With one last look at my final for this quarter, I make sure every T is crossed and every I is dotted. For the past week, I’ve crammed everything I could into my brain, knowing at best I walk away with a C-average. It’s better than failing, and while it’s still not up to par with what my parents want and expect, it’s all I can give them right now, with the promise that I’ll do better next quarter.

While I’m still upset with my dad for threatening to cut me off, he’s right. I haven’t been a model student or daughter as of late, and if I want a future, I need to figure things out. However, the future part has to wait because Peyton and I are heading to Aruba for spring break. As luck would have it, UCLA and Northwestern happened to vacation at the same time, a first for Peyton and I. I had asked to go to Cancun and the Florida Keys with my friends, but what I need is time with my sister. Besides, we can plan her wedding and focus on being sisters. For a while now, I’ve felt like our bond hasn’t been as strong as it should be, and I miss it. I miss my sister.

I also miss my best friend. Ben’s the guy who I’ve seen almost every day of my life since I was fourteen. He’s also the guy who has conveniently disappeared, although that isn’t entirely true, I have seen him, in passing, but he’s clearly ignoring me. Deep down, I know it has to do with the night of his birthday. Whatever happened is my fault. The thing is, I don’t know exactly what happened and he’s not talking to me. A flippant wave as he’s passing by doesn’t really tell me anything. I want for him to pound on my apartment door, grab me by the shoulders and shake the crap out of me, all while yelling about how ridiculous I am for whatever I did. At least then, I’d know where I screwed up, and maybe I can try to fix it.

Although, something tells me there’s no coming back from what happened between us. I think we crossed a line, one I never meant to cross. Ben knows for sure, and he’s not saying anything, which leaves us in limbo. I have to do something to fix this… whatever this may be.

After another read through, I make a few changes to my paper, hoping I’m submitting the best quality work I can. I’m not naïve enough to think my efforts will be enough, but I’m hoping. My classmates start to turn their papers in, but I wait. I’m going to use every last second of the clock before I hand my final in. I have so much more to lose, by no fault of my own.

“Five minutes,” the proctor says. I had hoped my professor would be here today or at least her assistant, but no such luck. Even if I wanted to sweet talk my way into a passing grade, I can’t. The man standing at the front of the class with his eyes trained on each student doesn’t give a hoot about who I am or my plight. Of course, my plight is my own. The administrator already took pity on me when Peyton had her accident. I don’t have an excuse now.

Every minute, he announces the countdown. I feel like the song should play, and Rocky and Apollo Creed should start battling it out in the middle of the room. I try to focus on the words I wrote, tweaking and changing them around for better flow. When the test administrator declares one minute left, I save my document and send it to the classroom printer, where a small line has formed. Thankfully, I’m done. The stressing can happen while I’m on the beach, trying to piece my life back together.

As soon as I step out of the building, I tip my head back and let the sun shine down on me. Growing up, we’d come to California during vacations if the band wasn’t touring. From the moment I landed here, I knew this is where I wanted to be. Making this decision wasn’t easy, though. I thought about staying near Beaumont so that I could visit my father’s grave, but with my mom and dad living here, it’s where I wanted to be. Honestly, I don’t know how Peyton does it, living in Chicago by herself. Although, since she and Noah have been together, he’s living there as much as possible.

With Ben on my mind, I make my way over to the café where he has work-study. When he first got this job, I teased him only because he went from working at Whimsicality to the Java Spot, and had a slew of other jobs he could’ve applied for. He said working here made sense, it’s what he knew and could easily do the job without much training. He was right, and this quickly became our hangout, except right now he’s not here when he should be.

“Hey, Tim. Do you know where Ben is?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, he’s not on the schedule today.”

Odd. I smile. “Okay, thanks.” It doesn’t make sense that he wouldn’t be here. He’s always working at this time, but maybe he had a final scheduled. I pull out my phone and send him a text, and then scroll through the barely answered messages. When he does answer, it’s one word, and usually, it’s a yes or no, which is vastly different from a few weeks ago.

I try not to let it bother me as I head back home. Traffic is light, and when I get there, Peyton and Quinn are in the midst of a heated battle over whatever video game they’re playing. They don’t acknowledge me, and that’s okay. This is something they share, although if you look at Quinn, you’d think he wouldn’t be a sports fan. However, this is where his friendship with Noah comes into play. And probably Quinn’s love for Peyton. While they bond over video games and sports, Quinn and I have our music. Well, more his than mine. I’m the least musically inclined one of the bunch, even though I can play the guitar.

“Let me know when it’s safe to walk in front of the television.” I stand there, waiting. I’ve been on the receiving end a time or two, getting yelled at because I walked in front of the TV at the wrong time. Over the years, I’ve learned to wait.

