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“—and that is so far beyond my budget. I’m not even going to apply.”
“They don’t do scholarships?”
“Not really? They’ll give out partial rides, but there’s just no way I could swing it, even with a partial scholarship.”
I didn’t mean for us to veer into postgrad talk. I hate thinking about what’s next for me and Jessie. I know I’ll spend the next few years bouncing around. I want to chase opportunities. Maybe I’ll do that for a few years. Maybe for the rest of my life. Whatever I do, I know it won’t be close enough to the most stable relationship I’ve ever had in my life.
“N44.”
I have this one, but Jessie doesn’t.
“Where do you want to go to grad school?” I ask. “Or do you want to skip grad school, dump Mac’s ass, and travel around the country with me while I do shows at various regional theaters and support us with my social media accounts?”
“Tempting,” Jessie says. “But as a backup plan, I’m looking at Boston, Northwestern, and Penn.”
“Does Mac know that’s where you want to go?”
“He does . . .”
“But . . .” I prompt.
“I40.”
Both Jessie and I have this one.
“I don’t know. We don’t really talk about it,” she admits.
“That seems healthy.”
“You’re one to talk,” Jessie scoffs.
“B11.”
Neither Jessie nor I have this one on our boards, and neither Jessie nor I have anything to say. We’ve both called each other out, and we both have things we’d rather push aside, and we both know it. Our silence says all the things we’re not saying.
“O69.”
“SIXTY-NINE!” the entire crowd erupts. There’s a chorus of cheers and whistles. Some guys stand up on their chairs and thrust their hips aggressively. A group of girls in the back moans loudly. I join the group and nudge Jessie, who blushes a deep shade of red. Someone definitely yells, “OOH, DADDY,” but everyone quiets the moment Gertrude repeats the number. She doesn’t even blink at us.
“You never act up for sixty-nine,” I say, marking it off on my board. Jessie also has this one on hers.
“I’m a lady, Jade.” She pretends to clutch a pearl necklace she isn’t wearing and bats her eyes at me.
“A lady of the— You know what? That’s not even a funny joke. You’re not a lady of the night. You’re a lady of the library. Lady Booksy. Lady Nerd.”
“Are you trying to insult me? It’s actually not working. These are the nicest things you’ve ever said to me,” Jessie says.
“O68.”
Both Jessie and I stamp for this one.
“You’re close to winning,” Jessie says, pointing to my board.
I hadn’t even noticed. I just need one more spot in two places.
“It’s my lucky day,” I say, genuinely excited at this development. Considering what a drag our conversation hasbeen, this is the exact reminder I needed that I’m here for one thing, and one thing only: to have fun. Ian, my mom, and the future can wait.
“N41.”
