Page 83 of We Are the Stars

“I know, Carsen, but we have to.”

I nod. “We have to.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I think if things were different, if the timing were right, we could have had something great.”

“I know, Elliott. I know.”

The words hang between us for far too long. Wecouldhave had something great…if we were both honest. We weren’t. She needed a distraction. I was one. I needed to fill a void. She helped. It was a relationship of convenience. We were two people who didn’t have any business getting into something, yet we did.

And now we’re paying for it.

“This sucks.”

“I know.”

“How is this going to work at Down the Lane?” she asks.

“I can quit if you’d like.”

“No, don’t do that. We can make it work. We’ll stay out of each other’s way. Hell, we’ve practically done that the whole time we’ve worked there together anyway. We can keep doing it.”

“We can.”

She holds her hand out and I link my fingers with hers. She rests her head on my shoulder and I lay mine on top of hers.

“I’m sorry this didn’t work out, Elliott.”

“I am too, Carsen, but I suppose it’s written in the stars, right?”

I don’t say anything back.

And that’s how our friendship ends.

***

Elliott

You know that feeling when you discover something that surprises you? Those butterflies in your stomach flutter excitedly and your head spins in the best way possible—it’s a strange kind of magic, right?

That’s how I felt when I first kissed Carsen, when that first spark between us hit me.

Today I feel an indefinable sadness, like I lost someone who was meant to be in my life, and I very well could have. But, for right now, it’s what needs to happen. I’ll have to carry this ache in my chest with my head held high. It’s all I can do.

When I finally return home after having my last breakfast with the boyfriends, the first thing my mom does is cry over my bruised head. My dad doesn’t ask questions. Instead, he marches out of the house with a scowl. We don’t see him for hours and when he returns, his scowl is still there and he closes himself up in the garage.

I have no idea what happened.

Eventually I tell my mother what transpired the night before.

“Have you talked with Jase about what’s going on with him?”

“Honestly? No. Based off the texts he’s sent me this summer, I don’t want to. Morally, I probably should, but Mom, I can’t. He’s so beyondmyJase right now that I’m not sure where to start.”

She nods. “I think you should still try, just to get closure.”

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