His & Mine | Sequel to Make It Known | DISCONTINUED

Chapter Forty-Nine: Dilemma, Part III

Chapter Forty-Nine: Dilemma, Part III

***

Fab Four group chat:

Victoria: Luke didn't get into U of T

Melanie: Aw, I'm sorry. How's he doing?

Dylan: punching holes in walls, apparently. You don't have any spackle lying around, do you Gav?

Melanie: yikes, poor guy

Gavin: Have a tub in the garage

Melanie: from Darcy's teen years 🙄
Ophelia is going to be devastated

Victoria: Let's chat later, in crisis mode rn

Melanie: call when you get the chance

Victoria: talk soon

***

Ophelia:

I'm standing in front of the island Friday after school, waiting for the kettle to boil for some tea and letting my thoughts carry me away, when my phone starts vibrating from the back pocket of my jeans.

Luke's name pops up on the screen and my heart clenches really tight in my chest.

I haven't seen him since Wednesday when he told me about Waterloo. We've been texting a little, but we've both been so distracted, waiting for more news.

A small bubble of hope forms in my gut. Maybe he's calling because got into U of T, maybe... "Hey, Luke," I answer softly. I can hear his heavy breathing through the line and the anticipation churns and wriggles in my belly, a gazillion and one possibilities running through my mind.

"Hey, Feelz." No, no. Something's wrong, I can tell from the gruff weakness of his voice, the resignation in his tone. Oh, no, Luke... "I..." He pauses, I can hear him swallow back the dryness from his mouth. "I didn't get into U of T, Ophelia. I just got the email."

My chin starts quivering and my whole body suddenly feels ice cold. "I'm sorry," I breathe. I press my eyes shut as something heavy settles in my chest, over my heart, making it hard to breathe. "I... I just..."

He lets out a low hum that vibrates through the screen, tickles the shell of my ear. "I know. I'm still... shit. I'm gonna come over soon, okay? We can talk about it and figure it out. I'm just talking to my parents but, I'll be there in a little while."

"Okay..." I can tell he's trying to stay strong, so I pinch back the wetness from my eyes and try my best to keep it together too. We'll work it out, right? He's coming over and we'll talk about it and... it'll be okay, it has to be okay...

"I'll see you soon," he repeats quietly.

My throat feels parched and achy when I echo, "See you soon."

And then we both hang up. I shove my phone back into my pocket and lean forward against the island, my forearms pasted to the cool granite.

So, in September, he's gonna have to move away.

He won't live around the corner anymore.