Page 23 of Not Another Yesterday
I pause. Not because I don’t know the answer, but because I’m afraid of it. “Hopefully she’ll understand that this is something I have to do.”
Things have been slightly tense between us ever since my grandmother showed up, and it’s completely my fault. All of it. I still haven’t opened up to Cat about it, still haven’t told her about the nightmares. And yes, Cat deserves to know what goes on in my head, but I can’t. I can’t tell her about the dreams, can’t tell her that I fear losing control, that I’m terrified of repeating history. Saying it out loud… it’s like speaking it into existence. Maybe if the thoughts stay locked away in my head, I can keep destiny from fulfilling itself.
And I haven’t told her about Rashana, either.
Just last week, Rashana hunted me down in the library at Columbia. I was studying for my econ final when she slid into a chair right across the table from me. I threw her a look that should have properly conveyed my unwillingness to talk to her, but she didn’t budge. She just sat there, quiet, occasionally looking up at me, while I tried to focus on whatever the fuck I was reading, then rereading and rereading again. It got so uncomfortable, I slammed my laptop shut, shoved my shit into my backpack, and marched out to the courtyard. I was counting on Rashana to follow me, and when she did, I rounded on her.
“You need to stay the fuck away from me,” I barked at her, and immediately felt guilty when she jumped back.
“Ronan, I promise, I’m not the enemy. I’m just trying to write a good story. And I think I could give y—”
I chuffed at her. “Thisstoryyou’re hounding me about? That’s my damnlife. It’s not fucking entertainment. It’s not apieceyou get to use to get an A in your damn class or find a sweet fucking job after graduation.” I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Please, I’m begging you, leave me alone. Write a different story, find a different subject. I don’t care. Just… leave me alone.”
We stared at each other a moment longer. When she didn’t respond, I turned to leave.
Cat doesn’t know about any of this.
Cat
I don’t think I ever truly realized that romance doesn’t always mean bunches of roses, chocolate-covered strawberries, and big declarations. And then I met Ronan who, even with the smallest gestures, makes clear to me how much of his thoughts I occupy, even when we’re not in the same room.
One of my favorite things is when he randomly calls me at three o’clock in the afternoon to check if I’ve eaten recently. I tend to forget to eat, then have dizzy spells from low blood sugar. And I love blinking my eyes open in the morning to a text message from him, usually containing only two words: “Morning Baby.” To know I’m his first thought upon waking is peak melt-my-panties-right-off-my-body.
And that’s exactly what I wake up to this morning. My eyes briefly take note of the time—it’s just before ten—then drop to the text message Ronan sent… over two hours ago? Good god, this guy doesn’t sleep even when we’re on Christmas break. Always on the go, always with a mind that won’t let him rest.
I open the message and smile at the intimate familiarity of it.
Ronan:
Morning, baby. Call me when you’re awake.
My smile slips at his request for a call. For some reason his message feels ominous.
I dial his number as I get out of bed and walk to the small bathroom.
“Hi baby,” Ronan answers, his voice silky. I swear I can feel his hands accompanying his verbal caress. I know we’re young—some might even say too young for feelings this big—but oh my god, I love this boy.
“Hi sweet boy.” I get out of my pajama bottoms, then turn on the shower to allow the water to warm up.
“Were you able to get a good night’s sleep?” Ronan asks.
“Yes. I actually just woke up.”
“Nice. Are you feeling more rested?”
Finals were taxing these past couple of weeks, and I’ve needed more than one night of solid sleep to recover.
“Yeah, much better. Are you driving?” The background noise and the slight distance in his voice are clear indications that he’s in his Mustang.
“Yeah. Actually, I need to talk to you,” he says, hesitantly.
Ominous.
“Okay? Is everything alright?”
“I got a call from Randi this morning.”
I stare blankly at the tiled bathroom wall before I realize he’s talking about his ex-girlfriend.
