Livvy (3 page)

“Maybe this Emmanuel guy would like that,” Katrina says, causing them both to erupt in laughter again. I glare at them as I chew my dinner.

I ask Rachelle to drop me off on campus before they head to a local outdoor mall. It had been awhile since I’d had any time to myself, and I couldn’t wait for that hour alone in our dorm room. I’ve learned to appreciate moments of privacy, finding that I have so little of it these days.

I retrieve my overnight bag from my closet as soon as I get back to the room and start packing for the weekend. I don’t bother gathering up any clothes, knowing I have more than enough to wear at home. I pay special attention to my favorite paintbrushes, wrapping them carefully to keep the bristles straight. I pull the baseball jersey I’d promised to buy my brother out from under the bed and tuck it in the corner of my bag. My phone rings as I’m putting my toiletries in their case.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Dad said you called earlier. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m just getting ready for the weekend. I finally have a few minutes to myself.”

“Are you girls not getting along?”

“Oh, no, we are!” I tell her. “It’s just nice to have some quiet time, to think.”

“Gosh, Liv, I’m pretty sure you got a lifetime’s worth of ‘quiet time to think’ over the summer–”

“Mom,” I start to warn her. Both of my parents were sad about the outcome of my relationship with Jon, but they were both ready for me to move on, and had been very vocal about it toward the end of the summer.

“So,” she says, obviously changing the subject. “Matty says your date didn’t go so well.”

“It was fine,” I tell her. “I didn’t expect it to be earth-shattering.” I tell her the highlights, and she agrees with my assessment that he’s not the one when I tell her how many times he dropped my name to total strangers.

“I don’t know if Dad told you,” she tells me, “but he and I are going to a fund raiser tomorrow night. Your brother’s staying at Steven’s.”

“That’s fine,” I tell her quickly, looking forward to having the house to myself.

“Well, I was thinking that maybe you should stay there tomorrow night and drive home Saturday morning.”

“No, I’m already packed,” I tell her. “I’ll be fine, Mom. I’ll find something to do. You guys don’t need to entertain me every second I’m home.”

“Does Rachelle go home on the weekends?”

“No, but I’m not Rachelle,” I tell her, mildly frustrated. “I want to see you guys, and I want to see Manhattan. I miss the sounds.”

I hear her laugh lightly into the phone. “I can understand that,” she says. “If you’re sure you don’t mind us not being here.”

“Not at all, Mom.” Maybe Jon will call me tomorrow, out of the blue. Maybe I’ll get a chance to give him a piece of my mind. I wrote love notes all summer, but I have a lot more things to say to him now that he pushed me away at Columbia and hasn’t even bothered to call. Maybe he’d even apologize.

Maybe I should stop getting my hopes up that impossible things are going to happen.

“Have you given any thought to your birthday?” she asks.

“I think I want to have a party at the loft. Maybe just the cousins... maybe I’ll invite some friends from here to come to the city for a night.”

“Ummm...” she hesitates. “We can talk about that this weekend.”

“I mean, of course I’ll spend some time with you guys, too, Mom. I didn’t mean to not include you.”

“I know, Liv. We’ll work it out this weekend.”

“Okay,” I tell her, hoping that I hadn’t hurt her feelings. “I love you, Mom.”

“We love you, too, Livvy.”

“Tell Dad hello,” I tell her.

“I will. Good night.”

In truth, Jon was the only one I’d ever planned to celebrate with on my eighteenth birthday. No matter what I do, it won’t live up to the expectations I’ve had since my sixteenth birthday, my first birthday as his girlfriend. We’d waited so long for this milestone.

After packing the last of my things, I set my bag aside and pull out the small box from my desk drawer, removing the ring from its cushion and putting it on my finger, where it belongs.

He made me promises. He vowed to never take me for granted. He was going to make every moment with me the best it could be. He would never let me forget that I was the best choice he’d ever made.
Choisie
. I touch my chest, in search of the necklace I no longer have.

I never even got a chance to explain myself. If he never read the letters, he’ll never understand how much I care for him. Does he really think I like Finn? After all, most people accept the concussion explanation. Even I believe it, because I have no other logical reason for what I did that day. I was desperate. I was confused. I was angry. I know I was all of those things, but to share a kiss with another guy... and not just any kiss.
Our
kiss. To do that, it’s obviously unforgivable in his mind.

It was just a horrible mistake!

I start to cry, and once I start, the angry tears fall quickly and freely and the sobs cut off my breathing. I haven’t cried like this in weeks. I’d hoped it would make me feel better, but it doesn’t. I start to wonder if anything will.

“Livvy?” someone calls out to me from the hallway. Realizing people can hear me through the door, I try to calm myself quickly, but I don’t respond. “Livvy? Are you okay?” Tim asks.

“Yeah,” I tell my RA, my voice hoarse. I hear him try the doorknob, but I locked it when I came in.

“Can you open up for me?”

“I’m fine,” I tell him, trying to hide my emotions. I know it’s not working and drag myself off the bed to let him in. I trudge back to my pillow, hearing him walk in softly behind me.

“I either have to have another girl come in here with us, or we have to leave the door open,” he explains. “Which would you prefer?”

I stare at him blankly, not wanting to talk to
anyone
.

“You don’t trust a lot of people, do you?” he asks.

I look away, down at my hands, watching my fingers pick away the purple polish I’d put on them.

Tim finds a box of tissues and brings them to me. He leaves the door open and pulls my desk chair closer to the bed, leaving only about a foot between us. He speaks with quiet concern. “You should talk to someone, Livvy.”

