Terrible.
I shrug. “I miss you, but I think that’s supposed to happen. Right?”
Her knees knock into mine. “Is it supposed to hurt this badly?” Her voice cracks.
I kiss the top of her head. “I don’t know.”
She leans her cheek against my shoulder. “Maybe I should…should I just…I could transfer to Pe—”
“No.” I stop her before she says Penn. “You’ll be harassed every day by paparazzi.”
“Then NYU, it’s not too far a commute from Cobalt Inc.,” she mutters.
“No,” I say, my chest on fire. I’d love to agree with her. To say sure. Yes. Please fucking come home. But I couldn’t live with myself. I couldn’t wake up with her in my bed, knowing she’s sacrificed something for my shitty existence.
I’m not meant to be fully happy. I’ve known that since I was little and my brothers were shoving me to the ground.
I’m cursed. It’s just the way it is. She doesn’t need to share in this damn thing.
Willow pushes her glasses up with her wrist.
“Wakefield is your dream,” I say. “You have friends there. You have a life. Don’t start over for me. That’s the last thing I want, Willow.”
“Okay.” She breathes heavily. “But you’ll come out next semester like you promised? I want you to meet my friends and see my dorm and the campus.”
“I promise. I’m there.”
She exhales and takes a small bite from her pizza. “Something cool kind of happened.”
“That’s perfect because I’m in need of some cool. Working at Cobalt Inc. is literally the antithesis of cool. Most of those guys are pencil-pushing pricks.”
Her lips rise. “Well, it’s probably not that cool. Your expectations should lower a smidge.”
“Lowered.” I wave her on.
“Okay, so you know how second-year students usually room off-campus?” Willow sits up a bit more to meet my gaze. “I didn’t think anyone would ever ask me to be their roommate. But Sheetal, Tess, and Salvatore asked.” She smiles, almost blushing. “They’re getting this four-bedroom flat in the city and needed to find a fourth. Pretty cool, right?”
Happiness radiates off her. She has real friends in London, and that’s big for Willow. I want to be the kind of person that’s happy for her happiness.
But I hear the name Salvatore and my blood turns to tar. She’s going to be living with him next year. The guy with the awesome accent and Vampire-Diaries-adjacent name and stylish haircut. The one who could’ve raided my brothers’ closet.
He’s going to be living with my girlfriend while I’m thousands of miles away.
Great.
Awesome.
So fucking happy about it.
I want to mention my feelings, but they’re insignificant. Because Salvatore is just her friend, and she’s going to say that to me. And I’m not about to ruin this good, happy thing in her life because I’m the paranoid motherfucker.
So I layer on a smile. “That sounds awesome. A lot of fun.”
I must do a shit job because she’s shaking her head like she can hear the sarcasm that I seriously can’t control.
“I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry.” She sets her plate on her lap and winces, her head hanging. “I wasn’t thinking. It’s anything but cool. You’re living alone, and I didn’t mean to rub it in that I’m…”
Shit.
“Hey.” I lift her chin, so she’ll look at me. “I’m not upset that you have friends and I don’t. I’m happy you feel included in London and not ostracized or whatever.”
“You have friends,” she argues with tears in her eyes.
I’m saying all the wrong things.
“You’re right. I have you,” I say quickly. She is my only friend.
My words don’t help. She’s shaking her head.
I cup her cheek in my hand. “You can’t worry about me. You have to just live your life in London, Willow.” Am I pushing her away? I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. My insides twist, and speaking is starting to hurt.
Her tears spill over my fingers, but I don’t stop holding her. She says, “You know what I learned in the four months we’ve been apart?”
A lump lodges in my throat.
“I’m unable to not worry about you,” she says in a tight breath.
Something sits on my chest. Heavy. I want it off. Off. “I love you,” I say. “But you have to, Willow. Because you’re not going to be happy if you’re just constantly worried that I’m not having a good time here in Philly.” I want to say that I’ll make friends, but I’m not planning on reaching out to random people and accidentally grabbing a fame-leeching parasite.
I want to say that I don’t need any friends, but I don’t want to lie. I hate being alone.
Hell, I also hate having friends.
Like I said, I’m cursed.
She sniffs. “Lo told me something like that.”
Of course he did. “What’d he say?”
“That I have to let you get used to the long-distance. That I can’t do anything to make you feel better.”