Page 19 of From Now On

I blink at him, dislodging some raindrops from my eyelashes. They slip down my cheeks like tears. “What are you talking about? Why would you come over later?”

“To talk.” Ben’s response has an unspokenduhat the end, like I’m the one making no sense right now. “We have alotto talk about. There’s really no good train option from Port Haven down to Manhattan, but I was considering getting a car anyway?—”

“Ben. Webroke up, remember? We don’t have a lot to talk about. We have nothing to talk about. I meantwe’re fine, as in,we’re done. I already told you that.”

“I was hoping you’d reconsider,” he says quietly.

“I haven’t. I won’t.”

He sighs heavily, then knocks his hood off his head. His light brown hair is saturated to a darker shade in seconds. “I didn’t mean it, Eve.”

“Oh? So you’renotmoving to Maine?”

“No. I mean, yes, I am moving home. But that other shit I said? About not seeing forever and not wanting to go to film school? I thought that would just make the decision easier, convincing myself I was making the right choice. I just—I need some time. I need to go back and see what that’s like and then decide what my next move is. Port Haven isn’tthatfar from New York. I’m not asking you to change your plans. I’ll be able to visit on most weekends and?—”

“I get why you’re moving home, Ben. But…you had to pick, and you did. You can’t have it both ways.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Why does it have to be one or the other? We’re adults. I don’t see why we can’t figure out a plan that?—”

“Because I don’t want to! You knew I didn’t want to, you knew wehada plan, and you changed it without consulting me.”

“I said I was sorry, Eve.”

“That doesn’t change that you did it!”

“So, that’sit? Three years together, and you’re justdone?”

Ireallyresent how he’s attempting to make it sound likeI’mthe one who lacked faith in us. “You’re the one who changed.”

“People change, Eve! You’ve changed. I can’t even remember the last time we had a conversation that didn’t include New York. You were obsessed with it. It felt like you wanted a built-in roommate in New York, notme.”

Irritation flares hot in my chest. It seems like my soaked skin should be steaming. “Fuck you, Ben. I’m allowed to plan ahead and be excited about my future. And I was talking to you about it because it wasourplan. Because I thought you were excited about it too.”

“I was. But…my dad’s getting older. My uncle’s handling a lot on his own, and I just?—”

Bob Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone” interrupts. Ben’s favorite song. He pulls his phone out and silences the call. “I’m late to David’s. Can we…can we grab lunch after your last class tomorrow?Please?”

“I can’t. I’m leaving right after class for spring break.”

It’s the first time I’ve felt relieved to have plans to use as an excuse, rather than wish I had an excuse to back out of my plans.

Ben looks stunned. “You’re…you’re leaving—what? Where are you going?”

“California. With Harlow.”

I don’t mention who else will be there. On the few occasions Ben was around Harlow’s boyfriend, he didn’t say much. If I had to guess, I’d say he was intimidated by Conor. Even if you don’t follow sports, it’s impossible to attend Holt and not knowwho Conor Hart is. He’s Holt’s biggest celebrity, and Aidan and Hunter are talked about a lot as well.

Ben doesn’t seem to know how to respond. The possibility that I’d leave for spring break doesn’t appear to have occurred to him, and I feel a rush of gratitude toward Harlow for insisting I join her plans. Lying—or admitting that I have nothing going on—would feel extra pathetic right now.

I take advantage of his temporary muteness. “Have a good break, okay?”

I stride away before he says anything, eager to escape the drizzle.

Ben doesn’t call my name.

He doesn’t chase me. This time, there’s no pang as I try to recall if he ever did.

All I feel is relief. And the realization that it feels exactly like an ending.

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