Diana Peterfreund - Rites of Spring (Break)

Because it hurt him so much when you did it.

“It’s not like what happened with us, Lyds.”

“You’re right. It’s worse. Because Brandon and Felicity had a real relationship that you’re messing with. Amy, you’re the other woman . Things never end well for the other woman.”

“I’m not! I told you, we’re not doing anything.” Not really.

Lydia was just shaking her head at me, disbelief rolling off of her in waves. “Right. All those hours in there, bedroom door closed, lights off, no sounds. Bet you’re studying, huh? Bet whatever it is you’re doing, you’d do it in front of your mother, in front of his girlfriend, in front of anyone who cared to watch, and you wouldn’t think twice about it, it’s so aboveboard.”

I swallowed. How had this turned from I’m worried about you to an indictment of my behavior? “There are a lot of things I wouldn’t do in front of my mother that are perfectly aboveboard.”

But Lydia was on a roll. “Come on, Miss Digger. You of all people should know that the things you do in secret are private for a reason.”

That was it. I stood, turned, and marched toward my bedroom.

Lydia called after me. “Amy, come back!”

I turned around on the threshold. “Please, Lydia. You of all people, with your well-researched secret society factoids, should know what happens when you drop the D-bomb in front of me.” Lydia knew everything about societies, enough to have convinced me all last semester that she was in one. And when you used the name of a society in front of a member, they had to leave the room.

“Only when you feel like obeying that rule,” she replied. “You usually just thumb your nose at all of them.”

Oh, now we were getting down to it. Not only was she appalled by my current romance, but she was also going to get all bitter about the way I chose to handle my society membership. Couldn’t I do anything right in Lydia’s eyes? Was I not so perfect as her darling Josh? He may have buffed up his relationship outlook for her benefit, but he wasn’t a better Digger than I was, yellow sneakers aside.

“I really think that you should pick one thing at a time to be mad at me about.”

“I’m not mad,” she practically shouted. “I’m concerned .”

“You’re butting in is what you are,” I practically shouted back. How dare she say such awful things about Brandon? Of course he was going to break up with Felicity! She clearly didn’t know him at all.

“Weren’t you storming out of the room in your little society huff?” my best friend said with a sneer. “Or should I help you along? Rose—”

“You’ve made your point.”

“Don’t think that this conversation is over. I’m not the only one who’s concerned about what’s been going on here.”

“I really wish your boyfriend would stay out of my love life.”

“Funny. I bet Felicity wishes her boyfriend would stay out of it, too.”

I slammed the door between us.

The next morning, there was an e-mail from Lydia in my in-box. (You know you and your roommate are in a fight when you get e-mails from the other side of the suite.)

From: Lydia.Travinecek@eli.edu

To: Amy.Haskel@eli.edu

Subject: Last night

Honey, I don’t know how everything deteriorated last night. I certainly wasn’t looking to pick a fight with you. I’m sorry if you took my attempts to be a good friend the wrong way, because that’s all I ever want to be for you. I love you and will always stand by you, even if I don’t agree with your choices and no matter what kind of petty squabbles we have.

Love,

Lydia :)

Hmph. If she wants to be taken seriously in politics, she might consider nixing the smiley faces. And so like her to try to get the last word in, too!

Though, true to form, the more I began to ruminate on Lydia’s words, the more I started to question the status quo with Brandon. I figured I was only being fair by not asking for clarification. After all, last year, when we’d actually been sleeping together, I’d kept Brandon on the hook for several months . What was a week, by comparison?

Still, I couldn’t help running my mouth at our next get-together. Brandon was standing behind me, supposedly checking the essay I was editing but concentrating more on the neck massage I’d asked for. I’d even planted two spelling errors in the first paragraph, but he hadn’t noticed.

“How’s Felicity?” I asked, apropos of nothing and in the most innocent tone I could muster.

His hands stilled on my nape. Rule broken. “Fine.”

“Are you still dating her?” The words fell like bombs, shattering our arrangement to bits.

He sat back on the bed. “I thought I wasn’t…that first night. You have to know that.”

“And since then? How can you think you’re not?” I asked. “Aren’t you smart enough to determine something like that beyond a reasonable doubt?”

“It’s not that simple, and you know it.”

Hadn’t I just made this argument to Lydia? So then, why did it suddenly feel so hollow?

“The day after…” He gestured to the bed. “She came and apologized. She loves me, Amy. She loves me. And I…care about her, too. So she made me promise. That I’d…think about it.”

“Think about not breaking up with her?” I asked. “Or think about getting back together with her?” There was a subtle but important difference.

He looked away.

I joined him on the bed, sitting as close to him as our unspoken rules allowed. His hand rested on his thigh, and I covered it with my own, splaying my fingers so that their tips spilled over onto his jeans. “I’m sorry,” I said, softly, sweetly . “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

But I wasn’t sorry. My fingers moved in a subtle caress of his leg, and I watched him carefully to see how he’d respond. His back stiffened, his gaze flew to my hand. It had been a mistake, I realized, not to press the issue. A mistake that Brandon himself had made with me last year when I’d been the one unsure of where I wanted our relationship to go. I’d learned something from his failure: Don’t take amorphous for an answer.

“More than anything, I don’t want to put you in a tough position,” I went on, and slipped my arms around him. I dropped my head to his shoulder and snuggled into one of our new, almost-over-the-line hugs. I ran my hands up and down his back, wondering what he would do if I slipped them beneath the hem of his sweater to touch his bare skin.

No, I didn’t want to make his choice difficult at all. I wanted it to be so easy to pick me. And now I realized that if I wanted to, I could force a decision right here. I held him tighter. “This is so nice.”

I felt his breath against my hair, and his lips brushed my temple. “Amy…”

Am I evil? No. So he had a girlfriend, marginally. Temporarily. So what? I don’t know her. She’s not a friend of mine. I don’t owe her anything. I was with Brandon first, had known him far longer. And the way he says my name…no one says it like that. He could never say her name like that.

I felt him put his arms around me, felt his fingertips trailing along the waistband of my jeans, into the gap between the top of my pants and the bottom of my sweater. I felt his hands at the base of my spine, covering the Rose & Grave tattoo I’d put there the weekend he’d broken up with me. As far as I knew, he’d never seen it.