The Anti-Relationship Year

by Katie Wismer

  The first Christmas present Miller had given her.

  She shook her head and headed to the bathroom to collect everything she needed for the night. Arms full of face masks and nail polish, she plopped herself on the bed to scroll through the TV for a movie. She’d finally settled on an old favorite when her phone buzzed against the blankets. Her heart sank at the sight of Miller’s name, but she didn’t open the text. It was too late now, and even if he was mad, he was too much of a gentleman to be anything but a good date to Gracie tonight. They’d have to talk eventually. But eventually could wait until tomorrow.

  She headed to the kitchen and let out a long sigh as she opened the fridge and realized she was out of wine. She opened a few cabinets, checking for any kind of liquid companion for the night, but came up empty-handed.

  Well, shit.

  A glance out the window confirmed the rain she heard on the roof, but still, she slipped on some shoes, threw a raincoat over her sweats, and headed for the door. Tonight would not be complete without a glass of wine. There was a liquor store just around the corner, and at this point, she really didn’t care who saw her looking like this. If it weren’t raining, she’d probably just walk. Today, though, she ducked her head against the rain and hurried over to her Jeep.

  The man behind the counter nodded at her as she stepped inside. A few frat guys lingered over by the beers, but other than that, the store was empty. Jo headed straight for the wine, picking up two boxes—one red, one white. She paused in the aisle and bent over to inspect a nearby bottle that caught her eye. There was something familiar about it, though it was way out of her price range, so she knew she’d never bought it for herself. It had a sticker next to it on the shelf, advertising that it was local.

  She straightened again, the pieces clicking in her head. It was the wine her parents had ordered at dinner the other night with Miller.

  The dinner Miller had still gone to despite everything that had happened that day.

  She looked down at the boxes of wine in her hands. She was being a coward. She was being a coward and a bad friend.

  “Fuck,” she muttered, set the boxes back on the shelf, and turned to leave. The sight of the person coming through the door froze her in place. The bell chimed overhead as the girl stepped into the shop, her blonde hair damp from the rain. She lifted her head and spotted Jo before Jo had the chance to react.

  “Hey.” Kayleigh walked toward her, her rain boots squeaking with each step. “I’m actually so glad I ran into you.”

  Jo stared at her, momentarily lost for words. Kayleigh had never been outwardly hostile toward her, but their interactions usually consisted of them avoiding eye contact, pretending they hadn’t seen each other, and carrying about their business. Kayleigh was definitely looking at her now, eyes wide, teeth deep in her lower lip.

  Jo shifted beneath the weight of her stare. “I—oh? Why?”

  “I wanted to apologize,” she said in a rush, the words practically tripping over each other. She dropped her gaze at the word apologize, her voice lowering as she added, “I feel so bad.”

  Jo blinked, really confused now. She’d stopped waiting for an apology from Kayleigh years ago, but whatever this was about—whatever was making Kayleigh so fidgety and flushed—it was something more than just freshman year. Jo cleared her throat. “For what?”

  Kayleigh shifted her weight and glanced at the slushy machines in the back corner, her gaze sweeping the rest of the store before coming back around to Jo, as if searching for someone to help her. “I didn’t mean to tell him…it just sort of came out. He was asking about you—and sometimes he just talks so much and asks so many questions, and I just wanted him to stop. I didn’t even think. I’m sorry.”

  “Kayleigh, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  She covered her face with her hands, her next words coming out muffled. “I accidentally told Jordan about freshman year…with Grey and everything. I really didn’t mean to, I swear.”

  Jo stared at her, her entire body tensing at just the sound of his name. “You’re the one who told Jordan.”

  Kayleigh nodded, hands still firmly pressed to her face.

  Jo shook her head, trying to clear it. “I didn’t even know that you…” she trailed off, her throat tightening too much to speak.

  Kayleigh finally dropped her hands and fidgeted with the zipper on her jacket. “I saw the tests in the bathroom trash.”

  For a moment, neither of them spoke. Jo didn’t feel anything at the revelation, not at first. The anger, however, came shortly after.

  “You knew the whole time?” Jo shook her head. “And still you…?”

  Kayleigh dropped her gaze to her feet.

  “Wow.” Jo barked out a bitter laugh. She wasn’t even that surprised—maybe hearing about it from Jordan had taken all of the shock away. Or maybe she was just done letting this drama suck her back in and take over her life.

  Because beyond the lingering string of betrayal and anger, stronger than anything else was the relief.

  It wasn’t Miller. She’d never really thought it was—she couldn’t truly believe that. But still.

  “I have to go.” Jo edged around Kayleigh, pulling her hood back up as she reached the front door. The rain was coming down harder now as she hurried to her car, her entire body trembling with building adrenaline. The rain hammered on the car as she sped back toward her apartment, the colorful reflections of the streetlights against the damp roads blurring past her.

  She looked at the clock, then at her reflection in the rearview mirror, debating whether it was worth trying to pull herself together. She didn’t even have a dress anymore—Gracie was in the nicest one she had. But if she pulled up to the reception looking like this, they might not let her in.

