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“I still can’t believe he got you baby-shower flowers,” Jessie says with a snort.
“I still can’t believe he wouldn’t sleep with me,” I say.
Jessie just rolls her eyes. She knows I don’t mean it. “I wouldn’t have slept with you either if I were him!”
“I still can’t believe you wouldn’t sleep with me given the chance,” I say, mock-offended.
“I still can’t believe you haven’t asked me if I’ve heard from any grad schools yet,” Jessie says with a restrained smile.
I’m a little taken aback by the abrupt change of subject, and once my brain catches up to what she said, I have a moment of panic. If Jessie’s hearing from grad schools already, it means she’s going to be making decisions soon. As her best friend, I’m obviously thrilled for her, but selfishly, I don’t want graduation to be a reality yet.
“Girl, it is the first day of October. I knew you were applying early, but you’ve already heard back? Who is making decisions this early?” I try to keep my tone bright and excited for her, but I feel like she can see through it. If she does, she doesn’t acknowledge it.
“Middle Penn College,” Jessie says with a sly smile.
“Oh my god,” I say with an eye roll. “Well, duh.”
“I know, I know. Kind of a shoo-in. But the grad programs here aren’t great for what I want anyway, and Mac doesn’t want to stay on the East Coast, so it doesn’t matter.”
Relief rushes through me like a flood. It’s not a final anything, and it’s nothing set in stone. That’s when things get real: when people start confirming plans and saying yes to things. For now we’re still in the in-between, and I can still pretend like this year will never end and Jessie and I will be roommates forever.
“Why did you apply then?” I ask.
“An easy yes. Gives me the confidence to apply to more places and hope they’ll say yes too.” She shrugs.
“Well . . . a yes is a yes is a yes. And you’re terrible at celebrating. So you know what this calls for?” I ask.
“Jade, no. You don’t?—”
“I do,” I say and riffle through my backpack until I find the small confetti popper I carry around. I let out a whoop and pop it right onto Jessie, and she stands there, eyes closed, arms limpat her sides, as brightly colored confetti rains down around her, landing in her hair and on the sidewalk. I giggle maniacally, and Jessie tries to fight a smile.
“Who is going to clean this up?” she asks, using her sternest voice.
I shrug as she shakes her head to try to loosen the confetti from her hair. It cascades down over her shoulders, adding to the brightly colored confetti on the sidewalk.
“What are we celebrating?” Ian asks, approaching me and Jessie. He’s once again wearing black jeans, a graphic tee, and a denim jacket, like one of those guys who just owns multiples of the same items of clothing to reduce decision fatigue.
I can’t deny that he’s an attractive guy. He’s got a jawline that could cut glass, and the way his hair flops into his face is cute. Every time I see him, he gets a little bit more attractive to me, like he’s an acquired taste. It’s something I’ve never experienced before. Usually, I’m into someone or I’m not, but we had a blocking rehearsal last week where Anastasia went over all the physical movements we have to do in the one-act, and for the first time, I noticed his arms. How, despite his lean frame, the low lighting in the black box theater accentuated the lines of muscles he probably has from hauling heavy light fixtures around. Or is it his work ethic shining through that I’m finding attractive? Even though Ian and I haven’t talked about our failed hookup or anything surrounding it, I could tell at the blocking rehearsal he meant what he said that night in my apartment: he’s committed to working hard despite not being thrilled about acting.
It’s probably his arms.
“We are celebrating how smart my best friend is,” I say, turning my attention back to Jessie as I pick confetti out of her hair.
Jessie cuts her gaze to Ian. “Hi. I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet properly the other night. I’m Jade’s roommate?—”
“And best friend,” I interject.
“And best friend,” Jessie says with a laugh. She holds out her hand to Ian, and they shake. “Jade was just— I told her I got an early acceptance to the grad school here at Middle Penn.”
“Oh, congrats. What’s your major?”
“Psychology.”
“Hello,dahhlings,” Anastasia says as she breezes past us into the building.
“British again?” I mumble.
“That’s probably our cue to head in,” Ian says.
