Saying Goodbye, Part One (Passports and Promises Book 1) (12 page)

I rolled to my side and reached up to brush the leaves from his hair. “I’ll be gone soon. You know that. Are you going to be okay?”

His lips curved into a crooked smile. “I’m okay now. At this moment. There’s no sense in worrying about anything else because there’s nothing we can do about it. Nothing lasts forever, sweet Sam. You’ll be back before we know it.”

I’d assumed we’d break up before I left, and that was something we’d have to discuss, but I saw no point in bringing it up right now. He seemed so happy, and I didn’t want to fight. I was tired of fighting, and of continuously feeling the need to defend myself. To Dylan. To Bethany. To Max. To everyone.

That night he stayed over, but we didn’t have sex. Instead, we fell asleep fully clothed, curled up in each other’s arms. Somehow, in many ways, it seemed more intimate than all the other nights we’d spent together. I put my ear against his chest and sighed, drifting off to sleep with the sound of Dylan’s heart beating out its rhythmic song like a lullaby in my ear.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

M
idterms hit, and I barely saw Dylan. I spent most of my time in the library, poring over hundreds and hundreds of kanji until my vision blurred and I put my head down on the desk in defeat. My classmate, Hana, sat next to me, diligently copying the intricate strokes onto notecards as she blew her long, dark bangs away from her face.

“Come on, Sam. We’re almost there.”

Hana’s parents were
ni-sei
, or second generation Japanese, born in Hawaii. Hana had grown up surrounded by Japanese culture, but her parents and grandparents had spoken very little Japanese at home. She also planned on attending Ritsumeikan Daigaku in the spring, so basically we were in the same boat.

When I first saw Hana, I thought she looked very Japanese. But the more time I spent around actual Japanese people, the more I realized Hana looked Hawaiian. She didn’t walk like Japanese people. She certainly didn’t talk like Japanese people. She dressed like a surfer chick, and she still had the remnants of a tan from all the time she spent in the sun. She was completely adorable, and I was so glad she’d be at Ritsumeikan with me. Even better, I’d just heard back from Dr. Tanaka that Hana would be my roommate.

“You’re so good at kanji
.
” Too tired to lift my head, I rested my cheek on my textbook and watched her write. “How can you remember them all?”

“Well, dude, I write them down. Over and over and over again. And I try to break them into smaller parts. Look at this one, the symbol for woman,
onna
, is inside. Find the kanji inside the kanji
and it makes it a lot easier.”

“The kanji inside the kanji? FML. I’m doomed.”

She laughed. “You’ll get it, don’t worry. You’re just a ball of stress. You need to chill.”

“I can’t chill. I’m unchillable.” I grabbed some index cards and started writing. Hana was right. There were kanji inside the kanji. “I never thought of doing it this way. It’s so much easier.”

“The perks of having a Japanese grandmother. She taught me how to do that, but my problem isn’t with the writing. It’s with the speaking.” She shook her head. “Every time I open my mouth, it’s a disaster.”

“Try not to translate. Just let it flow.”

She snorted. “Easy for you to say. You’re a natural. And having a Japanese face is actually a detriment.”

“What do you mean?”

She twirled her pencil in her fingers. “If you make a mistake when you speak, white girl, it’s no big deal. You’re obviously not Japanese. People will applaud you for making the effort and forgive you for not being perfect. If I make a mistake, even a tiny one, it’s a totally different story. I learned that when I went to Japan last summer with my parents. People were
mean.
”

“Why?”

“I look Japanese. It throws them off. They don’t want to be cruel…” She tapped her pencil against her chin, a faraway look in her eyes. “They don’t like differences. Do you remember that saying we learned from Dr. Brown in Japanese anthropology last week?”

“
The nail that sticks out will be hammered back into place.”

She nodded. “In Japan, I’m that nail.”

“Then why do you want to go there?”

“Because I love it and it’s freaking awesome. It’s a beautiful country, and it’s where my ancestors came from. Even if I’m an outsider, I still feel connected there. Why do you want to go, Sam?”

