Tristan is standing backstage with his foot propped up on the wall. There are wires and poles all around him, but he’s standing so casually that it looks as if he’s back in our dorm. His arms are by his sides and his face is tilted slightly toward me.

“You came,” I say. Still on a high from my performance and the crowd’s response, I throw my arms around him. “Thank you.”

For a second, he seems surprised by my exuberance, but then quickly wraps his arms around me too.

“You were wonderful,” Tristan whispers into my ear.

“Thanks,” I say when I pull away. “I was super nervous, as you can imagine. But I got through it. I can’t believe I got through it.”

I’m keenly aware of the fact that I can’t stop smiling. I try to press my lips together, but they just won’t budge.

“I can’t believe you said all those things,” Tristan says.

“Oh, yeah, well…I don’t know,” I say. I don’t really know what to say. “That’s how I feel and I just wanted you to know that.”

I’m owning my words. I’m being honest to my true feelings. Wow. This is a whole new world. A whole new me.

“Well, thank you,” Tristan says. “Thank you for saying those things and thank you for inviting me.”

“Sure, anytime,” I say jokingly. “Actually, no, not anytime. This is the last time. I’m surprised I didn’t have a heart attack leading up to this.”

“I thought that given how well this went, you’d be considering a career in public service. Somewhere where you can make speeches all the time,” Tristan jokes.

“Hell, no!”

We share an awkward moment of silence. Tristan takes a step closer to me. I look up at him.

“Well, thanks for coming,” I say. “I really appreciate it.”

“No, thank you for inviting me,” he says. “I had no idea that you were going to do a whole speech about me.”

“What can I say? You are sort of an important person in my life. And I want you to know that I meant what I said. I’m really grateful for our friendship.”

He nods his head, hanging his shoulders. Then he looks up at me. His eyes sparkle in the dim light. And suddenly, the moment changes. We are friends one second and more than that the next. Nothing changes except that I know, I can sense, that he wants to kiss me. I want to kiss him, too. He takes my hand in his and looks carefully at each of my fingers, as if he’s seeing them for the very first time. Slowly, he brings them up to his lips and gives me a light peck. I know what’s coming next. I want it to happen, but I don’t let it.

Instead, I take a step back.

“I have to go,” I say. “Thanks for coming again.”

I walk back home in a daze. I’m on a high from my speech and from the moment with Tristan. I did not give my speech or invite him to it for that to happen. And I pulled away because I don’t want to spend the rest of my time here and the summer wondering about the kiss. No, it’s time for me to move on. Tristan will be in my life as a friend only. And that’s enough. That was the whole freakin’ point of the speech. So why can’t I get him out of my head?

* * *

Finals finally come to an end. It’s funny how you wait for this one week each semester, dreading it, hating it, and each day of the week passes ever so slowly. But then it’s Friday and you look back and bam! Finals week is over. This time I didn’t procrastinate until the last possible minute to study for any of my classes and was able to get a proper night of sleep every night. Unlike Juliet, of course. She stayed up all night for what seemed like three days straight.

“Did you end up getting any sleep at all this week?” I ask her, packing up the disaster that is my desk.

I’m not so much packing up as going through all the junk that has piled up in there and throwing almost all of it out. Why didn’t I do this earlier again? Why did I think that I would need to hold on to all of this junk mail? Juliet doesn’t keep anything and calls me a hoarder.

“Not really.” She shrugs. “A few hours here and there in the afternoon.”

“I don’t know how you’re still functioning,” I joke.

“Red Bull, baby! Red Bull and about fifty pots of coffee.”

“So, what are your plans for the summer?” I ask.

“Oh my God! I completely forgot to tell you,” she says, jumping up and down. Her eyes light up like a Christmas tree.

“I’m going to the Hamptons! Well, not just me. A bunch of people I know are pulling together and getting a place there. It’s not cheap, but it’s going to be epic!!”

