Page 4 of From Now On

“Actually, it’s been a crappy night. My boyfriend and I just broke up.”

It sounds real—and sad—spoken aloud.

“Oh.”

Hunter looks startled. Unsure what to say beyond that single syllable.

We don’t know each other, not really. He’s the hot, popular hockey player. I’m the awkward dork whose hands are always stained with paint. There was one night, freshman year, when it didn’t seem like we were so different. But since that conversation I doubt Hunter even remembers, our brief interactions have all been because our best friends fell in love with each other.

He clears his throat. “I’m really sorry, Eve.”

I think—hope—that’s pure sympathy in his voice. Not pity.

“Thanks.” I force a small smile. “Good to, um, see you. And congrats on the championship. I only got to one game, but I could tell you guys were…” My voice trails. I don’t know much about hockey. I don’t know much about sports, period. Maybe if I did, my monthly conversations with my dad would last longer than two minutes. “Winners,” I conclude lamely. “So anyway, good to see you! Bye!”

Did I already say that? I think I already said that.

Hunter Morgan makes me nervous. Reduces me to a fumbling mess, more like. It might be the piercing blue eyes. The dark blond hair that always appears stylishly mussed. Maybe the muscular, athletic frame.

Or, how, when he looks at me, I feel like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff.

Whatever the cause, being around him has the unsettling effect of my mind going blank and my mouth spitting out repetitive gibberish.

It sounds like Hunter says “Bye, Eve,” as I hurry back into the dining area, but I’m moving too fast to tell for sure.

A dessert menu is waiting at my place when I return to my seat.

“I’m not hungry,” I tell Ben, sinking into the chair.

“I figured,” he replies. “I already asked for the check.”

I nod, arranging my napkin back in my lap simply for something to do. Then, I stare into space. I can’t think of one thing to say to him. My brain is vacant, and not in a pleasant, relaxed way. Just…empty. Same as the void in my chest.

Ben’s silent too, playing with an extra fork.

I sip some water while surreptitiously watching Hunter return to a booth where Holly Johnson is waiting. I hada freshman seminar with her. She’s smart, nice, and pretty. Exactly what I picture Hunter’s type being.

Holly leans forward as soon as he sits down, a seductive smile spreading across her face.

I bet she’s never accidentally tackled a hot guy. And if she did, she’d have something clever to say.

I look away, busying myself with pulling on my winter coat while Ben pays the check. Head for the door as soon as he receives the receipt, pulling in deep lungfuls of cold air once I’m outside.

Icy wind nips at my calves as I stride toward Ben’s parked sedan, the sheer tights I’m wearing no barrier from the chill. I stop and lean against the hood as I wait for Ben to catch up, staring toward the south end of Main Street. During daylight, you can see the Sound. Right now, it’s a black abyss past the streetlights.

Snow is falling, fluffy flakes drifting down from the dark sky and dissipating on the salted sidewalk. It’s March. It still feels—looks—like winter. But soon it will be spring. Soon I’ll be leaving this place. And moving to New York on my own feels very different from moving to New York with Ben.

The chirp of the car unlocking makes me jump.

I straighten, watching Ben approach with his shoulders slouched. Everything about his appearance is familiar. The glint of the chain attached to the dog tag that belonged to a childhood friend who enlisted after high school, then tragically died in a motorcycle accident last winter. The dark jeans he’s wearing that I helped him pick out at a store down the street. The green beanie his little sister knit him.

I hate every second of this.

He shoves his hands into denim pockets. “Didn’t know it was supposed to s?—”

“We’re done, Ben.”

A few feet away, he stops, a pained look spreading on his face. “Eve…”

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