Abby Ryan has her whole life planned out, up until graduation that is. As a journalism student at the University of Southern Washington, she has one goal in mind for her last semester of senior year: secure a scholarship for graduate school. But whe...
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I've had a wild and riveting first day of spring break so far.
I've been ignoring my mother's phone calls all morning, and when my phone vibrates against the hardwood floor next to me, I reach for the remote to increase the volume on the TV. I was supposed to fly to Florida this morning, but I know she had a heads up that I wasn't coming because it sent a cancellation confirmation email to both of us when I canceled the ticket. She's been calling me nonstop ever since.
I sent a text letting her know that I was okay and that I was going to stay in Pullman for the break to catch up on schoolwork, but I know she saw right through that excuse because she didn't even bother texting back. Instead, she just calls every few hours, hoping that I'll pick up so she can lecture me about "sticking to plans that I've made" and how "last-minute cancellations impact everyone around me, not just myself." And while that alone would have been enough of a reason to avoid her calls, I'm sure she's also going to dig for information about Tristan.
The last time we spoke, I told her we were broken up because at the time we were, but now that we're back together, I'm not going to lie to her about it. If my conversation with Marina St. Clair taught me anything, it's that my mother has a lot of great advice and she really does just want to protect me; but in the end, this is my life, it's my choice, and it's my opinion that matters more than anything else.
I could spend my entire life trying to please my mother and still never get the validation I'm searching for because she'll never give it to me. So, it may have taken me almost twenty-one years to figure it out, but now I know that I need to value and trust my own decisions enough to be confident in my choices. And if she supports me, that's great, but if not, that's okay, too. I support me, and that's enough.
But for the sake of not ruining my entire spring break, I'm going to avoid that conversation until after we get back from our trip.
The soft knock on my bedroom door pulls me away from typing on my laptop, and when I look over, Tristan's smiling down at me from the doorway. He seems amused that I'm sitting on my floor with an explosion of papers surrounding me, but I just smile up at him as he runs a hand through his damp curls. I'm a little too distracted by how good his crimson Warriors Basketball hoodie and black Nike joggers look on him that I don't notice the bag in his hand until he drops down onto my bed, sprawling his long legs out across the mattress.
His gaze flicks down to the box of cereal I've been grazing on all morning, too busy to actually go out and make myself a proper breakfast, and I nudge it out of sight with my elbow as I bite back a laugh.
I woke up at four this morning, curled up in bed beside him, listening to the soft rainfall pattering against the window. But no matter how hard I tried to fall back asleep, to enjoy the last hour with him in bed before he had to get up for his morning workout, I couldn't because Marina St. Clair's words have been echoing through my head ever since I heard her say them.
