Page 134 of Never Ever Getting Back Together

“Why does everyone ask me that? I’m surrounded by people. I’m psyched.”

“But no one you know,” I point out. “None ofyourpeople.”

“True. But I don’t have an awful lot of ‘my people’ I’d want here anyway. You, Dad, and Chloe would be it, andyou’reall busy.”

Yeah. It’s true. Even though I’ve just gotten back, Mom’s already going on and on about college, and shopping for dorm furniture, and textbooks, and all the things I’ve spent the last two months trying my best not to think about.

“I wish I weren’t,” I say suddenly. “All this college stuff. It’s endless. Literallyendless.And I’m feeling like this already. What’s it going to be like when I’m actually there?”

“Maya,” Skye says gently, “you’re not feeling like this‘already.’ You’ve been feeling like this since before I even met you.”

I slump back and glance at the wall. On the other side is Rosie. I wonder what she’d say if she could hear Skye.

Shout about how it’s two against one, I guess.

“I’d kill to be there with you,” I say with a sigh.

Skye stands up and opens her window, and shows me the view. Rows of brown and cream apartments. And above that, a cloudy gray sky.

It’s beautiful.

“Well,” she says. “Like you said. The flight’s only seven hours.”

I chuckle, but Skye’s face is dead serious when she turns the camera back to selfie mode. “Maya,” she says.

“Skye,” I say.

“Maya. You’ve already won.”

I go to reply, then I stop myself as her words hit home.

She’s right. Perrie was right. Everyone, except for me, was right all along.

I’ve already won.

Skye

Chloe calls me just as I get off the tube at Heathrow. “Are you sitting down?” she asks me rather dramatically.

“No, I’m in a train station,” I yell into my phone, dodging the crowd as I find the stairs.

“Have you seen?”

“Seen what?”

“Oh my god, you don’t know. Okay, okay, Perrie Matthesson uploaded this video of Jordy—how do you not know?”

I’m bumped to one side by a hurrying traveler, and Isteady myself with a glare in their direction. “I’ve been listening to an audiobook on airplane mode for the last hour. I only just turned it off when I got to the airport.”

“Ooh, is she there yet?”

“Not yet—wait, what’s the video? Should I be concerned?”

“Nope, you’re gonna love it. Watch it and message me, okay?”

“Okay?”

I anticipate needing to navigate to Perrie’s Instagram page, but there’s no need to search. I’ve received a link from what appears to be everyone I’ve ever met, including my down-the-hall neighbor, Greg, who I’ve only met once.

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