  She checked the time again as she pulled into the parking lot, but it was barely an hour after the banquet was supposed to start. Miller was always the type to make an appearance and leave early, but this had been important to him. She glanced up at the side of the building. The window for his apartment was dark. She still had time.

  She had just turned to grab her bag from the passenger seat when someone knocked on her window. She jumped and turned to see Miller crouched beside her car, squinting against the rain. He was in nothing but his suit, and it looked like he’d been out there for a while. He was completely drenched, his hair dripping against his forehead, clothes suctioned to his body. He swiped at his face, clearing the water from his eyes, and motioned for her to roll the window down.

  She threw the door open and stepped out. The rain was coming down so forcefully now, it was almost painful. It pounded against the cars around them, the sound of it filling the parking lot. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “What the hell am I doing?” He paused for a second and looked back toward the apartment building, his shoulders falling. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

  “Look, I should’ve given you a heads-up. I’m sorry, but I was just about to—”

  “I’m not talking about Gracie. I mean, why didn’t you tell me you were freaking out about the other night?”

  Jo met his eyes, the blood draining from her face. “I—I guess I just needed some time to think—”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me that?” He looked away and wiped the rain from his face. “You think I haven’t been freaking out over here too? That I haven’t been an absolute fucking wreck since the moment you left that morning?”

  She stared at him, speechless.

  “Fuck.” He kicked at the puddle of water accumulating at his feet and turned away.

  Panic accumulated in her chest like a tangible weight, growing and building until it pressed down on her lungs with so much pressure she could hardly breathe. Staring at his back—the thought of him walking away. Water ran down her face. Whether it was from the rain or she’d started crying, she wasn’t sure. Everything inside of her had been an absolute tangled mess since that night, but may
be it had been like that for him too. And she’d just pushed him away. Pushed him away and left.

  “Miller, I—”

  “If you regretted it, you could’ve just told me that,” he said, his back still to her.

  “Miller, no. That’s not it,” she insisted, her voice coming out shaky and thin. “It’s just—I—” She scrambled for the right words, a way to explain. “It’s not that at all.”

  He whipped back around, and in two long, deliberate steps, he crossed the distance between them and pinned her against the side of her Jeep, his hands in her hair.

  “I need you to tell me if you want this,” he murmured. “Because I can’t pretend that I don’t anymore.”

  Their eyes met, and water dripped from his hair onto her cheeks. When she hesitated, he started to pull away. But then she reached up, grabbed the back of his head, and crushed her lips to his.

  And for a moment, that’s all there was. All of the panic and second-guessing and confusion—it all went away. He was the deepest inhalation after holding her breath for a moment too long, and she was desperate for it, starving for it. She opened her mouth to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, her body responding before her mind had a chance. His body closed in around her, blocking her from the rain.

  She pulled back, just an inch, as something occurred to her. She looked up at him through wet lashes, her teeth starting to chatter. “Where’s Gracie?”

  “I took her home. She’s the one who demanded I come and find you. Very…passionate friend you have there.”

  Jo couldn’t picture Gracie standing up to Miller, or anyone for that matter. Apparently Jo’s worries about being insensitive about Gracie’s crush weren’t warranted if she was playing full-on matchmaker.

  Miller ran his hands up and down her arms as she hunched her shoulders against the cold.

  “Can we go inside now?” he murmured. “And talk about this?”

  She leaned into his chest, tucking her frozen fingers inside his suit jacket to shield them from the rain, and nodded.

  Jo’s entire body was shivering from the cold by the time they made it back to her apartment, the rain completely soaked through her clothes and chilling her to the bone. Neither of them spoke as they headed up the elevator, and Miller followed her quietly to the bedroom. He sank onto the bench beside her bed, pulling off his drenched suit jacket as she slipped into the bathroom and cranked the shower to the hottest setting. She was about to strip off her wet clothes and attempt to thaw out her body when she paused and poked her head back out the door.

  Miller glanced up at her from where he sat, his hands firmly pressed together in his lap, his eyebrows drawn together in a harsh line.

  Slowly, she raised her arm, extending her hand to him. He stared at it, the tension in his body ebbing away as he rose to his feet and stepped toward her, fingers tentatively sliding between hers. Steam filled the bathroom as she led him inside.

  “I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted.

  “I don’t either,” he said quietly, but he didn’t let go of her hand. “But I want to try to figure it out.”

  She dropped her gaze and licked her lips, trying to find the right words, trying to make enough sense of it in her own head to explain. “I’m sorry that I freaked out—”

  “I get it, Jo. I do. But I’m…” He shook his head and pressed his lips together, like he was arguing with himself over his next words. “I’m not him,” he said quietly. “And I’m not going anywhere. Even if this doesn’t work out, I’m not going anywhere.”

