Page 1 of Only Some Stars Fall

ONE

EVERLY

“You knowwe don’t have to move out until Sunday, right, Everly?” Hannah says as she pulls an earbud out of her left ear. She is lying on her stomach across the bed, phone in hand, scrolling social media and swaying her feet back and forth to whatever pop song she has blaring. Hannah doesn’t bother to look at me as she’s currently engrossed in whichever new scandal is being reported.

My roommate is the definition of a procrastinator. The way her closet exploded into her half of the room the first week of classes and never returned to its rightful state, or the amount of junk food on every shelf, as well as the fact she hasn’t moved an inch since returning from her last final this morning, would give any onlooker zero hints that the dorms close in four days. As messy and disorganized as she is though, I couldn’t have asked for a better roommate. Hannah is smart, funny, and a complete sass. Without her, I probably would have barely left the dorm room. Thankfully, she seems to find my obsessivemovie-watching and more low-key vibe comforting, and we will be rooming together again this fall.

I look back and roll my eyes at her. “Yes, thank you for that helpful reminder, smart-ass, but my dad is picking me up first thing before his work shift, so I can’t keep him waiting. Plus, unlike some of us, I still have three finals to study for.” I carefully remove a movie poster from above my bed and roll it up.

Josh, who’s been sitting on the floor studying, laughs at our regularly scheduled banter.

“I’ll miss you, Jerry,” Hannah jokes, blowing a kiss toward the group of teenagers from the eighties.

“It’s Judd, you loser.”

“Okay, you realize that movie came out before we were born, right? Like long before we were born? I would have no idea who they were if it hadn’t been for them creepily staring at me while I slept every night this year.” I glare at her as she puts her earbud back in, resuming her off-key singing.

“You know I could drive you home if you want? Then you wouldn’t have to rush out of here on Sunday. Maybe come by the Beta house for a bit? We’re throwing an end-of-the-year kegger in the afternoon,” Josh suggests with a hopeful smile.

“I appreciate it, but my dad sounded excited to pick me up on the phone earlier. Plus, I start early Monday morning at the country club.” The thought of cleaning up and catering to the rich snobs that inhabit and overwhelm my hometown makes me instantly nauseous.

“Well, if you change your mind…” Josh trails off. He slowly stands up from the floor, stretching his arms overhead, his shirt rising just enough to show those perfect stomach V-lines that disappear beneath his waistband. Oh, lacrosse players, I silently swoon. “I’m going to grab something to eat, wanna come?”

“Thanks, but I really should start studying for my Sociology final. I swear Professor Dunhamhas it out for me.”

“All right then, later.” He disappears through the door. As I climb off my bed, I am met by Hannah’s intense stare. She is now sitting cross-legged on her bed, both earbuds out.

“What?” I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air.

“I just don’t know how you made it the entire year without sleeping with that gorgeous specimen of a man. He may be boring as hell, but damn, Ev, he’s a stud.”

I throw my pillow across the room, hitting her directly in the face with a satisfying smack. “Ugh, not this again! I don’t want to hear it!” The truth is, Josh was one of my first friends when I got to Boston University. I met him at orientation, and like Hannah, he is extremely outgoing and has played a massive role in my somewhat active social life. He’s sweet as can be, even for an extremely wealthy frat boy from Wellesley, and there is no denying his interest in me. But for whatever reason, I don’t feel the same.

As my brain begins the familiar never-ending spiral, “I should just give him a chance,” debate, my cell phone rings. I smile at the name that flashes on the screen.

“Run into any hot A-listers yet?” I ask instead of saying hello.

“Girl, I wish, but I am actually calling with news that might be considered better?” I can tell by Alexandra, my best friend’s winded breathing. She’s probably hustling to get her ass to class since she isn’t always great at being on time.

“Someone from theBrat Pack?” I can’t help but squeal.

“What? No, what is it with you and these eighties bad boys? You realize they are like older than your dad now, right?” She says.

“Okay, okay, don’t ruin it for me. What’s the news?” I ask eagerly.

Since we were kids, Alex, who has refused to be calledAlexandra, her birth name, since she could talk, complaining it’s too proper, has wanted to work in film.

During high school, her eyes were set on UCLA, and UCLA only, and of course, she was accepted. I was so happy for her but also felt a stab of jealousy and sadness. I had always secretly dreamed about working in the entertainment industry but lacked the confidence or the fearlessness to make that jump. I had briefly thought about following Alex out there, but the insecurities and idea of being that far from my dad and brother had me opting for a college close to the small suburb of Boston Alex and I call home.

“Well, first, the bad news,” she says, sounding disappointed. “My internship with that streaming platform fell through, which totally sucks. I’m sorry, but your dreams of meeting your favorite celebs may not come true.” Embarrassingly enough, I am, in fact, a little disappointed but hold my breath for what I pray she will say next. “But… that means I’m coming home for the summer!” she enthusiastically yells into the phone. I let out a scream so loud Hannah jumps off her bed, frantically looking for the fire.

“No way? You have no idea how happy you just made me! I thought it was going to be just me at the country club this year, and well, I’ve been making lists of all the different ways I would rather torture myself. It’s not a pretty list,” I joke.

For the last two summers, Alex and I have worked together, her as a waitress in the restaurant and me cleaning up after some of the horrible humans who pay absurd amounts of money to be preferred members at such a place. Sometimes, I even get the honor of caddying for the perverted old men or babysitting their entitled children in the onsite daycare.

“Hold on, I should probably clarify,” she says slowly, and I don’t like the sound of her change of tone. “I’m coming back East for the summer, but not home to Massachusetts.”

“If not back to Mass, then where?” Now I am truly confused and wish she would just rip the Band-Aid off.

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