’m freeloading and third-wheeling for a week?—”

“Fifth-wheeling, technically. Aidan’s coming too and he has a girlfriend now.”

“Even worse. I’m happy here—what are you doing?”

“Texting Conor to check with him. But I’m sure he’ll say it’s cool.”

“Harlow,no!” I grab for her arm, but it’s just out of reach.

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