Where You Are

“I do tend to prefer black.”

“You should meet Emily. Black is ninety percent of her wardrobe.” She gnaws her lip for a moment. She’s been a bit pensive the past few of days when we talk, and I find myself wishing I knew her better, so I’d know if she’s worried or upset, or if she’s just got something on her mind.

“I definitely need to meet Emily,” I say. Wanting me to meet the childhood friend, the best friend, the like-a-sister friend is the equivalent of me taking her to meet Cassie. “Maybe after the premiere—”

“I was thinking—”

We both stop. “Go ahead,” I urge, hoping she’ll tell me. “What were you thinking?”

She sighs and looks down, probably picking at her fingernails—something she does when she’s nervous. “I was thinking I could… maybe…” She sighs, and I wait.

Out with it, Emma. Just tell me.

“How would you feel if I move to New York early? Like, before the end of summer?”

My answer comes in a rush, uncontainable. “I would love that.” I try to remain calm, as though we’re discussing some mundane order of business. “How early are we talking about?” I’m envisioning her here, in my city, in all the places that—five minutes ago—were just familiar landmarks of my life.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe next month? I don’t know how long it would take to find an apartment…”

I almost tell her I can start looking tomorrow. Tonight. Screw the party.

But then I recall scraps of our conversations about her desire to do the normal-girl thing, and I wonder if getting an apartment has too much to do with me. I don’t want her to give up a single thing she wants or needs, because she’s had to do that for far too long. I swallow my selfish excitement and say, “I thought you were determined to live the whole dorm experience?”

A slight crease mars her forehead. “Since NYU doesn’t really have a campus, the dorms are all over Manhattan anyway. I thought having my own apartment would be more private…” This is because of me. Because of us. “You don’t agree?”

My inner Graham is roaring just say ‘yes, I agree,’ you dumbass, but I shove what I want aside. What I want doesn’t matter. This is her college experience. She’ll only do it once, and then it will be over. Having graduated today, I know this. Cara was born two months before I began college, so I never even considered leaving home. I was lucky that home was New York City, and my academic record got me into the Ivy League school I wanted to attend.

“I don’t know, Emma.” I force a contemplative expression onto my face. “You should definitely think this over. Even if the dorms aren’t clustered on a traditional campus, there are all-night study sessions, pillow fights in the hall, roommate quarrels, someone sneaking in a keg for a floor party… essential components of the full college experience.” I smile, but her eyes are downcast again and she doesn’t see it.

“Oh.”

There’s a tap at my door and when I look up, Brooke is standing in the doorway holding two tops on hangers. I could have sworn I’d closed the door all the way, but I must have left it ajar.

“Hey, I need your assistance in choosing what you want me to wear tonight.” She glances at the screen in front of me. “Oh, Emma! Oh shit, I’m totally interrupting—so sorry!” Emma blinks, looking at Brooke, who is no doubt appearing behind me now on her screen. “You might as well give me your opinion, since you’re almost like right here. What do you think—this one?” She holds up short-sleeved, dark purple, cle**age-baring cashmere sweater. “Or this?” She switches to a silky baby blue top that matches her eyes and the t-shirt I’m wearing.

Emma clears her throat. “It’s a Columbia graduation party, so the blue, I guess.”

“Oh, you’re so right!” She turns to me, her fingers grazing my chest. “And it coordinates with what you’re wearing, Graham.” The sparkle in her eyes from earlier today gone. Her shields are back up. She couldn’t have known I’d be Skyping with Emma now, or I’d think she planned this interruption.

“I’ll be ready in like, half an hour.” She turns to go and I see that she’s wearing a tiny bathrobe that just barely covers her butt.

I turn back to Emma, whose eyes are on Brooke’s retreating, scarcely-clad backside. “I’m getting ready to go out with Emily, so I should probably get ready, too,” she says.

We’d planned to talk for another half an hour, until it was time for me to leave. She’s clearly upset, and Brooke’s untimely appearance in my bedroom wearing a skimpy robe has to be the reason. I clench my jaw. Tomorrow, Brooke will be back in LA, and Emma will return home from her last interaction with Reid for the week. Everything will work itself out.

“Have fun with Emily,” I offer, and she nods.

“Enjoy the party. Talk to you tomorrow.” Her smile appears forced, and before I can say a proper goodbye, she signs off.

***

“So you guys are a couple, huh?” Daniel hands me a beer and clinks his bottle to mine. Half the eyes in the room follow Brooke as she winds through the crowd on her way to the bathroom.

I glance in her direction and back at him. “No, we’re not.”

He arches a brow. “Dude. Have you told her that?”

Wouldn’t that be awkward. “Unnecessary. We’ve been good friends for several years. It’s never been like that.”