Page 40 of Searching for Nova

Kevin glances at me. “How much you want to bet he ditches us for Liza?”

We both look back at Jace as he leans against the bar, the phone to his ear. “Not tonight. It’s guys’ only. Kevin and Easton are here.” He pauses to listen. “I know, but we already made plans.” He nods. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be there. Bye.” He puts his phone down on the bar and drinks the rest of his beer.

“You’re seriously leaving?” Kevin rolls his eyes. “I thought you were breaking up with her.”

“I am, just not tonight.” Jace tosses his empty bottle in the trash. “You guys can stay here. Drink as much as you want. My dad won’t care as long as you’re not driving. Oh, and Easton, Liza said Paris is coming over.”

“Over where?”

“Here. She wants to talk to you.”

“Fuck,” I say with a sigh.

“Just leave before she gets here,” Kevin says.

The doorbell rings from upstairs.

“That’s her,” Jace says, checking the security camera on his phone. “You want me to get rid of her?”

“No.” I head to the stairs. “I need to end this.”

When I open the door, Paris is standing there with tears in her eyes. They’re fake tears. She uses them after every fight.

“Easton.” She lunges at me, her bony arms going around my chest.

“Let’s talk outside,” I say, pulling her off me as I go out to the porch. It’s early November and probably only 40 degrees, which is why I insisted we talk outside. Paris hates the cold so she’ll be forced to keep whatever speech she’s about to make short.

“We need to end this,” she says, wiping her tears.

“I agree.”

“You do?” she says, sounding hopeful. I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing.

“Paris, I don’t think we—”

“I know.” Her eyes widen as she looks up at me. “I feel the same way. It isn’t worth fighting about. Let’s just forget about last weekend and go make up.” Her hands go to the belt on her coat. It’s a trench coat, one I’ve never seen her wear. It’s dark out, but the porch lights make it bright enough for me to see she’s not wearing a shirt under the coat. She smiles as she undoes the belt.

“Wait,” I say. “Keep it on.”

“I will. I just wanted to give you a little peek.”

“Paris, we need to talk.”

“We did, and we made up.” She grabs my shirt. “Now kiss me and make it official.”

“It’s over, Paris. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?” Her flirty smile becomes an angry frown as she narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t you dare try to break up with me!”

“I thought we already did. You haven’t talked to me for a week.”

“We were on a break,” she snaps.

“And during that break, I realized I didn’t want this. All we do is fight and break up and then get back together and do it all over again.”

“We’ve only broken up three times,” she says, putting her hands on her hips.

“Three times in two months, four if you count that time I didn’t get you the bracelet you wanted.”

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