Page 49 of Breakaway Goal

And I’m not standing in a corner, a tangled mess of nerves; nor do I have my head tucked into my phone, desperate to blend into the background and scared of being noticed.

Hannah, the girl from my Abstract Painting class, invited me to a party one of her friends is throwing at their off-campus house. I have to admit, walking into the house by myself when the party was already in full swing was intimidating.

But I did it, found a group of people to introduce myself to, and for the last couple hours I’ve been having a great time talking to fellow art students.

I’m actually having the kind of college experience that I dreamed of having last year. The kind I thought so often I never would.

I still feel some twinges of anxiety. I’m still in my head more than I should be. But I’m doing it. I’m socializing, makingacquaintances, and having fun. I even volunteered to put on one of my playlists as the background music.

Bled Whiteby Elliott Smith starts playing, and a small ache pangs in my chest. It’s one of my favorite songs—not just that, it’s one of my and Rhys’s favorite songs.

I can’t help but associate the melody with times hanging out with him. We haven’t talked in a week, and I miss him.

At the same time, I’m still mad at him. He tried to ruin my first date, and he embarrassed me in front of the first guy who’s ever been interested in me.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that I wasted so much time and emotional energy pining for him—when I finally try to move past it and find a realistic relationship,he’sthe one who tries to screw it up for me.

Out of what? Protectiveness? Worry for me?

The thing is, Rhys has always respected my independence and competence. He knows I don’t need a babysitter. None of what he did makes sense.

Ugh, now I’ve just spent how many minutes thinking about him, totally zoned out of the conversation I was in. I’m sitting on a couch in the living room that half a dozen other art students are gathered around, talking about their favorite places they’ve traveled to.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and look up. A small spark of excitement lights in my chest when I see James looking down at me from behind the couch, smiling.

We’ve talked in our Figure Drawing class since last Friday, but he hasn’t asked me out on another date. After what happened on the first, I can’t say I blame him.

I get up from the couch, since the group I was talking to have already moved onto another topic while I was zoned out.

“Hey, James, what’s up?” I ask, rounding the armrest of the couch to stand near him.

“Not much. Glad to see you here. I don’t think I’ve seen you at a party before.”

He’sglad to see me here. The spark in my chest grows a little bigger.

“It might be hard to believe, but I’m not the biggest party girl,” I joke. “I’ve hardly been to any. Except sometimes I go to ones the hockey team throws.”

James nods. “Your brother’s the captain, right?”

I cringe a little as I realize I just basically admitted that the only way I’ve gotten any party invites until now is by riding my older brother’s coattails. “Yeah.”

A grin curls on his lips. “I guess he’s the over-protective type? That’s why he sent one of his teammates to chaperone us?”

A knot of embarrassment forms in my throat. “No, he’s not. Rhys is a friend, he was just …” I shake my head. He was justwhat? “I don’t know. He was being weird. I’m so sorry about all that.”

The smile still rests easy on James’s face. He shrugs. “No biggie. I’ll invite someone to show up and act like a nut during our next date, and we’ll call it even.”

Our next date? After all that, he still wants to go out again?

A smile of relief tugs at my mouth.

I wait for a twinge of excitement to hit me in the chest, or for my nerves to flutter, or for my stomach to twist in anticipation. And maybe I feel each of those things a little bit, but … not as much as I feel like I should.

What’s with me? I was just feeling depressed, thinking that James wouldn’t want to go out with me again. Now that he’s made it clear that he does … I feel relief, a little bit of gladness … but where’s the giddy sensation I should be feeling at the prospect of going on a second date with a guy I like, a guy I have chemistry with, who’s standing right in front of me looking handsome and smiling at me?

Is something broken inside me? Did I spend so much of my life hopelessly hung up on Rhys Callahan that I’ve lost the ability to feel anything for anyone else? Is my capacity for excitement and desire permanently dulled for every other guy except the one I can’t have?

No, that’s ridiculous. I need to stop myself from spiraling with worry and doubt.

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