Dear Jon (21 page)

“Well, still,” Billy, Shu’s new roommate says, “you got to sleep with Livvy Holland.”

I glance at Fred uneasily. This isn’t something I want to talk about, and I’m tempted to walk away. He shrugs, and I sense he’s telling me to do the same. Shrug it off. He puts his arm around his girlfriend, who I hadn’t even noticed joined us at some point.

“Yeah,” I say simply, quietly, my response clipped, my eyes glaring at the guy who asked the prying question.

“What was
that
like?” he prods further.

“Shhh!” Fred says sitting up straight. I look back over at him, grateful that he is stopping the conversation. “She’s behind you.”

All eyes on me, I turn slowly to see if she’s really there. Before I can even see her, others in my group confirm what my roommate already said.

“It’s her!”

“She’s hotter in person.”

When my eyes finally meet hers, I have to look away quickly. She’s hotter than she was in my memory. Granted, she, too, is wearing shorts and a tank. Her shorts are
short
, and her top is
tight
.

Get it together, Jon.

My group is silent as I take a few breaths, deciding what to do. This isn’t the time or place for a conversation with her. I don’t feel like myself, and I haven’t prepared enough for this moment.

I stand quickly, avoiding eye contact with anyone around me, and walk toward her. “What are you doing here?” I ask her urgently, quietly.

“I have this for you,” she says, holding a letter out for me. I’m smiling on the inside, but try to maintain my composure as I take it from her. Something inside is weighting it as I tap it in my palm, trying to figure out what it is.

“Thanks.” I drop my hands and turn slightly.

“Jon.” Her hands hold on to the hem of my shirt. “We need to talk.”

When I look again, I notice the necklace that she had worn nearly every moment we’d been together since I gave it to her is no longer there.

That’s what’s in the envelope.
It feels like my lungs collapse.

I remove her hand and let go of it.

I swallow, wanting to avoid a scene in front of my friends and classmates. “Go home, Liv.”

“Will you read it?” she asks. I don’t want to open it at all. I can’t be sure it’s the necklace until I see it. So, no, I don’t want to open it. I shrug my shoulders. “Have you read any of them?”

Saying ‘yes’ will lead into more of a conversation.
Why’d you give up on us, Livvy? I thought you wanted me. You spent all summer telling me that, and for what? For you to publicly break up with me? In front of a crowd, again?
It takes me every ounce of energy to remain unaffected.
“I had a busy summer.”

“Oh,” she breathes. I can see the pain that causes her.

“Go home, Liv,” I tell her again, feeling my blood pressure rise as my heart pounds in my chest. “Freshman move-in day isn’t for another few days.”

“Right,” she says, looking even more hurt. I can’t stand seeing her like that.

“Where’d you park?” I have to get away from the curious eyes of the other people around me. I don’t want to see Livvy’s pain, and I don’t want anyone else to see mine. I guide her back to the direction I assume she came from. She starts to pull away, angling her walk until I notice her car at the curb.

“I thought we could talk. I thought you could start to forgive me.” The look in her eyes crushes me. She’s starting to cry. I feel weak.

“Here.” I hold her close to me, rubbing her neck just below her hairline. She looks cute in a ponytail. She hardly ever wears her hair like that, but I can’t blame her, with this heat. And her hair smells like paint. She must have been painting at the loft. I breathe it in slowly, relishing in the scent.

Her shoulders move as she lets her emotions out in waves. She steps even closer to me, a posture that’s too familiar and intimate and I’m sure she can tell I’m turned on. She can’t think it’ll be this easy.

“It can’t be like it was, Liv. I’ve changed,” I tell her quickly as I step back, putting a little space between us. “Go home,” I plead in a whisper. If she doesn’t go home soon, I’ll change my mind. I’ll go against everything I’d planned. I’ll tell Fred to find another place to stay and take her back to my room. I’ll make it easy.

But does she even want that anymore? She’s given me back her necklace.

She looks up at me, licking her lips ever so slightly, as if preparing for a kiss.

I let go of her.

“I–” I put my finger over her lips. I don’t want to hear anything more. She has to leave. She has to get out–of my arms, my personal space, my field of vision, my neighborhood–before I cave and take everything I want from her.

“Go home, Livvy.” This time, I say it with more authority.
Please, just go, baby
.

“Please read them,” she pleads, glancing at the letter I’m gripping tightly in my hand as she gets into her car. I hold the door for her. “Read them all.”

I have. I have read, lived, and felt every last word, Liv.
“I’ll try.” I shut the door, happy to have something dividing us. She rolls her window down, fighting the barriers I keep hoping for; needing.

“Do you promise?” she asks.

She wants another promise from me. I lean toward her car, needing the support, and put my hand on the door where the window had been. She immediately puts hers on top of mine.

My eyes begin to water, thinking of all the promises–kept ones, broken ones. I look down before she can see my emotions and breathe a few times for composure. I need to walk away before I completely break down.

“I guess I’ll see you around.” I take my hand from hers–the same hand that yearns to hold hers like it did that night in Mykonos. I feel a lump in my throat and turn my back to her.

