When I meet Tea for lunch the following day, she has a completely different reaction to the news. I’m ready to go into a big explanation about all this yet again, but she just nods and says that she understands. She really catches me off guard. So much so that I don’t even know what we’re going to talk about for the rest of lunch since I thought we’d talk about this the whole time.

“So I finished my book,” Tea announces after we order.

“What?”

“Remember, the romance one about the girl pretending to be a wealthy guy’s fiancée on the cruise?”

“Of course! I can’t believe you’re done with it already.” While I’ve been head-deep in my own drama, Tea managed to write a whole book. Imagine that!

“I’d love for you to read it,” she says.

“Oh my God. Yes, definitely!”

“I can send you an ePub version so you can read it on your phone,” she says.

“Perfect!”

Tea has been working on the book since January and it’s finally done. I’m awed by her dedication. In addition to her classes and Tanner, she has been working on this project and now it’s completed.

“Frankly, I’m really jealous,” I say when our food finally arrives. I ordered a tuna salad and she’s having a grilled chicken panini.

“What? Why?” she says, laughing.

“Because you went out there and did this awesome thing. While I’ve been burying my head in the sand and dealing with all of my stupid problems.”

“Well, another way to think about it is that you’ve been out there living life while I’ve just been writing about someone else’s.”

“Given how this semester has gone, I really wish I had some fictional drama in my life instead of real drama.”

“I know,” she says sympathetically. “It’s been really tough. I’m sorry. But I’m sure that when you look back on all this next year you’ll laugh about it.”

I smile. “Probably not next year. Maybe, in ten years.”

“Okay, in ten years.” She smiles.

* * *

Tea sends me her book that evening and I plan on just reading a chapter or two. But seven hours later, well past my usual bedtime, I finally finish it. Wow. The characters are so vivid; they seem more real than real people. They practically jump from the page. I don’t remember the last time I devoured a book like that. It’s so different from all the books I’ve read for English classes. Unlike in the books that I’ve read before, the romance and the love in this one was real.

The characters weren’t just people on the page. When they spoke, I heard them. I saw them. I felt them. Their love is real. The girl, Savannah, acted just like I would, or anyone our age. And the guy, Tatum, well, Tatum was definitely a better version of any guy I’ve met. It’s as if all of the best qualities of the guys I knew, like Tristan and Dylan, were exaggerated to the ninth degree. Don’t get me wrong. He has some bad qualities too, some insecurities. But nothing that his love can’t help him with.

I lay in bed for close to an hour after finishing Tea’s book, waiting to fall asleep. But unlike all those other sleepless nights I had, the ones that tore me up inside, the ones which I spent hours beating myself up for all the things that I shouldn’t have said and done and all the things that I should’ve said and done, this night was different. I actually lay in bed thinking about the book. Imagining Tatum and Savannah’s love for each other, their first kiss, their first everything. Unlike all these other books, in this one, Tea didn’t shy away from fading to black. She took me everywhere, describing every touch, every feeling, every sensation and smell. And in the end? I fell in love with Tatum and Savannah and I had to have more.

Why the hell did you write this book?

I text Tea even though it’s in the middle of the night. Hopefully, she has her phone off if she’s sleeping. But Tea writes back almost immediately.

What? You don’t like it?

No, I fucking love it!!!

Oh…ok. So, what’s the problem?

What’s the problem? The problem is that I can’t sleep. I love them. And I want more.

More?

More about Tatum and Savannah. Are you writing another one? I can’t type fast enough.

Um…I haven’t thought about it much.

Well, think about it! I’m going to try to get some sleep now. Not likely though, thanks to your book. Sorry not sorry.

After putting down my phone, I still can’t get to sleep. This time my mind doesn’t wander. I know what I want. I want what Tatum and Savannah have. I want their kind of love for me. I want to be in love again. I want to feel butterflies over the possibility of touching someone again. I want to wonder how our first date went, whether it was as amazing for him as it was for me. I want to dance in the rain and kiss in a blizzard. I want to live inside a romance novel. But that’s not possible, right? That’s not reality, right? And yet, reading that book sounded more like the truth than my real life. How is that?

* * *

Three weeks later, Dylan comes into the living room where I’m procrastinating on working on my Victorian Lit paper. I should be doing research on it in the library, but instead, I’m looking up something vaguely related to Victorian times on my phone and hoping that I will stumble on a topic to write about that way. So far, no luck. Juliet and Tristan are also in the room. Juliet is painting her nails and Tristan is doing his Macroeconomics problem set. Tristan and I have entered another period of Cold War. We don’t talk to each other unless absolutely necessary, but we also don’t avoid each other at all costs like we used to. So that’s an improvement in my book.

Dylan is wearing a wide grin on his face. He flashes me his pearly whites, which do nothing but remind me that I really need to get my teeth professionally whitened. But I’m afraid of dentists and all doctors for that matter so I’ve been avoiding them at all costs.

“What?” I finally ask. He’s obviously eager to share some news with the room.

He holds up a thick packet in a manila folder.

“Guess what this is?” he asks.

“Your history paper?” Tristan says jokingly. We all know that Dylan did not do very well on his last history paper. And by not very well, I mean that he got a C-. Enough for him to start worrying about passing the class.

“Ha ha, very funny. No,” he says, rolling his eyes. “No, these are divorce papers!”

I’ve never thought that I’d be so happy to hear the phrase “divorce papers” in my life.

“Really? Are you sure?” I ask, grabbing the packet out of his hand and scanning the papers. They don’t make any sense of course; it’s all legalized. All I see are the little stickers by the signature lines.

“Yep, got them from the lawyer this morning. You will be glad to know that this divorce is the most amicable one that my dad’s Park Avenue attorney had ever dealt with. He said that the two of us were the most mature clients he’s ever had.”

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” I say. “Given that this is probably the stupidest thing that either of us has ever done.”

“So all you have to do is sign where those stickers are and we’re done. A courier will come tomorrow to pick them up and take them to the court,” Dylan says.

“Great! Does anyone have a pen?” I ask.

I want to get this over with as soon as possible. We look around the room, but there’s no pen to be found. And then suddenly, Tristan hands me his.

With all the excitement, I had completely forgotten that he was still in the room. Our eyes meet as he hands me his pen and our fingers touch briefly. In that moment, it feels like he can see through me, completely and entirely. Like he knows everything about me that I ever was and ever will be. The feeling leaves me uneasy and scared.