Friday, July 1

LONDON to PARIS

The train plunged into a tunnel, and their reflections lit up the windows around them. Aubrey’s conversation with Rae had died down, so she put on her headphones and searched for the playlist Rae had made her for graduation, the one Rae had kindly called “Soundtrack to Aubrey Bryce’s Sad, Forever Good-bye.” Yeah. It felt oddly fitting. The fast-paced electronic sounds of Chvrches blasted into Aubrey’s ears, overlapping with the steady chug of the train. The music thrummed with excitement, but also with a strain of angst. A feeling that matched the one in Aubrey’s stomach. The feeling that, at any second, everything could stretch thin and snap apart.

Aubrey turned up the volume.

The train pushed toward the Chunnel, the underwater tunnel that connected England with France. The walls rattled, and Aubrey looked over at her reflection—her slicked-back ponytail and the downturn of her mouth. She saw Rae’s ripped jeans and the pen she was using to drum against her knees. And she saw Gabe, too, sitting across the aisle talking to Jonah. She took in his profile: the slope of his nose and the curve of his chin, his hair falling over his forehead.

Aubrey’s thoughts clouded over with guilt, but she was glad he was here. It meant the idea of being in such close quarters with her didn’t make him want to run away. It meant there was hope that they could be friends again.

She closed her eyes and crossed her arms, slipping deeper into the mesh of music and train. She wondered what her sixth-grade self would have thought if she could have seen this moment. If she could have seen Aubrey at eighteen, starting to do all the things she’d promised herself she would.

Back then, she and Rae used to stay up late, watching their favorite old movies and planning the glamorous adventures they’d have as soon as they grew up. Back then, Aubrey had assumed that she and Rae would go on this trip alone. She’d had no idea that Jonah, Clara, and Gabe would be sitting with them. She hadn’t even met them yet.

That had happened her freshman year, and technically, she’d met Gabe first. They’d both signed up to work backstage crew for the fall play, and by chance, they were assigned to paint the same set together—a smoggy backdrop of a city. Aubrey remembered spending every afternoon in an empty classroom with him, applying layer after layer of gray-blue paint onto a scratchy canvas. They’d talked for hours—about where they’d grown up and how it felt to be living in England. Gabe was from Madrid, but he’d spent most of his life in Rhode Island, where his dad had taught economics at Brown. Now his family was in London so his dad could start another job at University College London.

Aubrey had been sure that her own background story (my dad’s an accountant; I’m from Connecticut) would sound boring compared with his, but he’d seemed to like talking to her. He’d sat with her in Geometry and called her over to his table during lunch to introduce her to his other new friends—Jonah, who was an actor in the play, and Clara, who designed the costumes. When Aubrey mentioned Rae, Clara pointed out that she and Rae took Studio Art together, and everything began to fall into place. Aubrey plus Rae became Aubrey plus Rae plus Gabe plus Jonah plus Clara.

It had stayed that way ever since.

Aubrey must have fallen asleep, because when she opened her eyes again, the train had stopped. A bright bloom of yellow light poured in through the window, and people were walking up and down a platform outside.

“Check it out.” Rae leaned over Aubrey, popping her strawberry gum. “It’s Paris.”

They headed down the platform, pigeons fluttering near the half-circle windows that ran along the station’s main hall. Announcements echoed around them in haughty, musical French.

Jonah walked up beside Aubrey. “It looks like an old movie set or something,” he said, sounding almost reverent.

“If Paris were a person,” Aubrey said, “it would be so elegant.”

“But also kind of a jackass,” he said.

“Paris isn’t a jackass,” Aubrey gasped. “How can you say that?”

“Because,” Jonah said, “it’s aloof and beautiful and arrogant. Total jackass material.”

Aubrey mock-scowled at him. “Fine. Then if you were a city, you would be Paris.”

“And you’d be London,” he said. “Hardworking. Practical. And dull.”

