Dean didn't make love to me that night, just like he had told me. I wasn't expecting him to change his mind, he's not the kind of person who would.
Today is my last day in Jersey before I go back to California. Though, not back to Stanford, I haven't quite told my mom or dad that yet. This summer has been quite uneventful. My best friend has been off traveling with my brother since the day they got back from their honeymoon.
"Why don't you get out of the house for once, Claire? Go for a walk, it's beautiful," my dad stands in front of the T.V., looking at me.
"I have to pack," I say.
"Yes, you look like you are very busy packing right now," he sighs.
"You're not going to leave until I get out of the house...am I right?"
"Yes you are," he smiles.
I groan and stand up. I find a pair of Todd's slides next to the doors, he must have left them after packing up all of his stuff and moving to the city. That's where they live now, Todd and Harper.
They are in love in their tiny West Village apartment. Designing their new home, together.
And I'm here. In New Jersey. In gray joggers, a Noon Goons hoodie, and my brother's Lacoste slides.
I must admit the fresh air does feel nice, although, I think it would feel better if it were the California breeze.
I don't know how the hell I'm going to tell my parents about me not going back to Stanford. I mean sure- I have a job- my dream job, but that's not going to be enough for them. No job is more important to my dad than a college degree.
I get a call from my soon-to-be boss.
"Hello?"
"Hi Claire, it's Fran, from Vogue, do you have a minute?"
"Sure!"
"I know we said that you didn't have to start until Wednesday, but we actually need you to start tomorrow."
"Oh, I'm still home right now. My flight gets in tomorrow at 8 am, I could go straight from the airport."
"That would be preferred."
"Ok, i will see you tomorrow."
"Great. Bye now."
I hang up the phone and try to not let the wave of panic wash over me.
I thought I was going to have a hell of a lot more time to think about the job and what I'm going to tell my parents.
"Holly hell," I breathe and look at the ground. It's when I look up when the anxiety rushes through my body like an open dam.
Ross has just turned the corner when he notices me walking in the other direction.
My eyes go wide and his walking halts. He's wearing black jeans and a white tee shirt. He has headphones in.
All that runs through my head is how I probably look like a serious crackhead.
And then, after the crackhead thought, is when I remember that he told me loved me the last time I saw him.
"Hi," he breathes once he reaches talking distance from me.
"Hi," I respond back, subconsciously picking the navy polish off my finger nails.
"How has your summer been?" He asks.
Borderline depressive I think to myself, "fine. You?"
"Not too bad," he grins softly.
"Are you going to school?"
"Yeah, UCSB," he blushes a little.
I wince at the mention of a California school.
"I wanted to be close to Los Angeles so I could further my music," he continues.
"That's great," I nod and smile.
"And you're heading back to Stanford for year two, right?"
"Yep," I lie, "crazy how time flies."
"Right, well, it was cool to see you, Claire," when he utters my name, for the first time in this entire conversation, I feel like he isn't a complete stranger to me.
I am reminded that he is still Ross and I am still Claire. He (maybe) still loves me.
"Do you still love me?" I ask as we pass each other.
Sometimes I blurt. That's one thing I should probably reel in before I start tomorrow. I furrow my eyebrows in disgust with my OWN SELF. Why on earth would I say that? What came over me?
"There's not a damn minute where I don't love you, Claire Dyer," Ross tries to smile but it only works out to be a half smile and half frown.
I smile, "good."
He rolls his eyes and I laugh, a genuine laugh. For only a split second I feel like the 19 year old I am supposed to be. Not some character from Laguna Beach like how I'm used to.
Nausea makes its way through my body after I call my mom and dad into the family room.
"So tomorrow I'm going back to California, as you both know," I lead, my clammy hands fiddle with each other, "but I won't be going back to Stanford."
My dad's eyes are wide while my mom's brows lace together.
"I got a job as a stylist for Vogue and I'm going to work for their L.A. office! I mean Vogue! How could I pass that up?" I smile.
My mom smiles too but my dad looks as if he's just seen a ghost.
"Claire, no. This- no. Just no, you are not doing that. You are going back to Stanford and earning a degree," my dad speaks for the first time.
"I will be earning a degree! I'm just taking a year off and then I'm going to FIDM for a degree in Fashion Merchandising," I say, "I have everything worked out, dad."
"What the hell is a FIDM?" He questions.
"Fashion institute of Design and merchandising," I say.
My dad scoffs and walks away. My mom follows him out of the family room to console him.
I trudge up the stairs and start packing, feeling motivated for the first time in a long time.
My phone pings with a new message.
Ian Griswold
u in la? need my leather jacket back.
I haven't spoken to him in six months in this is the text I get? I guess it's just an insight into how we left things last winter.
Claire Dyer
No I'm not but I get in tomorrow, can I meet you somewhere?
Ian Griswold.
nah just drop it off at my hotel, they'll give it to me.
Claire Dyer
Ok what's the name of the hotel?
Ian Griswold
it's the chateau, u know i always stay there.
Claire Dyer
Right. Ok. I'll drop it off sometime tomorrow then.
Ian Griswold
thx
Of course he wouldn't want to see me.
YOU ARE READING
Bad Timing
Romance"Don't leave with him, Claire," he turns around and whines. "Why? He's nice to me! He's there for me! He likes me! Why shouldn't I leave with him, Ross? Because you're the one who wanted to screw me tonight?" "No!" "Because you're the one who want...
