The Secret Recipe for Moving On Karen Bischer (read my book .txt) 📖

two blocks from my house,” I tell him, taking a long sip of my drink, even though it’s barely warm, to keep this conversation from going further.

“I know. I was coming to see you,” Hunter says and his smile disappears. “I could really use your advice right now about something.”

“I don’t know. I really need to get a jump on my homework.” Total lie, but I mean, come on.

“Please, El,” Hunter says. “I need to talk to someone, and you’re the only one who will get it.”

“Fine.” I try to keep from rolling my eyes. He pulls over to the side of the street so I can get in, and then starts fiddling with the radio.

“Um, I don’t have all day,” I say.

“I know, I know. It’s just … I’m thinking I don’t want to go to Princeton anymore,” he says.

“Whoa,” I say slowly. Seriously, now, I get why he needed to talk.

“In fact, I know I don’t want to go there. I applied to Tufts, and if I get in, that’s where I’m going.”

“Damn, your family is going to flip.”

“And I think Brynn might, too. She applied early decision to Princeton and I have, like, no doubt she’ll get in.”

I have to clench my jaw to keep it from falling into my lap. Brynn—studious, driven-to-the-point-of-snobbery Brynn, who could probably get into most Ivy League schools—based her college decision on where Hunter was going? Yikes.

“She’s a big girl” is what I actually say. “And if she loves you, she’ll get over it.”

“I tried hinting to her the other night why Tufts would be a better school for me, since it has a good music program and their a cappella groups are so well regarded and stuff, but she kind of just laughed me off.”

Is it weird that I know exactly why Brynn laughed him off? Because she must now realize how winning the talent show last year has gone to Hunter’s head if he thinks he’s ready for an award-winning collegiate-level group.

“My family is never going to understand this,” he says, shaking his head.

“Well, you’re just going to have to tell them and let the chips fall where they may. It is your choice, after all.”

Hunter’s silent for a minute. “That’s it? That’s all you can tell me?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What do you want me to say? It’ll be okay? I don’t know that. I’m not psychic, you know.”

“I thought you’d tell me how I should follow my dreams and that everyone else needs to get off my ass.”

“No,” I say, losing my patience. “You wanted me to tell you what you wanted to hear.”

“Jesus, Ellie. You used to have all the answers.”

“That’s the thing,” I say, and for some reason tears start burning in my eyes. “I don’t have a vested interest in your life anymore. I mean, I’m sorry you’re in such a tight spot right now. But you just expect me to be here for you and have all the answers because I did in the past?”

He doesn’t have a reply for this, and the fact that he’s that oblivious makes me even more annoyed. Then he’s all, “You’ve changed.”

That’s. It. “Hunter, you dumped me for another girl you apparently had feelings for long before we met, hooked up with her before you broke up with me, treated me like that was somehow my fault, and now I’m supposed to be the same old Ellie? Do you know how much you hurt me?”

“You’re just being a hypocrite,” he snaps.

“Excuse me?” How is he possibly turning this on me?

“I heard how you and Luke were all over each other at Alisha’s. And didn’t he have a girlfriend then? You’re not any better than me.”

I feel my throat constricting. I want so badly to scream and I start shaking. “And who told you that?”

“Steve saw you guys. Which means the whole class probably saw you, so don’t deny it.”

“We were not all over each other,” I say, my face going all hot. I don’t want to lie, but I don’t want to give him any satisfaction right now. “We played beer pong together and that’s it.”

“See, you’re even drinking now because of him,” he says, shaking his head.

I’m fairly sure I’ve never been part of a more ridiculous conversation, but I can’t seem to extricate myself from it. “I was playing with soda. But even if I was drinking, what’s the big deal? Everyone else drinks. Jesus Christ, you drink. And your girlfriend puked all over you from drinking too much. When the hell did you start”—I struggle for the word—“idealizing me so much?”

“I just think you’ve changed a lot and it bothers me. And I think it’s Luke’s influence.”

I actually burst out laughing. Like, I don’t know what else to do right now. “Hunter, you really have lost the right to judge how I have or haven’t changed. Honestly, if I have changed, it’s a result of how you treated me and that’s that.”

His face goes bright red. “I just don’t appreciate you going off on my sense of morals when you’re not doing too well with them yourself.”

I’m so done. I feel my blood pulsating in my temples and I clutch my Starbucks cup so hard I almost crush it.

“Whatever you think is going on between Luke and me is none of your damn business,” I growl. “Now stop projecting all your defensive shit on me.”

He shakes his head and a forced laugh comes out, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. “You know what, Ellie? Good for you for moving on. Because I guess if Luke’s so damn great he’ll finally be the one to get you to chill out and devirginize you!”

Without even thinking, I rip the lid off my drink and launch its contents into Hunter’s face. Well, not quite, because he moves his face when he sees the cup coming and the now-cold hot chocolate mostly lands on his shoulder. But still.

Before he can react, I yank the car door open