“Oh wow, that sounds exciting,” I say unenthusiastically.

“You’re a West Coast girl, so I’m not sure you’re quite getting the significance of this. This is the Hamptons. The Hamptons are the place to be in the summer. There’s like a million parties everyday.”

“No, I get it. I’m sure you’ll have a blast,” I say, trying to infuse my voice with more excitement.

“And of course, you have to come!”

“What?”

“Yes! Please, c’mon. It won’t be the same without you,” Juliet pleads. Juliet is an expert in pleading. This is probably the exact same voice she uses to plead for things from her father. Its high pitch makes her sound completely helpless, when in reality, she’s the only one in control.

“I don’t know.” I shrug.

“Okay, promise me that you’ll think about it. Especially around July 4^th. Or any week or weekend really. It doesn’t matter, they’re all going to be amazing!”

“How long are you going to be there?” I ask.

“Two months,” Juliet says. “Most people will be coming and going, but I’m planning on soaking every second of my Hamptons time.”

I turn back to packing. I’m almost done with my desk, which now looks like a shell of its prior self. How many students have sat at this desk before? I wonder. How many papers were written here? How many tests were studied for? How many hours were wasted procrastinating?

“So?” Juliet asks.

She walks over to my bed and plops herself on it. There are piles and stacks of clothes everywhere. I have a tendency to fold things first before figuring out what order I want to stuff them into my bags. I do this mainly because I hate to unpack when I get home, and often let my bag just sit there half unpacked in the corner of my room. And if I’m not going to unpack then I need to be able to reach all of my favorite clothes easily.

“Okay, I’ll think about it,” I say.

“Will you really think about it? Or are you just saying that to get me off your back? You know you say that a lot when you really have no intention of thinking about anything ‘cause your mind is already made up.”

“Oh my God.” I laugh. “You’re such a pest. I’ll think about it. Really. I promise.”

The Hamptons do sound nice. I’ve never been to Long Island, but I’ve seen it in plenty of movies and television shows. Maybe it would be nice to fly back here for a week or so and really let loose. If there’s anyone who knows how to have fun, it’s definitely Juliet.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she says, getting off my bed. “I’m really going to miss you, girlie.”

I turn to face her. She taps her foot slightly on the floor and doesn’t look directly at me.

“I’m going to miss you too,” I say and wrap my arms around her.

“Hey, hey, hey. What’s going on here?” Dylan walks into our room through the open door.

“Are you saying your goodbyes already? You’re not leaving today, are you?” he asks.

I shake my head without letting go of Juliet. We’re still locked in an embrace and when I shake my head, we both move side to side.

“So what’s up with the waterworks?” Dylan asks.

Juliet and I finally let go of each other. There’s mist in both of our eyes.

“Well, since you’re saying your goodbyes already, I wanted to make sure that you’ve said your goodbye to your engagement ring,” Dylan says, pulling out a small blue box from his pocket. “I’m taking it back to Tiffany’s today.”

Juliet’s eyes light up. “Give that to me,” she says.

“You haven’t taken it back already?” I ask.

Juliet opens the box and puts the ring on her finger.

“Gorgeous,” she whispers. “My future fiancé has his work cut out for him.”

I roll my eyes.

“Here, you have to put it on, Alice. One last time,” Juliet says.

I shake my head, but she grabs my hand and pushes the ring on my ring finger. The two-carat diamond and the little diamonds around the halo sparkle so bright that they make me want to reach for my sunglasses. I find myself transfixed, unable to look away.

“I have to hand it to you, Dylan,” I say. “I’m not sure that I’ll ever have a ring this beautiful in my life. And I want to thank you for that. Whomever you marry in the future will be one lucky lady.”

Dylan’s face explodes in a wide, effervescent grin.

“No matter what, I have a feeling that you’ll be my favorite wife,” he says.

All three of us crack up laughing. Even now, I have a hard time believing that the events of this semester actually took place. Wow, what a ride.