Livvy (2 page)

Standing up quickly, I decide to walk the well-lit block around L-Dub. I bite the inside of my lip–hard–until it hurts. I’d hoped to distract myself from thoughts of him, and the pain makes my eyes water. I’m not crying because of him. I’m crying from the pain.

I stopped crying for him weeks ago.
Breathe, Livvy.

“Breathe, Olivia.” I hear his voice in my head. I lean against the brick wall and bask in the memory of Mykonos. On our first night together, I held my breath in nervous anticipation as he settled his body against mine. I hadn’t noticed how still I’d become, but he had.
How could we share what we did, Jon? How could you walk away from us?

I force myself to continue walking, coaching myself to inhale and exhale as if I’m learning how to do it for the first time. On the backside of the building, a street lamp shines on a set of steps in between flower beds. I sit down and take my phone out of my purse, wanting to talk to someone.

“Little Liv?” my uncle answers.

“Hey, Matty,” I say, attempting to sound chipper.

“How was it? Is it over already?”

“It was fine,” I answer him.

“Fine? Not good enough,” he says quickly. “Next!”

“Matty,” I laugh.

“Move on. Don’t waste your time.”

“I’m not!” I say, still smiling.

“It wasn’t horrible, was it?”

“No. It wasn’t. He was nice. I just didn’t feel anything for him.”

“Nothing at all?”

“No.” I sigh in frustration. “Matty, what if I never feel anything for anyone else again?” I tuck my head into my knees, trying to hide my emotions from anyone who passes by.

“Livvy, sweetie, you will.”

“Because you were able to?”

“Exactly,” he says.

“How is Nolan?”

“He’s hot, Livvy.” I can tell that his new boyfriend is with him by the way he says it. I’ve seen pictures of them together, and he is definitely attractive. “He’s good,” he says more seriously.

“You still like him?”

“I do,” he says quickly. “We’ll have to take you out next time you’re in Manhattan. We’ll show you a good time. We’ll find you a guy.”

“One that likes girls, though, right?”

“One that likes one special young woman,” he corrects me. “I’m on the lookout. I don’t see you with some letter-sweater collegian, Liv. Your guy’s in Manhattan.”

“I know he is,” I tell him definitively, referring to Jon. He catches on immediately.

“Livvy...” I can hear his pity, but I decide to stay quiet and not address it. “I’m proud of you. Going on these dates... it’s a good first step, even if you’re still in the crawling phase.”

“Thanks, Matty. Call my dad and tell him I made it home safely, okay?”

“You don’t want to talk to him?”

“Not really. I just want to scream and rant and hit things right now, and I know Dad wants me to move on more quickly than I’m ready to.”

“He just hates to know you’re hurting.”

“I’m not hurting anymore,” I tell him. “I’m mad as hell. I’m mad that he could just forge ahead and pretend like we were never anything more than acquaintances. How could he not even call me?” I stand up and start to head back around the building, waiting for my uncle to answer me but also anticipating his silence. How could he answer that, anyway? “I’m gonna let you go. I have roommates who will want all the details.”

“Have a good night, Little Liv. I’m proud of you for putting yourself out there.”

“Love you, Matty.” I tuck my phone away as I enter the building, waving hello to my resident advisor, Tim, as I pass by his room.

“Livvy!” he calls out to me. I turn around and walk back to his open door. He’s still seated on his bed, but moves his laptop to the side. “I haven’t seen any of your work in the basement gallery.”

“I know, I know–”

“You said you’d help brighten up the place. I’m counting on you.”

“I’ll bring something from home this weekend, I promise.”

“Excellent.” I smile as I back away. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” I lie. “I just got back from a date.”

“Good or bad?”

“It was... neither. And for the record, I’d prefer either over neither.”

“You like a little drama, huh?”

“I do.” I nod my head. “I’ve got an early class.”

“Go get some sleep.”

“Thanks, Tim.” As I walk away, I listen as his door closes softly. I can hear Rachelle and Katrina laughing at something on TV from the hallway. Rachelle was the first roommate I met. We both moved in the same day, and figured that Yale had strategically put us together. She’s nineteen and comes from a wealthy family, too, from upstate New York. When we met Katrina the next day, though, we were surprised to hear about her high school years, where she and her mother spent a lot of time in and out of shelters in Oklahoma. Like me, Katrina had skipped her sophomore year. She’s only two months older than I am, but has experienced more than most people I know that are much older.

Katrina was fascinated by stories that Rachelle and I traded, but I was equally enthralled in learning more about her. So far, the three of us get along quite well.

They’ve left the door unlocked for me. “Hey!” I say, feeling an immediate blush as their eyes shift to me expectantly.

“Well?” Rachelle asks.

“It was... it was fine, I don’t know.”

“Better than your date with Heath?” she follows up.

“Marginally, I guess. Wayne didn’t spill a milkshake on me, so...”

“But just fine?” Katrina asks.

“Yeah,” I tell them both, shrugging my shoulders. “I don’t think I’ll go out with him again.”

“Not everything can hinge on one date,” Rachelle says. “Sometimes you need to get past the awkward first to really get to know someone.”
Am I writing them off too quickly? How many dates are guys supposed to get?
Suddenly, I start to question my method. Maybe I’m doing this wrong.

“But there was no spark,” I explain meekly.

“I hate that,” Katrina says. “Meeting a guy, thinking he might be someone special, and then you kiss him and there’s nothing there–”

“I didn’t kiss him,” I clarify. “I had no desire to kiss him.”

“Really?” Rachelle asks. “How can you have no desire to kiss a guy that hot?”

“He ate foie gras,” I tell them, giving them the same excuse I gave to Wayne.