“Kind of the same reason, except for the ancestors part, obviously. It’s so different from everything I’ve ever known. And it’s a challenge. The language, the culture, everything. And I need to improve my kanji or I’ll never pass that test in April. Going to Japan for a semester seemed like the best way.”

I thought about what Dr. Tanaka had said about finding myself there. I wondered if that was even possible. Until very recently, I hadn’t even realized I was lost.

I saw Max walk through the library and excused myself. Hana, hard at work, just waved me off. I caught up with him and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket to stop him. He turned, and as soon as he saw me his eyes grew shuttered.

“Can we talk a second?” I asked.

He shrugged and we went off to sit at a table in the corner. He heaved his backpack onto the table and took off his jacket, hanging it on the back of his chair. When he sat down, he leaned back, rocking on the back two legs of the chair.

“What do you want, Sam?”

I slid into the seat across from him, my hands folded in front of me. “I wanted to apologize. For my birthday.”

“Which part?”

My cheeks grew hot, and Max laughed. “Oh. That part.”

“I’m sorry, Max. I shouldn’t have done that.

He looked around the library, at the books and students and even at the traffic outside on the street. Anything to avoid looking at me. The library was open and airy, with tall ceilings and windows that stretched two stories high.

“You don’t have to apologize. You made it clear it didn’t mean anything to you.”

I blinked in surprise and leaned forward on the table. “Why would you say that?”

Max leaned forward, too. Only inches separated us, and he spoke in an angry hiss. “Because five seconds later, you were making out with Dylan.”

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“What am I?”

I rubbed my eyes. “I don’t know. My ex-boyfriend. One of my best friends. You’re a lot of things to me.”

His shoulders slumped. “I’m also your
boyfriend’s
fraternity brother. We can’t forget that one.”

He looked so sad I wanted to reach out to him. Instead, I put my hands under my legs and sat on them. I didn’t want to touch Max. Not even by accident. We’d already played with fire once. I couldn’t do it again.

“Did your parents come up for your birthday?”

I nodded. “Sophie was mad because she didn’t get to see you.”

“Now that would have been interesting,” he said with a laugh.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

He sighed. “I know. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not your fault either.”

“Yes, it is,” he said and I looked up at him in surprise. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “I didn’t plan on it happening, but I wanted it to happen. That kiss meant something to me, Sam, and so do you. To say otherwise would be a total lie.”

He stared at me, his brown eyes sad, waiting for me to respond, but I couldn’t. I stood up and went back to my desk, then I tried to study with Hana, but I couldn’t focus. Max’s words had shaken me up more than I cared to admit. He told me the truth, and it made me see I’d been lying to myself the whole time.

That kiss hadn’t been an accident. I didn’t know when or how things changed between us, but I’d wanted it. I wanted him. The problem was, I wanted Dylan, too.

I got through midterms, doing better than expected. I think part of it had to do with the strict “No Dylan” policy I’d instituted for the week. He hadn’t been happy about it, but he distracted me, and I needed to focus during midterms. He called every day, and we texted quite a bit, but I didn’t see him until midterms were over and the time came for the Theta formal.

My dress was gorgeous. Strapless and gold, it flared out just below my hips and floated all the way down to my red painted toes sticking out of my high-heeled shoes. I piled my hair up on top of my hair and let a few strands fall down in a cascade of curls. I put on lotion that smelled like honeysuckle and added a glimmer of sparkle to my skin. I spent a lot of time on my makeup, something I usually didn’t do, and completed the look with an intricate gold choker necklace and dangly earrings.

“You look like a movie star,” said Gabriela. She and Bethany had come to the Theta house to get ready. The entire place was filled with excitement and the sounds of laughter.

“You look beautiful yourself.” I touched the beading on her amethyst dress. “This is gorgeous.”

“It was my prom dress.” She gave me an embarrassed little smile. “Reuse and recycle.”

“Why not? It’s so pretty. If I were you, I’d want to wear it over and over again.”

She spun around, letting the skirt flutter around her ankles. “I do love it.”

Bethany’s dress, a bright blue that matched her eyes, emphasized her curves while still being classy and elegant. Bethany was always classy and elegant. She’d pulled her blond hair into a chignon at the nape of her neck and wore silver jewelry that sparkled as she moved and looked antique. I held up her hand to study the bracelet on her wrist.

