Page 6 of You Started It

“You’re supposed to be trying to make me feel better,” I say.

He shifts to face me and I match his pose, humoring him. It’s not like I have anyone else to confide in. My whole world has been Ben for the last thirty-seven months. I never bothered to nurture any other friendships because I didn’t need to. It was me and Ben against the world. Or at least, it was supposed to be.

“Your mother is a stubborn mule like you are. And there’s a time and place for that. But other times you have to step back and listen to what the universe is telling you. What Benjamin is tellingyou. Jamie, my little firecracker, this boy has made it clear he doesn’t want to be with you. Why spend another second wasted on him?”

“Because he’s wrong. He doesn’t know what he wants. He’s confused. He hasn’t acclimated yet back to real life. His head is still in the clouds.”

“Khalas,” my uncle says, his voice rising slightly. “Stop making excuses for Benjamin. I don’t even see what’s so great about him anyway.” Eli clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes like the drama queen he is. “He’s what my generation called a wannabe. Let him go. You, my love, will find someone deserving of your attention. Someone who loves the real you.”

Love the real me? How could someone love the real me when I’m not even sure who that is without Ben?

“He is right about something though,” my uncle continues. “This is your last year of high school. A great opportunity for you to live a little, make new friends, see what the world has to offer.” He eyes my notebook, then me. “Without a plan. Or lists.”

“I can’t believe you compared me to my mother at a time like this.”

“Did you hearanythingI said?” he asks. “Ya Allah.” He checks his phone. “I have to go. What’re you doing tonight?”

“You’re asking me, a recently dumped seventeen-year-old, what my plans for tonight are? Are you trying to make me cry again?”

“No. I’m trying to make sure you do something other than sulk in your room while looking at pictures of you and Benjamin. The guy has no style. No sense of humor. He did you a favor. Look around, Jamie.” Whenever my Canadian-born uncle gets passionate about something, which is often, a random Arabic accent surfaces and he starts pronouncing my name Jam-e, dragging out theJ.

“I’m looking.”

“The person you turned into for Benjamin wasn’t the real you. The real you is spunky. Messy. Chaotic. Loud. Brilliant. You tried to be something you weren’t for him. But you couldn’t keep up the charade. That’s why your room looks like this. It’s your safe space. Where you let it all out. A reflection of the real Jamie.”

“What are you even saying?” I fold my arms over my chest, trying hard not to roll my eyes.

“I’m saying you watered yourself down to be the version of Jamie that Benjamin wanted. He took all your best qualities and put them in a box. You’re free of that now. All of it.”

“But you hate that I’m messy. You called me a tornado yesterday.”

“So? You remember everything I’ve ever said?” His lips set in a hard line. “You are who you are and you need to find people who get you.”

“Sure. You make it sound so easy.”

“Hey,” he says, his thick brows furrowing. “I know more than anyone else how hard it is to find yourself. I grew up with Arab parents in the nineties. ‘Gay’ wasn’t and still isn’t a word in their vernacular. But,” he says, his expression softening, “you don’t have to deal with that bullshit.”

No. I just have an absent father and a mother who I constantly butt heads with—probably because I look just like the man who left her.

“You’ll see, with some time and distance, this is probably the best thing to ever happen to you. And when that moment comes, I expect you to find me and say ‘You were right, Amo.’ ” He points to his face for a kiss. I oblige, giving him a peck on his scruffy cheek. He places a kiss on my forehead before standing.

“For what it’s worth, in the UK, ‘macking’ is slang for surfing a large, powerful wave.”

“Sounds like a mack daddy of a ride.” My uncle smirks before tripping on a shoe and shooting me a look full of wrath. “Clean this room.”

“I am who I am!” I shout back as he exits.

And what I am is someone who makes the rules, so sorry, Ben Cameron, you don’t get to decide when things are over. That’s not how this works. This is my life you’re messing with.

He’s the one who turned me into this person. Someone who had to set goals and meet them. It’s like a drug. I can’t stop now. If the plan falls apart, it’ll have a domino effect on the rest of our future together—and my own. Matching undergrads at University of Toronto to go with our matching law degrees from McGill University. You’re not getting the win on this one, Ben. You started it. Now, I’m going to finish it.

I grab my notebook and open it to a new page with a new tab.

Goal: Get Ben Cameron back in time for winter formal.

CHAPTER THREE

Step one in getting Ben back: a plan. I need to come at this logically, logistically and without emotion. I have to make it so he sees what a major mistake he’s made. I willnotgrovel. I might want Ben Cameron back with every inch of my body (and loins), but I know enough about guys to know thirsting after them isn’t a good look.

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