Page 38 of If We Meet Again

“Do I make you laugh, though?”

“I’m laughing at you, not with you.”

“That hurts.”

Megan grinned. Her eyelids felt weighted now. The last person had been informed of her future plans so she could finally relax. Ashley was the last person she told, but oddly, the first person on her mind when she found out.

“Are you almost home?”

“Sure am. Two minutes away.”

“Good, I’m ready for bed. You must beexhausted?”

“You get used to the late nights after a while. I’ll wait up for Madison and we’ll probably eat pizza and watch a movie before we finally crash.”

“Seriously? Oh god, I don’t know howyou do it.”

“Habit, I guess.”

“Will you text me tomorrow and we can arrange somethingnext week?”

“You bet.”

“Great. Goodnight, Ashley.”

“Sweet dreams, Megan.”

The only thing to do now was rest her head, recharge and let the unpredictability of her dreams sweep her to a place where everything made sense. That was the thing about dreams—they help to process emotion, subconsciously prioritising thoughts and feelings, allowing humans to make sense of the challenges they face.

***

The next day passed with no contact from Ashley. When the clock struck 10:00 p.m. she assumed there would be a reasonable excuse—an early start at work, a family emergency, some unforeseen circumstance that would stop her from checking in. Then, as the night turned into early morning, she was left disappointed. She couldn’t help but think that Ashley’s desire to see each other again didn’t match her own.

Megan had no right to expect anything from her—she knew that. People go on dates all the time and never see each other again. That was life. She told herself she would text her the next day if she’d heard nothing. That wasn’t needy at all, because she’d waited a full twenty-four hours. That alone highlighted everything that was wrong with her generation, too worriedabout pride.

Megan poured herself a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. The perks of living with Julie. She was a health enthusiast; nothing entered her body that didn’t add nutritional value. The fridge was always filled with fresh fruit and vegetables of every kind, and the bonus was a freshly squeezed glass of juice every day. The day before it had been celery, this morning it was orange—she couldn’t complain.

“How’s your juice?” Julie emerged from the bathroom.

“Perfect, thank you. I thought you’d have left for work by now.”

“I have a quiet day today. I don’t need to head in untillunchtime.”

“But you’ve still been up since five this morning?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t you ever just want a morning in bed?”

Julie side-eyed Megan. “Do you ever have a day where you don’t want to playbasketball?”

“Nope.”

“Exactly, because it’s a habit. If you build strong habits, you have a happy and healthy life.”

Megan thought about that. “I see.”

“What do you have planned today?” Julie reached for a bowl and began her usual morning breakfast routine, another habit Megan observed.