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Camila

Then what is the point?

Taylor

The point is I keep saying I want to travel and I never do. Plus I don’t have anything stopping me right now.

Camila

Okay but MOVE?!

I rereadthe text a few more times, and between the piles of clothes crowding around me andnot having a clear idea of how to respond, I start to feel overwhelmed.I need a new start. Like in Eat, Pray, Love. Except I never had a husband, a successful career, or anything even remotely resembling stability. Other than that, it’s the same thing.

I push up to my knees, reach over a mound of sweatpants, and grasp onto the handle of my suitcase. My suitcase that likely still has a bikini in it from that last trip I took. I sit back down with my legs crossed and my shoulders hunched over, and a full three minutes pass before I realize I’m having a face-off with a large aluminum rectangle. Unfortunately for me, the two minutes I took to text my best friend has now completely thrown off my flow of packing.

Pack, shower, eat. You got this.It’s humiliating that I need to give myself a pep talk to get the simplest shit done, but starting a new task can just be so burdensome for me sometimes. I have a mental list of things I need to get done but rather than start chipping away at my to-do list, I let its weight knock me back into a stack of jeans and begin doom-scrolling.

Fuck. I forgot to text Camila back.

Taylor

Okay maybe not move… That sounds dramatic.

Camila

And we both know you would never be dramatic about anything.

Taylor

Exactly. So let’s call it an extended vacation.

Camila

Okay?... For how long?

Taylor

Come over tomorrow morning. We’ll chitty chat about it all then.

Camila

I’ll be there bright and early with coffee.

I start typing that bright and early isn’t necessary, considering I loathe mornings, but I know it’s pointless. Camila is likely festering in worry enough as it is.

Okay. Get up and take a shower. Do something.I groan as I find myself in this seemingly never-ending cycle of being unable to start the simple task of getting in the shower, even though I know I won’t want to get out once I’m in. I’ve already let too many things get away from me this evening, I can do this one thing. I pull myself from my bedroom floor and clear the four feet of space it takes to get to my bathroom. My phone buzzes in my hand before I can set it on the nonexistent vanity and I hold it up, smiling when I find a picture of Jonas chugging a beer with one hand and flipping the camera off with the other.

“What’s up, Jo bro?”

“Annie Oakley. What are you doing?” he shouts louder than necessary. “Scratch that. Better question, why are you not here already?”

“Here where?” I ask, leaning against the sink.

“I’m atThe Local. Come down.” I bite my thumbnail, smiling at the memory of Camila and me choosing this exact apartment for no reason other than its close proximity to one of the best bars in town. We could have gotten a two-bedroom a little further out of the city in a neighborhood surrounded by some pretty nice homes, but it felt like a right of passage to live in this seven-floor walk-up with a lock you have to shovethe key in a certain way and shake a little before turning in order to open it.

“Sorry, dude. I still have to pack.”

“Pack tomorrow. It’s criminal that you thought you could text me this morning saying you were leaving for a month and didn’t think I would demand one last hang out.” I gnaw at the inside of my cheek, considering this as an excuse to put my shit off a little while longer. “Taylor Grace Nova.”