If You, Then Me
Page 30
How do you know if things are getting better when you feel like you’re in the exact same place that you started? I went out to a late lunch with Amina and her family, then spent the rest of the afternoon packing to go home. I had mixed feelings about it—part of me dreading going back to Worcester, part of me relieved. I was tired of pretending to be an adult, of making decisions that had bigger repercussions than I’d ever imagined and having to live with the fallout. That night I slept fitfully. I dreamed I was in my bedroom in Worcester, tearing down all the clippings of Mitzy that hung over the bed, removing all of the California paraphernalia until the walls were bare. Even my inbox was empty, with no ObjectPermanence to talk to. I was starting life anew.
I spent the next day away from my computer, packing and trying to soak up my last moments in California. When I finally logged on, I found two new messages waiting for me. The first was from ObjectPermanence.
NEW MESSAGE FROM U/OBJECTPERMANENCE:
If I’m honest, the reason why I never wanted to tell you my name was because I was ashamed. I was ashamed of the way I stood quietly when AJ humiliated you for breaking his drone. I was ashamed of how silent I was in class and at parties when he mocked and embarrassed you. I’m ashamed of the way I participated in his cruelty and apologized for it. Even though I didn’t know you were here then, deep down I felt that you’d be able to see it when you looked at a picture of me online or read a description of what I was doing—that you’d know I wasn’t who I said I was.
I wish I’d told you sooner, but I guess now is as good a time as any to start fresh. Maybe in a different life we’ll have more time.
Take care of yourself, okay?
Mike
I felt a pain in my chest and had to close the window before I second-guessed myself. It was the right decision. Or maybe there were no right decisions, only choices that you made the best of because that’s all we can do.
The second message was from a man named Simon Garthwell at Redwood Capital.
Dear Ms. Chan,
I was impressed by the demonstration of your app, Wiser, at the Foundry’s Venture Capital Showcase. It was fresh, well-executed, and shows potential for a number of different growth opportunities.
I’d love to hear more about where you hope to take it and would like to bring you in to the office to meet some of my colleagues and discuss a potential seed funding opportunity.
Best,
Simon Garthwell
Partner, Redwood Capital
I read it again, my heart pounding, and had to fight the urge to wonder if it was a joke. No, Simon Garthwell was a real person whom I’d heard of, with a real email address that looked awfully legitimate. Was it possible that I was getting a second chance?
I opened a response window and stared at the screen, trying to figure out what to write back, when my phone vibrated. It was Mast.
>7:00 p.m., Ocean Beach. Bring a coat
I blinked, unable to believe that he was texting me. The tone was impossible to read, and I had to remind myself to breathe.
I checked the time. It was six o’clock. I closed my laptop, threw on a jacket, and called a car.
The sun was setting as the driver sped up the coast along the Great Highway and pulled in front of a long stretch of dunes swaying with sea grass. I got out and trudged through the sand until I caught my first glimpse of the waves.
The sun had cracked over the water, spilling out into the horizon in oranges and purples. Ocean Beach was on the western side of San Francisco, where the air was cold and wet, like a cloud blown in from the ocean.
The beach was mostly empty except for a few surfers drifting on the swells. Mast was sitting on the sand facing the water, his sunglasses reflecting the sky. A brown paper bag sat on the beach beside him. I took that as a good sign.
I walked toward him, unsure of what he was going to say. What if he’d asked me to meet him so he could tell me to my face that he couldn’t forgive me? That he wanted to say goodbye?
He was wearing a red hoodie, beneath which I could see the back of his neck ripple as he turned to me, beautiful and golden like sand.
He took off his sunglasses and gazed at me, his eyes wide and searching, as if looking at me made him sad.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey. May I?”
He nodded and I sat down next to him and looked out at the water. Neither of us spoke for a long time.
“It’s a surfing beach,” Mast finally said. “It’s cold and churning and has a strong undercurrent. It isn’t for beginners.”
I waited to see where he was going.
“People don’t come here because it’s beautiful or has perfect conditions. They don’t come here because it’s romantic. They come because they love surfing. Because they want the challenge and they can’t stay away. Because they love it.”
Mast turned to me, his eyes soft and yearning as they took me in. “That’s why I like it, too.”
“Are we still talking about surfing?” I whispered.
“No.”
“Are you saying I’m cold and churning and spit men out on a whim?”
He grinned. “I’m saying I love you. Every part of you. Even the hard stuff.”
I felt everything inside me unfold.
He leaned toward me and pressed his lips to mine. The wind blew around us, kicking up the sand, making our clothes billow, but I barely noticed the cold.
“If you,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against mine.
I felt the salt on his skin as our breath mingled. I smiled. “Then me.”
Acknowledgments
This book would not have been possible without the help and guidance of my agent, Ted Malawer. I’m so lucky to have you.
I’m forever grateful to my editor, Katherine Tegen, and to Sara Schonfeld, for helping me make this book better than I ever could have on my own, and for taking a chance on this story and on me. Also to Molly Fehr, Amy Ryan, Mary Auxier, Laura Harshberger, Bethany Reis, Jennifer Moles, Cara Norris-Ramirez, Valerie Wong, and the entire team at HarperCollins.
Many thanks to Julia Yellow for the incredible cover art, and to Michael Polycarpou, Paul Col, and Mitchell Spector for helping me write about programming without sounding like a total noob.
I wouldn’t have had access to this world without Rebecca Autumn Sansom, the Weidhaas Family (who bear no resemblance to their eponymous characters), Lynda Mortensen, and Bay Area Pet Pals—the best dog walking company in Silicon Valley.
Thank you to Sara Davis, Michael Stearns, the Col-Spector Family, Jessamine Chan, Yvonne Miaoulis, Anna Kurien and Jacob Thomas, Lauren Bamberger, Jackie Meyers, Emily and Alex Straffin, and Hannah and Griffin Col.
And finally, I couldn’t have written this book without my family: Nananda Col, Chee-Wai Woon, and Akiva Freidlin, who provided shelter, food, childcare, and emotional support while I wrote.
Thank you.
About the Author
Photo by Shirin Borthwick
YVONNE WOON, holds an MFA from Columbia University and is the author of the Dead Beautiful series. Originally from Massachusetts, she spent three years in Silicon Valley, where she worked as a dog walker for tech magnates. Other than writing, it was the best job she’s ever had. She currently resides in Atlanta, Georgia.
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Copyright
Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
IF YOU, THEN ME. Copyright © 2021 by Yvonne Woon. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyrig
ht Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
www.epicreads.com
Cover art © 2021 by JULIA YELLOW
Cover design and lettering by MOLLY FEHR
Digital Edition JULY 2021 ISBN: 978-0-06-300866-3
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-300864-9
2122232425PC/LSCH10987654321
FIRST EDITION
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