Still not into you - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,34

SUV before I’d ever do that.”

“I thought those things were a requirement,” Dylan says, flashing me a smile. I laugh. This is the first time we’ve smiled since last night. It feels good to do it again.

“So, you think we can get an annulment instead? What is that exactly?” I ask.

An annulment sounds more reasonable than a divorce. I mean, we were really drunk. This was a mistake. How can our situation be subject to the same thing as people who have been married for years? Shouldn’t there be some sort of special clause for accidental weddings?

“I don’t really know,” Dylan says with a shrug. “From what I’ve seen on TV, I think it’s some sort of alternative divorce for people who were coerced into marriage.”

“Hmm, well, maybe we were coerced. We drank too much. We can’t be held responsible for this,” I say.

“I’m not sure it works that way.” He nods. “This is Atlantic City. If everyone said that they were drunk and should get the opportunity to get a do-over, none of the casinos would be in business anymore.”

“I guess not,” I say.

“As soon as we’re back, I’m going to find out exactly what an annulment is and whether we can get it instead of a divorce,” Dylan says. “But before we do that, we have to make a promise to each other.”

“Didn’t we already do that?” I joke. “Promised to love each other through thick and thin? For richer and poorer?”

Dylan cracks a smile.

“Look where that got us,” he says. “Okay, let’s promise each other that we’re not going to tell anyone about this. I mean not anyone. Not Hudson. Not Peyton. Not even friends back home. Until this is all resolved.”

I look straight into his eyes. They twinkle under the harsh fluorescent lights.

“I promise,” I say with a nod.

“I promise, too,” Dylan says. For a second, we dance around possibly giving each other a brief hug to solidify the promise. Instead, we settle on a handshake. It’s more professional. Less intimate.

“Oh, and don’t forget to text Juliet and Tea and Tanner and tell them what we’ve decided. We can’t have Hudson and Peyton finding out any of this by accident,” Dylan says.

I nod and get my phone.

20

I arrive at Dr. Greyson’s office on a cold February day. The clouds hang low in the sky and the world is so gray and colorless, it feels like it’s in mourning. The trees on campus stand stark naked, without a leaf in sight. It is on days like these that I miss the sunshine of Southern California the most. I miss the mountains and the endless blue sky. I try to remember what it’s like to not feel claustrophobic all the time—from both the tall buildings and the low sky, but I can’t. It has been more than a month since I’ve been home and a month of clouds and grayness makes it hard to remember anything. Sitting in Dr. Greyson’s waiting room, I wonder if I can even make it here four years.

“I feel like this weather is making everything in my life worse,” I complain to Dr. Greyson.

She’s wearing a gray pantsuit and black heels. I glance down at her feet. A little bit of her olive skin is exposed between the end of her shoe and her pant leg. It’s barely twenty degrees out and I wonder if she wears these shoes outside or if she has boots or sneakers hiding somewhere underneath her desk, which she changes into on her way home.

“What do you mean?” Dr. Greyson asks.

“It’s just so cold and gray. It has been like this for more than a week and it just makes me so depressed. I don’t know if I can live here for four years.”

“Well, February does tend to be the coldest month. Luckily, it’s also the shortest month,” Dr. Greyson says.

I look at her. There’s an unusual amount of pep and optimism in her voice, but it quickly disappears when she finally realizes what I’m really saying.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Alice?” she asks, pursing her bright red lips. They are large and perfectly lined. I wonder how she gets her lipstick to stick the whole time. If I wear lipstick to one of these sessions, it’s usually completely gone by the end, but hers remains intact, bright and perfect, as if she had just applied it.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “It’s just something I’ve been thinking of recently.”

“What?”

“Transferring.”

“Transferring out of Columbia? To go where?” Dr.