Never Getting Back Together

EIGHTEEN

I flip the page of my Current Issues in Nutrition book even though I didn't absorb a single word I just read. I'm kicked back on the sofa in the pool house. It's covered in brown and orange striped upholstery and looks like something straight out of the seventies. It's cozy, though, and I could definitely use a little comfort right about now.

I rest my open book on my stomach, snatching my cell off the coffee table. I tap on the screen, opening up Instagram. Of my fifteen-thousand followers, over three thousand watched my Livestream today. Thankfully, only two hundred people had tuned in when I went full-Karen on Ty. But since anyone on the World Wide Web could turn me into a gif with a simple screen recording, I'm keeping a very close eye on it. The last thing I need is to become an online laughing stock when I submit my application for the Happy Spoons grant. Especially since my class was a hit and may have given me an actual chance at being chosen.

Everyone seemed to have a great time. I helped them all customize the recipes they brought to substitute natural ingredients. I'm exhausted from hustling back and forth across the room to answer questions and make sure everyone's dishes turned out just right, but it was worth it. Liv got lots of video testimonials from everybody raving about how great the modified recipes tasted. She's going to combine all the clips together, so we can include them with my application.

I push the button on the side of my phone, and it fades to black. As Janet would say, I need to stop worrying about things I can't control. But if I don't keep my mind occupied, I'll start focusing on how guilty I feel over yelling at Ty today. I think he genuinely was there to support me, and I'm not sure what to do with that.

The Ty I used to know would never have gone to a cooking class without pulling some big prank to get a laugh. That Ty could've given Johnny Knoxville a run for his money. It's possible he's changed. Or maybe he just feels bad about what happened in the past, and he's trying to make it up to me. But since we haven't spoken in the past three years, I have no idea what's going through his head. Realizing I don't know who Ty is anymore breaks another piece of my heart.

Ty was my first love and such a huge part of my life. Not knowing him is like waking up one day to find out the sun didn't rise. How am I supposed to navigate the world around me without seeing how he fits into it? And, more importantly, do I even want to?

Every time I'm near Ty, my heart simultaneously leaps and plummets, turning itself into a knot I can't untangle. The chemistry between us is undeniable. I've never been as drawn to another person as I am to Ty. All the memories of the two of us together are fresh in my mind: Ty spending days helping me modify recipes, Ty dancing in the rain with me outside our prom when I said it was my dream rom-com moment, Ty kissing me under a sky of stars and lightning bugs. But all the pain of that last fight is still there too. The hurt of not hearing from him for three entire years is an ugly, raw wound that won't heal.

The air from the ceiling fan catches at the pages of my textbook, flicking them forward and making me lose my spot. I snap the book shut and toss it on the coffee table next to the plate of crumbs—all that's left of the gluten-free cookies I made earlier. I'm about to check Instagram again when the front door swings open, and Liv walks in. Her arms are laden with bags of chips and cans of sparkling water.

"You've got to put that phone away," she says, tossing me a bag of the plantain chips we ordered from Trader Joe's. "I promise you, the internet hasn't changed in the last five seconds, which I'm guessing is how long it's been since you looked."

"You don't know me." I sit up and drop my cell on the cushion beside me. "It's been at least ten seconds."

Liv plops down in one of my mismatched armchairs and slides a can of water to me. It's my favorite flavor, Limoncello.