Page 89 of The Lucky One
“Okay, I’ll go,” I mumbled. “Out the front door this time.”
“I’ll walk you up,” he agreed.
We silently went up the stairs. With each step I took, a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. I was going to Princeton. I would show Yale how stupid they were for making me wait.
Paul opened the door for me. I gave him a polite smile and stepped out into the rainy night.
“You’re wanted, Kiki,” he said.
I turned around, shaking my head. “It’s not enough.”
Crossing my arms against the chilly air, I hurried over to my car. The future was uncertain—but it was mine. I would find someone. Someone who wasn’t hung up on their ex, someone who didn’t feel insecure by my side.
The Triangular Theory of Love
Emily
The sun streamed through the window against a vivid blue sky, illuminating the leaves of my therapist’s potted plant. The plant was nourished by the damp earth beneath, I reflected, and I felt nourished too.
Today I appreciated the artwork on the wall. It reminded me of something—I just couldn’t pinpoint what.
“How are you feeling today, Emily?” Caroline inquired.
My response was immediate. “I’m happy.”
“That’s great.” Her gaze stayed on me, steady and patient. I let a few seconds pass but she didn’t add anything.
“Yeah,” I said, “I’m excited every morning when I wake up. I even beat my alarm clock sometimes, which never happened before.” I darted a glance at the clock on the wall. Shoot, this session was going to be long...
Caroline’s eyes shifted from the clock back to me. “Do you have plans to go somewhere after this?”
“No.” Being in his arms!
I kept that thought to myself. Otherwise I’d get a lecture about not making my entire life dependent on him. I wasn’t naive; I was just deeply in love.
Prom was around the corner. Some people had got their promposals already, and I had this gut feeling that it was my turn soon.
“How’s the situation at home?” Caroline asked, her pen poised to scribble down whatever I had to say.
“With Paul it’s still... tricky,” I confessed. Things with Paul had been different ever since what happened at the lake. He didn’t try to initiate body contact anymore, and when I asked if he wanted to watch Grey with me, he said he wasn’t in the mood. I respected that, but I still missed him.
Caroline sighed. “Are you saying you want Paul to start trying again?” Her placid tone made me grit my teeth.
“Um... no, of course not.” I paused, realizing the irrationality. I was caught in a dilemma—too much attention from Paul made me uneasy, while too little was unsatisfying. “I just want us to talk like we used to. But there’s something weird between us.”
Caroline jotted something down. I wished I could read her notes. “Were you entirely honest with him about your feelings for him?”
I shifted uncomfortably on the worn-down spot on the couch. “I tried once,” I said. “But he said he didn’t want to hear it since it wouldn’t change the situation anyway.”
Caroline nodded knowingly. Her pen danced across the notepad. “It’s a delicate balance. Communication is key, but it’s also about finding the right timing and expressing yourself in a way that doesn’t leave room for interpretation.”
“I don’t want to give him false hope by bringing it up again. I love Jon. And yes, I feel something for Paul too, but I’ve got no right to. I shouldn’t.”
Caroline leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful expression on her face. “It’s not uncommon. Especially at your age, when you get introduced to different types of love.”
“Different types of love?”
“Yes. Did you know that there are eight different types?”