“What the hell? You’re so unromantic!” They walked past a baguette stand at the end of the platform and through a cloud of steam that smelled of hot coffee and warm bread.

“Anyway,” Jonah said, “I wouldn’t be Paris. I’d be New York.”

“Because you’re from there?”

“No.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Because I’m sexy and dangerous.”

She knocked her bag against his as they stepped onto an escalator down to the Metro.

At just after six PM, they got off at their stop and walked through sliding glass doors into a hotel lobby with black-and-white marble floors and crystal chandeliers dripping from the ceilings. Jonah whistled under his breath. This trip was expensive, and for the most part, they were doing the usual interrailing thing and staying in cheap, dingy hostels. But as a graduation present, Aubrey’s parents had reserved them two nights in a hotel—in, apparently, an incredibly fancy hotel.

They checked in and crowded into an elevator that took them to the eighth floor. Their feet padded on lush carpet as they passed sconces glittering on the walls.

“This place is in-fucking-sane,” Rae said. “Aubs. What were your parents thinking?”

“I feel like we shouldn’t be here,” Aubrey said. “Does anyone else feel like we shouldn’t be here?”

“Too late.” Clara grabbed the key from Aubrey’s hand and unlocked their door. She ran inside, pushing back the gauzy curtains to reveal enormous windows that overlooked massive, glitzy buildings. “Everyone come look at this view!”

“And the bathroom!” Rae said. “Guys. Great news. The bathroom is the size of an apartment.”

“What about food?” Jonah crossed the threshold after them. “Did they give you guys any free food?”

Aubrey was about to follow when she heard Gabe say, “Damn, Bryce. You might never get them to leave.”

“Oh.” Her mind went blank. “I guess they have to leave. When we check out.”

There was a weird, empty silence, and Aubrey wished she could think of something else to say. Something that wasn’t about hotel etiquette. Something that would keep this fledgling conversation alive. The dim hallway seemed to grow dimmer. The walls seemed to inch toward them. It all felt so stiff and formal, like they were characters in a Victorian novel. Like they’d never been close at all. Even though, of course, they had been. Only a few weeks ago, they’d been much closer than this—his hands in her hair, their lips touching.

He started to walk away.

“Doesn’t this remind you of Jane Eyre?” she said quickly.

He turned around. “What?”

“Jane Eyre,” she said. Rae and Clara had started playing loud music in the room, but she stepped toward him. She wasn’t giving up yet. “It feels so gothic, doesn’t it? Like we’re all Jane Eyre, and we’re going into this gigantic mansion, and we’re completely unprepared for—”

“Wives in the attic?” Gabe finished for her, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

“Right!” Hope filled Aubrey’s chest. They were talking now. They were standing across from each other, and they were actually talking. “Wives in the attic. Which—doesn’t make any sense. In terms of my analogy.”

“They kicked me out.” Jonah reappeared next to her. “They told me ‘no boys allowed.’”

“Damn straight!” Clara shouted from inside. “No boys allowed!”

Jonah put his arm around Aubrey’s shoulders, and Gabe’s expression seemed to shut down a little. Aubrey deflated. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, so she shifted away, glancing through the open door. Rae was pulling on a fluffy robe over her clothes, and Clara was clambering onto one of the beds. Jonah let go of Aubrey’s shoulder and said, “We’re going to our room. Meet up with you later?”

“Yeah. Later.” She waited a beat before checking behind her again. The lights in the hallway seemed to flicker.

Gabe and Jonah were gone.

“Beyoncé sing-along!” Clara cranked up the volume on her phone.

“Oh my God!” Rae was standing inside the closet. “How is this closet the size of my house? Is it like one of those Harry Potter Quidditch tents?”

Clara jumped on the bed, belting along with the lyrics, while Aubrey put her bag on the luggage rack and unzipped it. She was thinking about how, for one moment, Gabe had acted like everything between them was normal again. Which meant he might act like that tonight. Which meant he might act like that tomorrow. Which hopefully meant they could undo that stupid kiss from three weeks ago—they could forget it had ever happened.