“Disgusting,” Katrina says.

“What’s his number?” Rachelle asks, giving me a sly grin.

“Yuck, you can have him,” I joke with her, finally taking off my coat and sitting on my bed.

“Sure, give me your cast-offs,” she says. “But I’d rather start with that one you left in New York. He was so sexy.”

I smile at her, and try to be casual about her comment. I can’t hold it against her. I haven’t told her anything about Jon. The only things she knows about him are the things she discovered online when she found out we’d be roommates. She’d apparently spent an afternoon trying to learn more about me.

“Wait, which one?” Katrina asks. “Jon or Finn?”

“Either,” my older roommate clarifies.

“Guys, Finn’s like my cousin–I mean, we’re not really related, but he’s family to me. I had a concussion and I didn’t know what was going on when that happened.” Not only do I have the memory of that horrible day when I kissed Finn, the moment lives on forever in pictures and videos on the Internet. They make me sick to my stomach to even think about. I lost my best friend
and
my boyfriend in a span of five seconds.

“And Jon?” they ask in unison, laughing at their joint curiosity.

“I’ve just known him since I was little.” I downplay our relationship, picking up a text book off of my desk and thumbing through the pages. “Did you guys study for our psych test already? Because I could use a little help.”

“That’s Katrina’s forte.”

“Sure, Liv, what are you having problems with?” She sits on my bed next to me with her back against the wall, and we start looking over some of the behavioral theories in the book. I zone out as she speaks, though, remembering the days when Jon would tutor me. I didn’t really need his help, but he made everything make more sense. Fortunately, I already understand our psychology homework. I just want a distraction.

I’d hoped schoolwork would be that distraction tonight. Like every other night, though, my focus returns to Jon.

CHAPTER 2

The following night, my roommates and I go out for pizza at a place just off-campus. A lot of our classmates are there, listening to an eclectic mix of alternative and Indie rock. I definitely enjoy the music, but I cringe every time there’s a break in the songs, hoping they don’t play anything by my favorite band, the one we saw last New Year’s Eve.

I’ve been lucky so far.

“So who’s next?” Rachelle asks.

“What do you mean?” I laugh, knowing what she means.

“We live vicariously through you,” Katrina says. “Four guys have asked you out. Who’s taking you out next?”

“You guys have been asked out,” I remind them both. Neither were at all interested in their potential dates, though: twin brothers from Minnesota who were shorter than us all. I roll my eyes at them, embarrassed by the attention. “Manny,” I tell them.

“Which one’s that?”

“Sorry,
Emmanuel
,” I correct myself, remembering that he didn’t like his nickname anymore. “The TA from our Intro to Photography class,” I tell Rachelle, who’s in the class with me. She perks up immediately.

“He’s so mysterious,” she explains to our other roommate. “And intense. When he looks at me, I melt.”

“He’s changed a lot since my first visit here,” I tell her. I hardly recognized my tour guide when I first saw him in class. He passed out our syllabi and gave me this weird smirk when he handed me mine. I had shyly looked away, but he stopped me after class, asking me how my boyfriend liked the picture he’d taken of me.

Since last fall, he’d shaved his head into a short mohawk that most guys couldn’t pull off, and he had gotten his cartilage pierced on both ears. He may have always had the tattoos on his right arm, but I don’t remember them from my college tour. He definitely looks a little dangerous now, whereas back then he was pretty harmless. Back then, he was someone I didn’t look at twice.

Just as quickly as he’d found out I had a boyfriend that first time we’d met, he found out that we had broken up. Emmanuel wasted no time, asking me out as we walked to our next classes. I was caught off-guard, but flattered. I didn’t hesitate with my answer. I’d told him I’d love to.

He was far from familiar, but it was easy to talk to him and to be around him. He didn’t make my stomach flutter in nerves, but I liked it when he’d work with me in class and walk with me around campus. He felt like someone I wanted to trust.

“When are you going out with him?” Katrina asks.

“Next Thursday.”

“Why not this weekend?” Rachelle asks.

“I’m going home again,” I tell her. I’m surprised she doesn’t expect my answer. I’d gone home all three weekends since I moved here.

“Livvy, you have got to start staying here with us some weekends. There’s so much happening that you’re missing out on!”

“I know, but–”

“But, what? Your mom and dad will survive without you.” She’s one-hundred percent right, but I don’t bother to tell her that both of my parents have been trying to convince me to stay in New Haven for the weekend, too.

“I know, it’s just... I paint a lot on the weekends,” I tell them both. “I have a studio that overlooks Central Park. It inspires me.”

Katrina looks at me sideways, challenging me. “I bet we can find someplace beautiful and inspiring here, too–”

“Like Emmanuel’s bedroom!” Rachelle says as her jovial laugh drowns out the driving chorus of the song that’s playing. Katrina slaps her on the arm, but giggles with her. “You’ll tell us how beautiful and inspiring he is in the bedroom, won’t you?” she says, lowering her voice to a loud whisper.

“I don’t think I’ll be finding that out next week,” I tell her, forcing a smile and playing along. The thought of being with someone else–well, it’s a thought I don’t even want to have. If that’s what he wants from me...

There’s
the nervous stomach.

“I bet he’d like to show you, though,” Rachelle says. “My god, he’s sexy.”

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“Oh, don’t get all bashful on us,” she says.

“Rachelle, leave her alone,” Katrina argues playfully, careful not to come off too serious.

“Thank you,” I tell Katrina smugly.

“But we will be the first to know about the bedroom, right?” she tacks on quickly.

“I hate you both,” I tell them as I grab another slice of pizza.

“Next weekend, Liv,” my older roommate says, “you’re staying in New Haven if I have to tie you to the bedpost.”