Page 78 of Rewriting the Story

I should probably listen to her, but I can't find it in me to care too much right now. Not after what I found. Not after what he was going to do.

“And why is that funny?”

“You know what? Maybe we should go outside,” Leo says. “I need a cigarette. Henry, care to join me?”

“Sure,” he says before they walk outside, but I’ve already locked on to the memories flooding my brain of what I found that day in his apartment.

“Amelia, whatever it is you're thinking about doing, don’t,” she warns. “The impulsive part of your brain is overriding everything else. Do not make this worse for yourself.” My mind is already made up as I head for the door, my feet moving of their own accord toward him in the parking lot.

“You’re a liar,” I say as I point my finger in his face. “Look, I’m aware I fucked up, but at least I don’t go around lying to people.”

“Well, that’s debatable,” is all Ella says from behind me.

“What the hell are you doing?” Henry asks me.

“Darling, let’s go inside,” Leo says as he throws his cigarette out, barely having smoked it.

“I’m talking! I’m giving you answers. Do you want to know why I left?”

“Of course I do!” he says back to me.

“Then why are you telling Leo you never wanted to get married when I found a ring on your bookshelf back in college?”

28

Then — FinalsWeek of Spring Semester

So Real by Jeff Buckley

IletmyselfintoHenry’s apartment because I know he’s not back yet. His mom bought a new washer and dryer over the weekend, and Henry offered to help install them, since he didn't want his dad to do all the heavy lifting.

I’m over here earlier than I planned, but I wanted to get his place ready for the small surprise I got him. Honestly, it’s not a big deal, but I went book shopping with the girls over the weekend, and while I was there, I bought Henry this series he’s been eyeing for a few weeks. He keeps mentioning it, but he never bought them because of how busy school has been keeping him.

Senioryear has not been easy, and with finals week in full swing, I wanted to do something nice for him. I have the books, his favorite snacks, and even a new writing notebook tucked into this small basket. He told me his last one was almost full, so I figured he needed a new one.

It’s been hard for us to see one another with how much studying and shit we’ve had going on, so dinner and a movie on this slow Sunday is my idea of a perfect night.

Sure, we sleep in the same bed most nights, but I miss having actual conversion with him, even when we barely speak. Some nights, we study together, but lately, we’ve only seen one another before we sleep, and I hate it.

I never thought I would crave someone's presence as much as I do his, but I do. Henry and his quiet love are all I need when life feels too overwhelming, and with graduation looming, everything has felt too open-ended for my liking.

For once, I have no plan. My job applications have come back with nothing so far, and I worry about the future if I can't find something. My internship supervisor, Kacey, apparently put some feelers out for me after I compiled my portfolio, but she hasn't updated me in a few days. I’m starting to get worried about what my life will look like if I can’t even get a job right out of college. All the success I crave will be gone. I’ll be a failure before I’ve even had a chance to start, and my parents will have been right.

Wanting to banish those thoughts, I place some confetti around the basket on the counter, and eventually, I wander over to the bookshelves in his living room.

My fingers trace the spines of the books he has on display; I know this is just a small collection of his books he brought with him. I’m sure he’ll bring a few back from his house like he always does when he visits.

I grab a copy of his favorite book, noting the scribbles in the margins. I love that I’ve found someone who doesn't mind writing in books. Somepeople are very particular about that, but I’ve always loved to doodle my favorite lines and paragraphs. Plus, I bought them, so I can doodle to my heart's desire.

I’m not sure what time he told me he’d be back, so I put the book back, opting for another one I might start to read just to pass the time. As I do, something falls out of the spine.

That’s weird, I think to myself. Henry isn't a trinket kind of guy, at least not on the shelves out here. The ones in his room are a different story. Those are filled with figures of his favorite movie characters, including the ones I’ve bought him over the past few months.

I can’t find what dropped until a small, shiny glint catches my eye under his couch. As I reach for it and grasp it, I’m sure this isn't what it seems.

When I pull it out and open my hand, an engagement ring staring back at me from the palm of my hand, I freeze.

A small diamond sits in the center of a beautifully crafted vintage setting.

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