I hadn’t meant to go there, but my fantasies were traitors, constructing the life we’d have together with such insidious detail that my daydreams seemed almost more real than my actual humdrum life. I’d sit behind the counter at Mr. Zoo’s, and my stupid brain would spin tales of swoony romance, corny inside jokes, easy domesticity, and, um, other stuff. Like, okay, fine: sex stuff.
It wasn’t just Will, though. It was the promise of a future that was different than anything I’d let myself imagine. Freedom. Possibilities. Hope. When a letter from the financial aid office came a few weeks later, I’d torn it open without a second thought, a rush of pure happiness shooting through me at the purple NYU logo.
The gut punch of despair hit me as soon as I processed the contents of the letter: that they were only giving me enough financial aid to cover about a third of NYU’s extremely pricey tuition. My fist tightened unconsciously, along with my stomach. I forced myself to smooth the letter out again and slide it back into the envelope, but every hope I’d let myself have was crumpled as easily as that crisp, watermarked paper.
And talking to Will was a reminder of everything I couldn’t have if I didn’t want to go into astronomical debt. Because though I felt sure that somehow Will was my destiny, there were some things that even destiny couldn’t justify. I’d missed the hell out of talking to him, but it had just been too painful. Instead, I’d thrown myself into classes at the community college, determined to do well enough that the next year I’d get a full financial aid package and could roll up in New York with everything perfect. Just the way it was meant to be.
But now I was here, and every fantasy I’d had of Will being part of my life was stirring again, the slow unfurling of dormant seeds growing up through the ground to meet the light. I thumbed through my contacts to the end of the alphabet, even though he was already one of the five numbers in my Favorites.
Will answered just when I thought the call would go to voice mail, his clear voice electrifying me.
“Hey, kid. Get mugged yet?”
“Ha. How bad would you feel if I actually had gotten mugged?”
“At least a four out of ten.”
“So, um, I’m here. Wanna hang out?”
Wow, that sounded like I was about ten. Can Will come out and play?
“I’m at work,” he said, sounding vaguely amused.
“Oh, right.” I had lost all sense of time. My stomach flipped, and I couldn’t think of anything to say. It suddenly seemed imperative that I see him.
Voices were audible on Will’s end of the conversation for a minute, and I thought I heard Will sigh. “Um, okay, do you want to meet up at my place later? Sixish?”
He gave me directions, but they got immediately jumbled in my relief and excitement about seeing Will in only a few hours. I had already failed at Resolution 3—Memorize the subway map so you don’t get lost and have to ask for directions constantly—but I had GPS on my phone so whatever.
As I lay back down and stared up at the bright blue sky, I realized I was grinning.
IDEALLY, THE first time I saw Will in New York, I would’ve breezed through the door looking… I dunno, cute. Like, irresistibly cute. Instead, the back of my hair was flattened from riding with my head against a bus seat for twenty hours, my shirt was stuck to my spine with sweat, and my hands were dirty from sitting in the grass. I was also fairly certain that I’d stepped in something unspeakable on the subway, and I’d gotten dripped on by the air-conditioning units as I approached the building.
God, why hadn’t I at least showered before coming here? My hands were so sweaty my thumb nearly slid off the button when I buzzed Will’s apartment.
“Stairs are on your right.”
Through the crackle, Will’s voice was as clear and sharp as always, like even static had no power over him.
Whenever I’d pictured Will living in the city, I’d imagined his apartment building looking like the ones on TV: as modern and shiny and stylish as he was. But the building was… well, ugly. Brown and square and kind of lurking back from the sidewalk like it was embarrassed by its ugliness. And it was bizarre that he lived behind one of these doors, each exactly like the next, when he was completely different from anyone I’d ever met. But when he opened the door, he was so vivid it was like the whole apartment building had been made ordinary to better set him off, like a jewel in a plain setting.
When I’d been around Will for multiple days in succession in Michigan last winter, the effect had worn off a little, like I’d been inoculated. Now, seeing him again, I was so struck by the lines of him that it felt like I was falling. I was staring at him in what was probably a gooberish way, but he was so damn beautiful. Beautiful in an obvious way that everyone would agree on. Beautiful like I couldn’t always concentrate on what he was saying because his words got lost somewhere around the curve of his full lower lip that dipped toward his sharp chin.