reply, repressing impatience. “It’s just, we’re leaving in the morning. I want to explore the city a little more. Don’t you?”
Matt looks back to Carter, who’s laughing with the other guys. Matt’s expression is pained, and the realization settles onto me.
“You’re having a good time,” I say softly, understanding what I hadn’t when I pulled him from his friends. Matt’s usually really generous and receptive to what I want to do. He’s a good boyfriend that way, and I know he’s conflicted. He wants to tour the city with me, but if he’s hesitating, it’s because he really wants to hang out with his friends too.
“Yeah, I am,” he admits. “Could we stay one more hour and then go?”
He’s compromising, and I want to feel happy and appreciative, knowing he’d rather hang out here the rest of the night. Instead, I feel the painful pull on my heart of having to compromise in the first place.
I nod. “Sure,” I say, chasing disappointment from my voice.
“I could introduce you to the guys. We could play a round together if you want?” Matt offers, obviously excited. “I know you’re good. I could use you, Ramírez.”
I don’t want to deflate his enthusiasm. I don’t want to be the girl who puts her foot down, who crushes her boyfriend’s plans. I just really don’t want to play beer pong, either.
“Maybe later.” I try to sound cheerful. “I’m going to walk around a little.”
I know Matt can tell I’m withdrawn. He watches me warily until Carter calls his name behind us. “Traverson, you coming back?” When Matt doesn’t reply, I push him lightly toward the table.
“Have fun,” I say. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”
He pauses, reluctance written on his perfect features. I muster a convincing smile, and finally he nods and rejoins the group. From the stairwell, I watch his face light up as he claps Carter on the back and picks up the game.
I’m happy for him. He’s toured schools for me, endured presentations he has little to no interest in just because I want to. I’m happy he’s enjoying himself tonight, reconnecting with his old friend, recapturing the fun they had in high school.
That’s exactly the problem, though. This is what’s important to Matt. This is what thrills him. Hanging out with Carter Wright the way they did in his basement and their baseball clubhouse, and at parties back home. Matt’s found what he wants.
Whereas I’m still searching. Still figuring out which place will thrill me.
I head upstairs, feeling forlorn. Usually I enjoy the rumbling momentum of impending changes. Not tonight. I walk up another flight of stairs to the next level, not because there’s anything worth seeing upstairs—just for the peace and quiet.
Fitz
I THROW OPEN the front door, and Juniper’s nowhere to be found. The path under the streetlight is empty.
It took me ten minutes to get outside. When I made it downstairs, I tried to maneuver through the group of girls holding drinks clustered in the foyer. Unfortunately, one rounded on me and I ended up politely trying to extricate myself from the utterly unilateral conversation. Over the thudding of the music and with the thought of Juniper distracting me, I only caught the girl mentioning some semiformal coming up this week. Finally, one of her friends beckoned her into the room with the countertop bar.
I flew to the door. Now I’m searching the quad in the cold. No Juniper.
Not giving up, I decide to check the rest of the house. From the foyer, I take the stairs two by two to the basement. I don’t find Juniper, only the wall-to-wall crowds I left when I went upstairs. But I do notice Matt playing beer pong with—Lewis. Wonderful. I check the taproom, where Lewis first took me when we got here, then return upstairs. She’s not on the dance floor, not by the bar, not near the table with the computer and speakers passing for a DJ booth. She’s nowhere.
I move toward the stairs, figuring there’s a chance I’ll spot her from the second-story window the way I did before. Maybe I’ll catch sight of