The Improbability of Forever (Kismet #2) ✓

1. Thirty Days

One

Thirty Days

Today was Monday, April 15, and I could officially consider myself a liar.

It was easy to pretend that I just hadn't gotten around to sharing the news when the move was a few months away. The packed-up boxes spread across my house were easily dismissed as one of Mom's decluttering rampages when the trip seemed a whole galaxy away. But on April 15, my move from Florida to the Carolinas was exactly one month away, and I couldn't deny anymore that I was definitely lying by omission.

When I woke up I stared at the ceiling and blinked for a few seconds, trying to clear the sleep from my eyes. It was way too early to be worrying about lies to boyfriends, and yet here I was, not even a full minute awake and fretting as if the world was going to end. The lights on the ceiling felt like train headlights, bearing down on me. I had to tell him.

But I couldn't possibly break the news to Cody Marlett. Not this soon. I wanted to preserve simplicity, even if it was just a façade, for a little while longer. So I did what I had done every morning since Mom and her fiancée told me the news, and I told my brain to shut up about it.

Mind you, it wasn't easy to shove something like this under the rug. When Mom wasn't working on getting her Master's degree she was bustling around the house, ordering Vanessa and me to empty out some cabinet or another. My room was one of the few that wasn't almost completely bared. And I liked it that way: it was an oasis, proof that maybe we didn't have to move so far away after all.

I realized as I shoved my Collie puppy Macy off of me and rolled out of bed that I was even lying to myself.

The morning of April 15 at the Ramirez's was, on the outside, no different than any other morning. Except for that added burden of guilt, which had been increasing every morning for six months, I got ready for school just like any normal day. But thirty days away from my move was still plenty of time for catastrophes to make their mark.

~*~*~

"Quinn, you didn't answer my call this morning."

I pushed the kickstand down on my bike and made a show of shoving my backpack over one shoulder so I didn't have to bother looking at Cody Marlett. My boyfriend of exactly six months was probably the one who most deserved to know about my move and yet I hadn't told him, which created about one hundred percent of my guilt.

"Oh?" I still didn't look at him as I unstrapped my helmet. What I wouldn't tell him was that I hadn't answered because seeing his name pop up on my phone only intensified my guilt, which I was trying really hard not to feel because I just wanted to enjoy my last thirty days at Providence Prep amongst the friends I'd had since kindergarten.

When I finally looked at Cody, I saw that he was staring at me intently, his wide brown eyes boring into mine. Maybe he knew something was up, or maybe he was just in an especially transfixed mood—I could only hope it was the latter.

"I called because I know we haven't made summer plans yet, and my parents just told me I can go down to their house on the beach for a week or two. You should come."

Over the summer, I would be unpacking in my brand-new home in a brand-new state, getting ready for my junior year in a brand-new school. My stomach twisted. "Sounds great," I said, but my voice sounded mechanical even to me.

"You're acting weird."

I chewed down on my lip. "You have no idea."

I thought I'd made it to safety when I got to the top of the stairs and swiped my student ID, but his hands clamped down on my shoulders and whirled me around. It was his trademark move when I was about to undergo a lecture, and I wasn't in the mood.