  She met his eyes, her throat thick. “I know.” She reached up, fingers surprisingly steady as she started to undo the buttons of his shirt. His chest rose and fell with his breath as she reached the bottom and slowly slid the shirt off his shoulders.

  “Jo,” he breathed, and then he was kissing her, his hands in her hair, her back pressed against the sink. He pulled back just enough to pull the wet sweatshirt over her head and kick off his shoes. As her sweats and his dress pants joined the growing pile on the floor, she pressed a hand to his chest, pulling away just an inch.

  “Just tell me this isn’t going to ruin everything,” she whispered. “Tell me this isn’t a bad idea.”

  He brought both hands to the sides of her face and tilted her head up to look at him. “It isn’t.”

  She didn’t know how he could be so sure, but the certainty in his voice, the openness in his eyes, it was enough to make the panicking voices in her head quiet. It was enough to make her lift onto her toes and bring her mouth back to his. It was enough to make her let herself want this. He tightened his arms around her waist, lifting her feet off the ground and carrying her under the spray of the shower, letting the steam close in around them.

  23

  Freshman Year - February

  The clock ticked steadily on the wall. Jo stared at the smallest hand as it worked its way around a full circle, then another. Dr. Radden’s pen tapped on her notebook, perfectly in sync with each second. After the second hand had made three full circles, Dr. Radden cleared her throat, and Jo’s gaze fell back to her face. She was younger than Jo had expected before entering her office, though her experience with therapists was limited to what she’d seen in bad movies. Dr. Radden looked thirty, max, with a blunt bob haircut and square glasses. She had soft, kind features, and wide eyes that made her look like she was genuinely interested in whatever you had to say. Or maybe she was. Maybe she was much more patient than Jo was. Even after sitting in complete silence for several minutes, she just sat there and waited.

  Her office was cute. Welcoming, even. She had a blue couch and two cream-colored chairs in a sort of triangle formation. Jo had vaguely wondered as she’d sunk into the couch if it was some kind of psychological test. What does your seating choice say about you?

  All of the artwork on the walls depicted beaches and sunsets. Her office was on the top floor of the building, and she had the curtains thrown back, exposing her view of the campus.

  “We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to talk about today, Jo,” she finally said.

  Jo nodded, casting her gaze to her hands in her lap. She hadn’t wanted to come here. Hadn’t even realized she’d decided to until the appointment was already made, and now here she was. It had been a couple of months since the Winter Ball. Since running into Grey. Since Miller had started dating Shay and slowly been more and more absent in her life. Since her roommate decided she was too much to deal with.

  She supposed one appointment here really couldn’t make things any worse.

  Not that she’d really had a choice. Her advisor said an appointment was mandatory if she didn’t want to end up on academic probation with the way her grades were shaping up this year.

  “Why don’t you tell me a little more about your interests and what you do here on campus?”

  Jo’s shoulders relaxed a bit. That was an easy enough question. “I’m a photography major,” she told her. “I had my own business back home in high school, so I’m trying to get that started up again over here. I’m in the photography club and doing photography for the school newspaper.”

  “Well, that’s great. It seems you know exactly what you want to do.”

  Jo nodded. “It’s always been the same for me.”

  “And is that what most of your friends do?” she asked. “Have you met them all through photography?”

  Jo paused, the word friends getting stuck in her head. The first person who came to mind was Mare, her best friend from childhood. But she was all the way at UC Davis. The second person was Miller, who seemed just as far away these days. There were the girls from the photography club who she’d partied with a few times, but they didn’t do much together sober. Her relationship with Addie and Liv had gone from acquaintances to straight up avoiding each other now.

  And Kayleigh had transferred rooms out of the blue a few weeks ago, not even bothering to tell Jo until the day she was moving out. Everyone had congratulated her on
being one of the only freshmen with a single now, but all Jo could think about was all of that empty space. And why Kayleigh had hated living with her so much that she went out of her way to move. She probably had been a downer to be around lately, spending more time in bed, less time going out.

  They hadn’t spoken since Kayleigh came to get the last of her things.

  Jo stared at her hands again. “I guess I’m kind of lacking in that department at the moment.”

  Something nudged her knee, and she looked up to see Dr. Radden holding out a box of tissues. It wasn’t until then that she even realized she was crying.

  “I guess that might be part of the reason I’m here,” she said quietly. “The year started off so well, and it feels like it’s all kind of falling apart now. And everyone just went on without me, and now I don’t know what to do.”

  Dr. Radden nodded sympathetically. “A lot of people find that the first friends they make their freshman year don’t end up being the friends they stay with all through college. It’s very normal. Can I give you some advice?”

  Jo wiped her face with the tissue and laughed. “I’m all ears.”

  “It sounds like you might have all of your eggs in one basket. And it’s great to know what you want to do. But why not open yourself up to some more opportunities? Try some new things—you’ll meet different people that way, maybe even find something you like as much as photography. There’s actually a brochure on the first floor, right by the door, with all of the clubs and their contact information. You should grab one on your way out. Or maybe consider adding on a minor that you’re interested in.”