Page 82 of Palm South University: Season 3

“I didn’t,” I try, but my voice breaks.

“I love you. And you said you loved me, too.” He shakes his head, jaw tight. “This isn’t how you treat someone you love.”

“I’m sorry,” I choke, letting the tears run. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too,” he says, finally lifting his eyes to mine. He searches them, looking for the girl he knew, the girl he fell in love with. When he shakes his head, I know he’s come up empty handed. “I have to go.”

“Jarrett, please.”

But the screen just goes dark like the rest of my world.

I’ve read about these sensory deprivation tanks, where you lie in a tub of water filled with Epson salt to make you float in a soundproof pod with no light. You just float there, completely weightless, emerging on the other side of the experience almost as if in a trance. Some claim it has healing effects, others claim hallucination.

That’s the closest comparison I can make to how I feel right now, lying on my bedroom floor, in the exact same place I fell last night after Jarrett ended our call. I only know it’s morning because light started breaking through the curtains at some point, though I have no idea how long ago that was. Everything is numb. Everything is on fire. My eyes sting and burn, my brain replaying every word he said, every word he didn’t. But somewhere in the numb of the night, I came to a conclusion.

I don’t want to fall apart.

I earned my nickname, J-Love, because when I was younger I said I loved pretty much any guy who gave me his attention. And though what I had with Jarrett was much realer than that, in the end, I can’t help but feel like I lost a little part of myself with him, too. I don’t want to let the end of our relationship be the end of me.

I know I’ll need to break, and cry, and I know in the deepest part of my being that there is no getting over Jarrett. Not really. He will always own a part of my heart, and losing him will forever be one of my biggest regrets. But I want to grieve in silence, alone.

Jess Vonnegut is a bad ass. She is a vixen, a fighter, a man-eater, a tough bitch. She doesn’t stop the party for any drama, and she doesn’t stop her life for any boy.

Swiping at my face as if it isn’t already dry, I crawl to the desk and pull my phone down, sinking against the drawers as I type out a text to Greg.

- Take a break from studying turtle facts tonight and go to Semi-formal with me. -

I drop the phone to the floor beside me, kneading my temples, my head throbbing between my fingers. When my phone buzzes, I unlock it quickly, smiling as much as I physically can in this moment at his response.

- I’ll bring the vodka. -

And I’m not sure how much longer I lie there before eventually peeling myself off the floor, along with what’s left of my dignity, holding onto it as tight as I can. Soon, the girls are all getting ready, music blasting, makeup and hair product everywhere. I tell them about Jarrett with a straight face, my tears all spilled last night, and they console me. Ashlei asks if I want to skip Semi. Skyler wants me to talk about it. But I decline both offers, telling them I already invited Greg, and I’m fine.

It’s a lie, and they know it, but they don’t press me on it.

At least for tonight, I’m going to be okay. I’m going to dance and sing, laugh and party, and pretend like everything will be okay. I’ll fake it until I make it — make it back home, that is. And then, I’ll have three weeks of winter break to get over it.

That’s that.

When the limos are pulling up outside, I pull up Jarrett’s name and type out one last text before blocking his number and tucking my phone in my clutch, ripping the Band-Aid off, ready to scab and heal.

- I will always love you. -