Chapter 30: : Chapter 30

17 Days Before the Trip, 6:23 p.m.

“I’m breaking up with her tonight,” I tell B. J. We’re on the phone, and I’m waiting for Courtney to come over to my house. “I can’t keep doing this. It’s ridiculous.”

“Okay,” B. J. says uncertainly. “But I don’t understand why you can’t just tell her.”

“I could just tell her,” I say. “But the thing is, B. J., what if she’s never supposed to find out? What if this thing with her dad and my mom runs its course, and what she doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt her unless I tell her?”

“Well,” B. J. says, “if she’s never going to find out, then why would you break up with her? It’s not going to hurt anyone. Especially if she’s going to start giving it up. Don’t give up a piece of ass just to spite your face.” He sounds smug.

“I’m not even going to address that,” I say, leaning back in my chair and running my fingers through my hair. “This is going to be bad.”

“Damn straight,” B. J. says. “I hope she doesn’t go psycho.”

“Thanks,” I say sarcastically. “You’re such a good friend.”

“Hey, I’m here for you, bro,” he says. “But I think you’re making a mistake.”

“She loves me,” I say. “And I can’t be with someone who loves me when I’m lying to her. I’d rather have her hate me for thinking I’m a typical male asshole than by keeping something so important from her.”

“Does she know it’s going to happen?” B. J. asks.

“I told her we needed to talk tonight,” I say, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “So I think so.”

“You’re a better man than I am, dude,” B. J. says. “And may the force be with you.” He clicks off, and I stare at my phone incredulously, partly because the fact that my conversation with B. J. is over means I’m going to have to deal with this whole Courtney thing, and partly because my best friend is quoting Star Wars when I’m in the middle of the biggest romantic crisis of my life.

Five minutes later, Courtney knocks on the door to my room. “Come in,” I say, putting up an away message on my instant messenger that simply says “Away.”

“Hey,” she says. She’s wearing a pair of red-and-white-checked shorts and a strappy red tank top. I can see the straps of her bra peeking through, and her hair is up in one of those sloppy ponytail/bun things girls always wear. She looks sexy.

“Hi,” I say, not moving from my computer chair. She sits down on my bed and looks at me expectantly. Things with Courtney and I have not been the same since we got back from Miami. I’ve been slightly avoidant of her, and she’s been standoffish with me, too. Once I didn’t say “I love you” back to her, and once she made it clear she was ready to sleep with me and I didn’t act on it, it’s been awkward between us.

“Listen,” she says. “I don’t know what’s going on with us, but I’m starting to feel really horrible about it.” She bites her lip, and I look away from her. If I have to look at her, I’m not going to be able to do this. And it needs to be done.

“I don’t want you to feel horrible, Court,” I say truthfully. “And I don’t want things to be weird between us.”

“I’m sorry about Miami,” she says. “I shouldn’t have put pressure on you to have sex with me, and I shouldn’t have told you I love you. I’m just…I just…I just got caught up in the moment, and I’m sorry.”

I want so badly to take her in my arms and tell her it’s okay, that I love her, too, but I can’t. I look away, and don’t say anything.

“But it doesn’t have to change anything,” she rushes on. “It’s not a big deal. I mean, I don’t need you to feel that way about me. Everything can go back to the way it was before, it doesn’t have to be different. It doesn’t have to change.”

“It does change things, though, Courtney,” I say, still not looking at her. “It does.”

“It only does if we decide it does,” she says. A note of worry has crept into her voice, like she knows this is something that can’t be fixed, but it’s for a different reason than she thinks, and it’s killing me. “It doesn’t matter to me, Jordan, really. I just want to go back to the way things were before.”

“I can’t,” I say simply. “Courtney, on the beach I realized that I don’t want to be tied down right now. I want to be able to be young and date other people.” Oh, my God. I sound like a really old, annoying uncle who’s trying to convince someone they should date while they can.

“You want to date other people?” she asks, her voice cracking a little bit.

“I’m not a relationship person,” I say, shrugging. I still can’t look at her, because I know if I do, I’ll lose it.

There’s a moment of silence, a pause, and I expect her to start screaming, or maybe to beg me to change my mind, or to start crying or something. But instead, she gets up from my bed and walks out my door. In a way, it’s almost worse than a big scene. Because now she’s probably never going to want to talk to me again. I wait until I hear the front door of my house shut before I give into it and start to cry.