“I can’t,” I tell him, wiping my nose without an ounce of grace or poise. “I don’t know anyone here that I can talk to.”

“Do you know how many guys would love to have some time with you? Who’d do anything to be the person you go to?”

“I don’t care,” I tell him, not at all impressed with his attempt to compliment me. “They don’t know anything about me. They know about tabloid articles and rumors. They know about my money. They don’t know me. They can’t like me if they don’t know me.”

“I don’t like you,” he says. I look up at him, moderately surprised at his admission.

“Thanks. I’m not too fond of you, either,” I say spitefully, even though it’s not true.

“No, I mean,” he stutters. “Livvy, I see how you try to avoid half the guys in the hall–and they still track you down. They still follow you like lost puppies.”

“I don’t encourage it,” I tell him.

“I know you don’t. But you’re all these poor, lonely guys think about. But I want you to know that I’m not like them.”

“Okay,” I tell him, shrugging my shoulders.

“I have a girlfriend. I love her.”

“Good for you.” When I look down again, I remember the ring. Hoping to not draw attention to it, I cover it with my right hand and slide it off slowly, the movements barely noticeable. My legs crossed beneath me, I tuck the jewelry in my shoe to hide it.

“I want to help you. You need someone you can trust. It must suck to have to constantly question everyones’ motives–”

“My dad taught me well–”

“I’m sure he did. But Livvy... let down your guard a bit. Let someone in.”

“Why? I mean... I don’t know what you think I need.”

“Your dad spoke with me before he left campus a few weeks ago. Your parents are worried about you. He mentioned there was a guy... someone that was special to you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”
He
doesn’t matter anymore.

“Sure it does. I mean, your first chance to be alone, and you’re locked in your room crying.” He puts his hand on my sneaker and squeezes my toes. “Do Katrina and Rachelle know about him?”

“They know
of
him.” I shift positions, pulling my knees into my chest so he’ll move his hand off of my shoe. “They don’t know how I feel about him,” I admit. “They think he was just a fling. Because of what happened with my friend, they don’t think either relationship was serious.”

“This was the, uh...” He hesitates, and I can tell he’s unsure if he should admit what I’m sure he already knows.

“The guy I kissed. The guy I kissed that
wasn’t
my boyfriend.”

“You had a concussion?” I nod, but look away when I do, still feeling guilty about my actions. Concussion or not, the kiss with Finn was intimate and it hurt Jon more than he had words to explain.

“You still love him? The boyfriend?”

“Ex,” I correct him. “Can you hate and love someone at the same time? Because I think I do.”

“Livvy, if you love–”

“Surely you’re not going to tell me to set him free. Please don’t be that cliché. He’s free. He’s been free for almost four months, and where has that gotten me? Nowhere. It just makes me angrier and angrier, with each day of silence.”

“Hey–”

“And who do you think you are, prying into my life like this?”

“Your dad asked me to keep an eye on you. That’s all. I don’t mean to pry, and if you feel that I am,” he says, but doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he stands and pushes the chair back under my desk.

“I just can’t talk about it, Tim.”

“I hate to tell you this, Livvy,” he says, “but you just did. And it’s a good start.” I study his expression, examining him hard to see if he’s sincere. He certainly looks sincere. I muster a small smile for him, silently thanking him. “Don’t forget you put the ring in your shoe.” He hands me the little box that I’d set on the desk.

My cheeks burn when I look away. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. I mean it.”

“Okay.”

“I hear your roommates down the hall. Want me to close the door?”

“It’s okay. Leave it open.”

“Alright. Get some sleep, Liv.”

“Good night.”

Rachelle and Katrina are whispering to one another when they come in. “Can we close the door?” Katrina asks.

“Sure,” I say, turning quickly to put the box back in my desk drawer and hide my face in the process.

“Tim, too?” Rachelle asks.

“Tim, what?”

“Was he hitting on you?” She sounds exasperated and annoyed.

“No,” I tell her quickly. “We were talking, that’s all.”

“You okay?” Katrina walks to my side of the room, looking at me closely.

“I’m fine. Just homesick.” It’s not entirely a lie.

“Well, we got something for you.”

“You guys didn’t have to get me anything.” Rachelle pulls something out of a bag. “What is that?”

“Sparkling wine,” she says.

“In a
can
?”

“It’s a nice disguise, right? It’s good. I promise.”

“Are we celebrating something?”

“No, it’s to get us in the mood.”

Her grin is mischievous. “I’m scared to ask.” She nudges Katrina, who produces a bottle from a different bag. She hands it to me. “Hair dye?”

“You like it?”

“It’s blue.”

“We think you look good in blue!” Katrina says, digging into the bag and pulling out two more bottles. “Rachelle’s going green. I’m going pink.”

“I’m not going blue,” I state, still studying the bottle. “How long does this last, anyway?”

“Since your hair’s kind of dark, probably a few weeks. Or sooner if you wash your hair more often,” Katrina says. “I mean, you won’t get anything pierced. You don’t want a tattoo–”

“Yet,” I add. I’d like one when I can think of something I want on my body permanently. I wonder if Jon regrets his. I wonder how he’ll explain that to another girl. I wonder if he’ll just say it’s his favorite Shakespearean quote and never mention me.
That’s the easy way out, which I’m sure he’ll take.

“You don’t have to dye all of your hair,” Rachelle says, walking toward me. She nudges me off the bed and pulls me to the mirror with her. “Just, maybe, this little swoop.” She takes a section of of my bangs. “It would look awesome.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Just some strands,” she says, taking her long tresses in her hands. I wish I hadn’t cut my hair. “I think I might use a little of all the colors, though.”