“No,” she says, stopping me. “I’ll be at Yale.”

Yale? Don’t go. You were supposed to be here with me. I have it planned, Liv. We were going to work this all out. Somehow, over time, with casual interactions and dates and late nights drawing and painting. If you go to Yale, I’ll never see you. I’ll never get to find out if this is how it’s supposed to be.

So then is it
not
supposed to be like this? I have so many questions for her, but can’t formulate a single one.

“Goodbye, Jon,” she says.

“Yeah,” I say, releasing all the air from my lungs. “Bye, Livvy.” I stare after her, watching until her car is out of sight.

The humidity feels like it’s trying to strangle me. The muscles in my throat cut off my air.
I can’t believe she’s leaving me.
I have nowhere to go to find solace. When I turn around, the outdoor party continues with music and dancing and food and drinks, and I want no part of it.

I go directly into the dorm and up to the second floor to our room. It’s dark and quiet and I don’t care if it’s hot. I need to be alone. I open the windows all the way, and feel a hot breeze that brings a little relief. After taking off my shirt, I lie on top of my comforter and take my phone out of my pocket. It’s dead. I wasn’t going to call her, but I was wanting the display to illuminate her letter. What would this one say? I’m almost certain it’s the last one.

Maybe I can read by the window, and the moon can provide enough light to see what she’s written. I get up and open the envelope, not remembering something was inside until it falls onto my foot and the floor with a soft clink. I don’t need to be able to see it. I bend over to pick it up, and feel it between my fingers.

Choisie
. I can feel the engraving.

No, baby. Don’t do this.

I put the letter on the desk and lie back down, letting the tears fall. I retrace the steps of the night, thinking over the things I said, what she’d spoken to me. How I held her. How she wanted to be closer. How she was wearing the ring I’d given to her.

Wait,
was she?
She was!
I remember feeling the cool metal against my knuckle when my hand was on her car. I’d taken the sight of it for granted. I’d seen it so many times it had become an extension of her. But I know she was wearing it.

I don’t understand why the necklace is back in my possession, and I guess I won’t know until I read that final letter, but I’m confident the
goodbye
she spoke won’t be the last one.

How is this going to work?

I take measured breaths to calm myself, trying to figure out my next move. There will be no chance meetings in the hallway. No excuses to linger late in the art building in hopes of seeing her. No offers to help with her Contemporary Civilization class. No common parties. No gallery shows that I know she’ll be attending.

There’s no longer an opportunity for that casual, accidental friendship I was wanting. I didn’t want to immediately return to the absolute commitment of
everything
. I didn’t want her to know that I was purposeful in my desires to see her. Because–let’s face it–I want her back.

And it’s okay for me to want her back.

If I want to
get
her back, I will have to formally face her. It will have to be contemplated. It will have to be planned. It will have to be premeditated. She will know I still want to work things out.

And that, too, is okay. I
should
be honest with her. I should stop my brain from interfering and creating these false environments for me to live within the confines of.

So what if I want Olivia Holland back? I smile, then say it aloud. “I want Olivia Holland back. I want Olivia Holland back!” Maybe it’s the heat, but I’m feeling deliriously ecstatic. I feel settled. I feel like things are falling into place, even though it’s not the place my brain thought it would be. We can work this out. And we will. And it
will
be easy. I have to do one little thing; follow one piece of advice my mother had given me.

I just have to follow my heart. It’s the only choice I have to make, and it’s the easiest one I’ve ever made.

If I follow my heart, good things will happen.

Emi Lost & Found series

Book One: Lost and Found

Book Two: Time Stands Still

Book Three: Never Look Back

Prequel: Not Today, But Someday

Choisie series

Book One: Contessa

Book Two: Olivia

Book Three: Dear Jon

Book Four: Livvy (coming soon)

Stephen War & Peace series

Prequel: Number 7

For extra content, please visit authorlorilotto.wordpress.com/extras

Nikki Haw, for being there when this idea to write from Jon’s point of view was born. Thank you for always brainstorming with me and for knowing my characters just as well as I do.

Daniela Conde, for being such a positive and creative person. Thank you so much for your support, and for all the graphics you’ve done for me!

Street Team Emi, for helping to spread the word about Emi and Livvy.

Angela Meyer, Christi Allen Curtis, and Katrina Boone for being very early readers of this book. Sorry you had to suffer through so many typos!

So many blogs for giving my books a little boost! There are too many of you to thank, but I know you all know how grateful I am.

Inspired by popular fiction and encouraged by close friends, Lori L. Otto returned to writing in the winter of 2008. After a sixteen-year hiatus, she rediscovered her passion for fiction and began writing what would soon become her first series: Emi Lost & Found. Although the books of Nate, Emi and Jack have concluded, other characters from the books continued their own journeys, demanding their stories be told.

Lori is currently working on two spin-off series. Contessa, the first in the Choisie series, is Lori’s fourth full-length novel, and her first foray into the Young Adult / New Adult genre.

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