Deep End(109)

His eyes narrow, but I take a firm step away.

“Let’s talk tomorrow,” Lukas tells her. Not a suggestion. “Scarlett and I—”

“It’s okay. I need to use the restroom.” I smile, too, and exchange another hug with Pen on my way out.

“So happy that you’re back,” she whispers.

“Me, too.”

The door closes behind me, and I tell myself that there’s no reason for the nausea floating in my stomach. They’re friends. Lukas has made it clear that he’s no longer romantically interested in her.

I snake my way through the crowd, but there’s lots of alcohol flowing, and no one notices me. I’m zonking out. Swaying. When I close my eyes, waterfowl honk into my ear.

It’s shitty, leaving a party without telling anyone, but I call an Uber. In the back seat, I shoot Lukas a quick text, and that’s when the floor flips out from underneath me.

His renamed contact reads LUKAS SCARLETT.





CHAPTER 56


I’VE BEEN HOME FOR ABOUT AN HOUR, SHOWERING AND UNPACKING and scowling at the chore chart Maryam crafted in my absence, in which all activities are magically listed under my name, when I hear a knock.

Lukas stands tall in the doorframe, hands in the pockets of his jeans, dark circles covering his freckles. Serious and tired and silent.

I don’t know what to say, so I stay quiet.

There’s no reason for him to be here.

No reason for me to let him in.

No reason to take his hand and guide him to my bedroom. No reason for any of this, but still I burrow into the curve of his throat, and fall asleep with his scent in my lungs after just a few seconds.





CHAPTER 57


THIS WINTER QUARTER I’M TAKING THE LIGHTEST POSSIBLE academic load, to offset training and championship season travel, which is all going to happen between the end of February and May.

Pac-12.

Zone E meet.

If I qualify: NCAA.

It should feel overwhelming, but on the first practice after Amsterdam it just . . . doesn’t.

“I didn’t medal, which is disappointing,” I tell Sam during our catch-up session. I’m over my block, and there is no overt reason for me to continue therapy, but talking to her helps me put everything into perspective. “But I’m not going to let it define me. I’m excited about the season. I’m ready to be as strong as I can be.”

Sam smiles, which will never not look weird. “I’m very happy for you.”

“Sorry about Saturday night,” Pen tells me later in the locker room. “I felt bad about kicking you out. I just needed to talk to Lukas. ”

“Everything okay?” I ask, even though I’m not sure I want to know. The three of us, our relative positions, the sum of our degrees . . . I don’t want it to feel like a love triangle. And I don’t want to be left out when it flattens into a line.

“Yeah, I just needed him to know . . .” She looks vaguely upset, so I take a seat next to her. “It’s Theo. Hot Teacher.”

“Oh.”

“He broke up with me, Vandy.” Her voice cracks a little in the end. I stare, not quite processing.

“He . . . what?”

“He said that—I don’t know, something about how we needed to take a step back, because he wasn’t sure that we worked together, and that sometimes I felt too young for him, and . . .” Her eyes are bright with tears. “I mean, it’s fine.”

She looks anything but fine. “I’m so sorry, Pen.”

“I cannot believe that he just decided that it was over and left, like I’m a SoulCycle class. We spent Thanksgiving together. I met his sister and his friends, and he got me a necklace, and . . . I was at his place every weekend, Vandy. We did so many things, and now . . .” She shakes her head, somewhere between pain and anger. “Anyway. It’s over. I wanted to tell Lukas because . . . well. He’s still my oldest friend.”

My heart beats in my stomach. “And what did he say?”

“Nothing much. Said it was Theo’s loss. Patted my back. Told me I’ll find someone new soon. Nice, but distant. After Theo, I’d forgotten how cold he can be. Honestly, sometimes I wonder how Lukas and I even managed to get together to begin with, all those years ago.”

Because he’s not distant. Or cold. “Have you ever considered . . .” I start.

“What? ”

I gather my words. “He mentioned what you did for him when his mother passed. And he helped you out with Carissa.”

“Yeah?”

“Is it possible that you two mostly bonded over your respective trauma, and then entered a romantic relationship on the wave of that, without . . . ?”

Her eyes search my face for so long, I start wondering if I’ve overstepped. And maybe I did, because she lets out a small laugh, a little watery, and asks, “Are you saying he didn’t love me?”

“No. I know he did. And he still cares about you. I just wonder if . . .”

If he didn’t love you the way you want to be loved.

If that was so painful, you decided to tell yourself that Lukas simply isn’t capable of deep romantic feelings.

If maybe you only know certain little parts of him, and completely ignore the rest.