Her outfit for the evening was folded on top of everything else: a floaty skirt, a red tank top, and a pair of black sandals. She tugged her dark hair from her ponytail holder and let it fall around her shoulders.

Rae emerged from the closet, still wearing the robe and now a pair of slippers. “This album is so freshman year. Remember when Erin Maguire sang ‘Drunk in Love’ in the middle of our Bio exam and didn’t even realize it?”

“Was that when you had a crush on her?” Clara asked.

“What? No. I never had a crush on her.”

Clara stopped jumping and pushed her staticky hair away from her face. “Aubrey! Verify. Did Rae have a crush on Erin Maguire or not?”

Aubrey pulled the tank top over her head, mentally riffling through her list of Rae’s old crushes. “Can’t remember.”

“That means I didn’t!” Rae climbed onto the other bed, pumping both fists in the air. “Because! Aubrey! Remembers! Everything!”

Aubrey’s phone beeped, and she assumed it was her parents, asking if she’d checked into the hotel. But it was Jonah: Aubrey Bryce, this room is NOT SMALL. also, I think I saw a bar downstairs. should we go drink in it??

“Jonah wants to look around some more.” She grabbed one of the keys. “You guys want to come?”

“Aubrey,” Rae said, “you know I love you and that I would probably murder—or at the very least, attempt murder—for you. But there’s no way in hell I’m spending alone time with you and Jonah right now.”

“Ditto,” Clara said. “Enjoy sucking face, though.”

Aubrey flipped them off, and she could hear them cackling as she walked into the hallway, the music fading as she made her way to the elevator.

The bar, just off the lobby, was a sprawling, red-carpeted room full of couples sitting at tables decorated with votive candles. Different scenes from old black-and-white movies were projected silently onto the walls, sending shifting beams of light and shadow over everything. Aubrey chose a booth at the back and ran her hands over the plum fabric of the seat while watching Charlie Chaplin give a flower to a girl in a wide-brimmed hat. She’d never been somewhere like this on her own before, and it made her feel kind of strange—like she was a little kid playing dress-up.

Jonah slid into the booth beside her. “Are these free?” he asked, pointing to the bowl of crackers on the table.

“I would assume so,” Aubrey said.

“I love this place.” He popped a few crackers in his mouth. “Do you think we’ll get those tiny pillow mints, too?”

Aubrey stopped watching the screen, but the images stayed behind her eyelids for a few more seconds, a hazy afterglow. Jonah had changed into the blue button-up Aubrey had bought him for Hanukkah last year, and he smelled like the bright, lemony laundry detergent she always associated with walking into his house. Even though they’d been dating since sophomore year, Aubrey sometimes found it hard to believe that he was her boyfriend. Her serious boyfriend, as her mom often put it. The first time he’d asked her out, she’d honestly thought it might have been a joke. When it happened, she’d been standing next to Rae, who’d had to say, Yeah, she’ll go out with you, while Aubrey’s brain tried to make sense of what was going on. She’d always liked Jonah, but she’d never considered the possibility of like-liking him. And it had definitely never occurred to her that he might like-like her. Aubrey thought of herself as the kind of girl guys flirted with so she would let them copy her homework. She wore T-shirts with nerdy literary slogans on them, and she frowned at kids who talked over the teacher during class, and she’d always enjoyed the comfort of practical shoes.

Jonah, on the other hand, was moody and artistic and seriously cute. The first time Lucy had seen a picture of him, she’d told Rae and Aubrey that he looked like Ethan Hawke in Reality Bites. (When they IMDb-ed it later, it turned out she was right.)