“You’re clear,” Quinn says. Instead of passing by, I drop my bag and take the spot in between them. Both lean toward me as if they know I need their comfort, but neither wanting to bring attention to the fact.

“Who’s winning?”

“I am,” Peyton says.

“She cheats.”

Peyton throws her hands up in the air. “How, Quinn? We’re playing on a console. It’s impossible to cheat.”

I look at Quinn, who shrugs. The game starts back up, and it’s easy to tell who Peyton is. I start to laugh as she controls her future husband on the screen and when things don’t go her way, she yells at him, almost as if he could hear her.

“Poor Noah. He’s not even here to defend himself,” I direct at Peyton. She rolls her eyes and continues her onslaught of Quinn, while I sit there, sandwiched in between my siblings.

When the game is over, Peyton jumps up and does a little cheer before sticking her hand out. “Pay up.”

“You made a bet with her?” I look at Quinn.

“I’ve been practicing,” he laments.

I point at Peyton. “And you don’t think she has? Geesh, Quinn, she lives with a quarterback. I’m sure they play all the time.”

“Noah loses too.” Peyton is very nonchalant about beating Noah as she pockets the money from Quinn. “Go grab your stuff, Quinn will take us to the airport.”

The beauty of having a private jet at our disposal is we don’t have to book tickets. Our dad works with the pilot to file the flight plan, and the pilot tells us when to be at the landing strip. Last night, I packed everything I would need, which isn’t much, and rush off to my room to grab my bag.

Peyton and Quinn are waiting for me, ready to leave. Outside, I stare at Ben’s door, wondering if I should text him one more time or wait for him to respond. Maybe I need to step back and give him some space, even if it hurts me.

The drive to the airport takes longer than anticipated because of traffic, the only thing I hate about this area. You have to time your departure right, or you could get stuck for hours, all because someone put on their brakes at the wrong time.

When we finally arrive, we tell Quinn to have a fun week without us and thank him for dropping us off. The desk agent is laughing at us when we enter the facility. She tells us the pilot’s waiting and to have a fun trip. The both of us run to the plane and climb the stairs. I come to a complete halt even with Peyton crashing into me.

“What gives,” she says. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” There are red and white roses spread everywhere and a bottle of champagne on the table. “You’re so lucky.”

“It’s our first time really apart like this,” Peyton says. I’m not even sure they’re from Noah, but who else would do this.

“What about during the season?”

“He’s home a couple of days a week, and I fly to him on Fridays.”

“I see.” Somehow, I knew this, but it didn’t really register. Peyton and I sit across from each other and buckle up. Our flight attendant has notified the pilot that we’re on board and ready and before I know it, we’re off the ground and soaring toward paradise.

The stewardess pops the cork on the champagne for us and pours us each a glass. “Thank you,” we both tell her. I reach across the table and tap my glass to my sister’s. “Here’s to a week of sun, sand, and whatever else we may do.”

“Like plan my wedding, talk about boys and eat our way through Aruba.”

I’m all for two of the three options she said, but talking about boys is something I don’t want to do. As I look around the cabin, I realize Peyton is living most girls’ fairy tales. I mean, what guy thinks about sending flowers ahead to decorate the inside of a plane? Noah does because he’s crazy in love with my sister. I’m happy for her, beyond happy actually, but jealous all the same. I want what they have. I want the all-consuming type of love where we each know what the other is thinking or where we may be in a room full of people.

“I want what you and Noah have.”

“What do you mean?” Peyton asks. I realize I hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but now that I have, Peyton’s looking at me expectantly.

“I want a guy who looks at me the way Noah looks at you. I want this”—I spread my arms out—“I want to walk in a room and search the crowd, only to feel my man coming behind me and when he touches me I know… I just know.”

“You have all that.”

“Pfft, with whom? I’ve never dated seriously since we were allowed to date. It’s not like my knight in shining armor is someone I know.”

“But he is,” she says.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Ben, of course.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, P. He’s not even speaking to me right now, and I can guarantee you, we’re not even close to being on the same page as you and Noah.”

“Why do you think that?”

I sigh and down my flute of champagne. “I think I slept with him and I don’t remember, and if I did, I might have been a total bitch to him the next morning.”

“Oh, Elle.” Peyton leaves her side of the plane and comes over to me, pulling me into her arms. I need this. I need to feel loved and worthy of someone else’s affection, whether it’s my sister or not. “We’ll fix this,” she whispers into my shoulder. I want to believe her, I do, but I fear Ben is too far gone, and I don’t really blame him.