A few hours later, I’m pretty much packed up. All the posters and pictures from my side of the room are down and all that’s left are little bits of glue and tape that I wasn’t able to scrape off. It’s definitely a sorry sight. Finals have this odd letdown quality to them. There’s all this build up, anxiety, and anticipation and work leading up to them. And then, one moment later, they’re over and you find yourself at a loss as to what to do. It’s like there was a purpose of you being there and suddenly there isn’t. It’s already my second semester, but I still haven’t found a decent way to cope with this feeling. A huge part of me wants to go to sleep and rest, but my mind keeps racing and my body wants to celebrate. We’re all going out later tonight, around 10, but there’re still hours until then. I plop down on my bed, pull the covers all around me, and wrap myself around my phone. The Internet is always a good way to kill time.

There’s a knock on my door.

“Hey.” Tristan stands in the doorway. “Can I come in?”

I just started a game of Candy Crush.

“Sure,” I say reluctantly, barely able to pull myself away from the screen.

“You going out tonight?” I ask.

“Yep,” he says, nodding.

“Cool.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Okay, I have to put down the phone. He’s waiting for me to pay attention.

“What’s up?” I look up at him.

He sits down on the bed next to me. A little too close. I pull the covers over and create a little bit of a barrier between us.

“How did your finals go?” he asks.

“Good.” I shrug. “I don’t really know. I guess we’ll see.”

He looks somewhere behind me on the wall. I can tell that he’s not really interested in my answer.

“You? How was your Macroeconomics final?” I ask. That’s his most difficult class. I really hope that he ends up passing it. And not just passing, but succeeding.

“I actually think it went okay,” he says. His eyes light up at the thought. “I’m really hoping for an A-. That professor never gives out As.”

“Oh wow, that’s great. And you see, you were worried.”

There’s a moment of silence. I wait for him to say something else, but he doesn’t.

“Tristan?” I say. His eyes return to mine. “What’s up? Did you just come here to talk about finals?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Not really.”

I wait for him to say something else. But again, he is at a loss for words.

I’m starting to get impatient.

“Tristan, what’s going on? Is there something you want to talk about? If not, then please leave me alone so I can waste a few hours playing Candy Crush.”

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I just want to apologize for everything that has happened this semester. I shouldn’t have worked so hard and ignored you. I really didn’t give our relationship a fair shot. Just looking back to last winter and how much fun we had. I’m not really sure what happened when we got to school, except that I was a dick.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “What happened happened.”

“No, see, that’s precisely it. It happened because of me. If I hadn’t been so busy with work and school and actually spent some time with you. Then maybe…”

“No, I should’ve been more understanding about your job. It was a good experience, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugs. “I just don’t think it was worth losing you over.”

“Well…it’s okay,” I say. “I don’t really know what to say.”

“And I also wanted to apologize for getting confused about us. That was partly because of my crazy schedule. I just felt like I needed to get something off my plate.”

“Tristan, it’s fine,” I say. I sort of hate that he referred to me as the something that he had to get off his plate. “It’s all in the past.”

“You see, that’s the thing. What if I don’t want it to be in the past, Alice?”

“What?”

I feel myself losing color in my face as blood drains away somewhere to the lower half of my body.

“Don’t look so scared,” he jokes.

“What are you talking about?”

“I just want to apologize for everything that has happened this semester. Because I know it’s my fault.”

“Well, not exactly,” I say with a smile. “You didn’t force me to marry Dylan.”

“I know.” He waves his hand to dismiss the matter. “But I know it wasn’t for real. I know you don’t love Dylan. I just made a bigger deal out of it than I probably should have.”

“No, I don’t think so. In fact, I think you’re response was probably quite appropriate given the circumstances.”

We both start laughing. It’s too ridiculous not to. A part of me is shocked that we’re actually laughing about it so soon. I was sure that it would be years before I could laugh about this. And yet, here we are.

As we laugh, our bodies move closer and closer. I’m not sure how it happens, but suddenly, I find myself right next to his face. I look up at him, surprised. Tristan doesn’t look so surprised. His eyes sparkle. He licks his lips. He touches my chin and lifts it up, bringing my lips closer to his.

“Tristan,” I whisper.

“Alice.”

“What are you doing?” He looks down at my lips and then back to my eyes.

“You know what I’m doing.”

“No, we can’t,” I say, pulling away from him.

“What? Why?”

“Because. Because you know why.”

Now, I’m getting angry. Does he really not know why? I look at him. He stares at me dumbfounded.

“Because I’m going home to LA. And you’re going to the Bay Area. We won’t see each other for a long time. You’re going to be here for school next year and I’m going to go to USC.”

“So?” he asks.

“So? I don’t want to kiss you and then spend the summer wondering what the hell it means. I want to move on from this Tristan. I can’t keep doing this.”

“What if I don’t want you to move on?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I want to be with you, Alice. I want to try again.”

I look at him. He looks earnest. Set in his decision. But I’m not.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” I say, getting out of bed. “I don’t think this…this thing between us can work. It’s too complicated.”

“I love you, Alice.”

He walks over to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. A few loose strands of hair fall into his beautiful face. It takes all of my strength I have not to just lean over and kiss him.

“I love you, Alice. Do you love me?”

I don’t reply for a moment. I could lie. But I don’t.

“Yes, I love you, too.”

“So? What more do we need?”

“It’s not enough, Tristan. I know the Beatles say that it’s all you need, but I need more. At least now.”

I walk out of the room as quickly as I can because tears are already flowing down my face. I can’t stop them. I don’t even try. I just hope that he doesn’t catch up to me and see them. And another part of me hopes that he does. I want him to wipe them away and say that no matter what, everything will be okay.

But Tristan doesn’t follow me. I get to the elevator and ride down to the ground floor. It’s May and New York is in full bloom. The streets are crowded with people in t-shirts and shorts. Everyone seems to be running, bicycling, or walking their dogs. I run down to Riverside Park. I need to be alone, but that’s pretty much impossible in this city. All I can ask for is to be somewhere where no one knows me. Strangers here don’t make it a policy to comfort strangers.

With tears running down my face, I run until I reach the fence separating me from the Hudson River. I stand there watching the river flow by and letting my tears flow with abandon until twilight falls.