On that first date, a Saturday, a January ice storm hit. Aubrey met Jonah at the Natural History Museum, and they spent the afternoon weaving through crowds of moms and crying toddlers to gaze at bleached dinosaur skeletons and life-size whale models suspended from the ceiling. In the early evening, he walked her to the bus stop, taking her arm to guide her around icy patches on the sidewalk and waiting with her for the bus to arrive. They were still talking when its headlights flashed down the street and swept toward them. And as the bus slushed through a puddle of snow and stopped, Jonah leaned over and kissed Aubrey. His mouth was cool and wintry; the tips of his fingers touched the tips of hers.

“We should order something.” Jonah crunched another cracker, pulling Aubrey back into the moment. “How do you say my good sir, give us the cheapest wine you’ve got?”

Aubrey turned toward him. “Doesn’t this make you think about New York?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Trust me. Living in New York won’t be anything like this.”

“Not the hotel,” she said. “I meant this. Being by ourselves. Getting to decide what we do at any given moment—well, except for when we have to go to class.”

 “I’ll take you to see my old apartment,” he said. “My parents are renting it out now, but the doorman still remembers me. He even lets me go up to the roof sometimes.”

“You have to come to the Columbia library,” she said. “My mom and I went on this tour of it when we were visiting last summer. Even standing in the entrance made me feel more intelligent.”

“I think I’ve been there. But when you come downtown, we can go to all the weird little theaters they have there. We’ll see a new show every week.”

“And we’ll go to the Statue of Liberty. And get a couple of those Statue of Liberty hats.”

“Aubrey. No.”

“Okay. But we can at least get matching ‘I Heart NY’ ponchos, right?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he took her hand under the table. “No tourist garbage,” he said.

“But I’m a tourist!”

“No, you’re not. You’re going to live there for the next four years.”

“Maybe even longer than that,” she said and instantly felt shy about it. They’d never talked about it explicitly, but it did make sense that they’d stay in New York after they graduated. Jonah was studying drama at NYU, so it seemed logical that he’d go on auditions in the city. And Aubrey could apply to do her English lit master’s at Columbia—she’d already researched how to get into the program.

Just like that, it glowed to life in her mind, this future they would have together: Aubrey taking the subway from Columbia to NYU to see him in the evenings; the two of them walking across the Brooklyn Bridge on chilly autumn nights and going out for soup dumplings in Chinatown; Aubrey having a key to Jonah’s dorm.

Jonah’s phone buzzed on the table, and Leah’s name popped up, the screen turning bright and garish. Jonah let go of Aubrey’s hand to check the message, and Aubrey felt the little bubble she’d created around them burst.

“She’s asking what kind of drinks she should buy,” Jonah said. “For when we’re at her place Monday night.”

“Cool!” Aubrey tried to sound enthusiastic as she poked a few crackers around the bowl. Leah was Jonah’s friend from the London American School, but she’d graduated a year earlier, and now she was at NYU, doing the exact same drama program Jonah was going to start. Aubrey didn’t exactly dislike Leah, but she did resent the fact that when Leah was around, the focus of everything seemed to shift to her. And, of course, Leah was interning at a theater in Amsterdam that summer, which meant they would have to see her in a few days. Which was annoying.

Jonah was still texting, the black-and-white images from the silent movie gliding over him, forming triangles of light against his skin. Aubrey wished she could reach over and pull him back to her. She wished they could go back to talking about New York—the New York that belonged to the two of them, the New York where they were the only people who existed. She blurted out, “You can’t be New York.”

“Huh?” He looked up from his phone.

“The conversation we were having earlier,” she said. She could feel her face getting flushed. “About which city we would be. You can’t be New York, because it puts us on uneven footing when we move there, and that isn’t fair.”

“Okay.” Jonah looked baffled, but he reached over to touch her cheek. “So we’re both New York.” Aubrey felt the bubble growing around them again, blocking out Leah and the rest of the world. The images from the movie grazed Jonah’s lips; they got caught in his eyelashes. And Aubrey tipped her head toward his. She let her eyes drift shut.