“This is amazing.”

“It was my great grandmother’s,” she said. “My grandmother gave me some of her jewelry when I turned eighteen.”

Bethany came from an extremely wealthy family, but she was not a snob. After being at school for a year and a half, I’d learned to recognize the difference between old and new money. People with old money didn’t feel like they had anything to prove, so they didn’t flaunt their wealth. Bethany and Dylan both fell into that category, as did Greg. Max’s family was wealthy, too, but definitely new money. Although he’d never worried about money a day in his life, he wasn’t one of the trust fund babies. Limo rides and luxury hotels were still exciting for him.

My parents were solidly middle class. We had nothing to flaunt. Gabriela’s parents hovered just below that, in an area reserved for the hardworking poor. Even though she went to school for free, and had a scholarship from Kappa Alpha Theta that covered her sorority dues, sometimes it was hard for her since her classes were often filled with the children of very wealthy people. Her clothes were always nice, but she shopped at thrift shops and consignment stores. And when the other students planned ski trips to Vale and spring break vacations in Florida, Gabriela always gently backed out of the conversation. Even without buying a dress, the formal was a huge expense for her. She’d been saving up pennies from her part-time job just to cover the cost of the tickets.

The formal would be held at The Winston, the fanciest hotel in town. Greg’s parents reserved a suite for us, so we’d all stay over together. It sounded like fun; I just wasn’t sure how it would be having both Dylan and Max around me the whole night. I was a bundle of nerves by the time the limo pulled up outside. Max emerged from the sunroof, a bottle of champagne in hand, singing at the top of his lungs and waving to Gabriela in the window. She giggled and waved back.

We made a grand entrance, walking down the steps one girl at a time. The guys, very dapper in their tuxedos, waited for us at the bottom. I went first, and Dylan’s weren’t the only eyes on me, but I refused to look at Max. Dylan handed me a bouquet of flowers.

“You look amazing,” he said as he kissed me softly on the cheek. He leaned closer to whisper in my ear, “And I missed you. A lot.”

I smiled, sticking my nose in the roses to hide my embarrassment. I missed him, too, but this was so awkward.

Bethany came down the steps next and Greg swung her around and then dipped her backward and pretended to kiss her neck. They’d known each other forever. It showed.

Gabriela hovered at the top of the steps, nervous and pale. Max moved forward and held out his hand to her. She gave him a shy little smile and walked down to join us. I looked at Bethany and we both heaved a huge sigh of relief. I’d been secretly afraid Gabriela might back out at the last minute. Apparently, Bethany had been worried, too.

We piled into the limo, and Greg poured each of us a glass of champagne. It was obvious the guys had started drinking a while ago. Dylan’s eyes were already slightly glazed and he was extremely giggly. He took his glass of champagne and drained it quickly, holding it out for more. Greg grinned and happily complied.

“We’ve got the old Dylan back,” he said, and they clinked glasses.

When Dylan drained another glass, I nudged him with my elbow. “Slow down,” I whispered.

He stiffened and a shadow of annoyance crossed his face. “What is your problem, Sam? I’m just having fun.”

Everyone in the limousine grew silent. I swallowed hard. Bethany saved me. “Look. There’s the hotel.”

We pulled up in front of The Winston and a valet opened the door for us. Dylan took my hand to help me out. I couldn’t quite meet his eyes. He pulled me close.

“Sorry, Sam. That came out harsher than I intended.”

“It’s okay,” I said, even though it wasn’t.

He grinned at me. “I can’t wait to see our room. Tonight is going to be so much fun.”

The doorman wore a top hat and tails, and a porter rushed over to the limo to take our bags. I’d been in The Winston a few times, but never stayed there. We walked into the lobby and I marveled at the Art Deco perfection of the Winston. Dark marble, elegant gold touches, and beautiful murals. The hotel was an absolute treasure.

In the elevator, Dylan pulled me close and kissed the top of my head. When his hand slid down to cup my bottom, my gaze shot up to him in surprise, but he wasn’t looking at me. He watched Max carefully, as if trying to gauge his reaction.