Done Waiting: The Girl Next Door Walks Away

I'd been in love with the boy next door for eight years.

On the night of my twenty-first birthday, he kissed me at his frat party. Then he took my hand and led me upstairs.

I thought those eight years had finally gotten their answer.

Sometime after midnight, I went downstairs to find him. When I got to the door of the game room in the back, I heard someone laughing inside.

"Damn, Gray. You really slept with Wren over a bet?"

My hand stopped in midair, inches from the door.

Grayson was leaning against the pool table, a can of beer in his hand. He sounded lazy. Bored.

"A bet's a bet."

"Besides, she's been chasing me for years. It wasn't exactly hard."

He tipped his head back, took a swig, and laughed.

"Honestly? Easiest five hundred bucks I've ever made."

The whole room exploded with whistles and hollering. Someone yelled, "Don't forget to Venmo him!"

I didn't push the door open.

I turned around and walked out of that house. Standing in the cold January wind, I opened my email and found the transfer acceptance that had been sitting there for three months.

For three months, I'd stared at that "Accept Offer" button and never pressed it.

This time, I did.

Then I sent Professor Reyes an email:

"Professor, I've decided to go to New York."

Less than five minutes after I sent the email, Professor Reyes called.

"Wren, I just saw your email." She couldn't hide how excited she was. "Honestly, I was about to give up on talking you into it."

"I know."

"Are you sure? Last time I asked, you said you needed more time to think. Same thing the time before that."

She'd been pushing me to transfer since last fall. She wrote my recommendation letter. She helped me edit my application. The day the acceptance came in, she was even happier than I was.

I was the one who kept stalling.

Because of Grayson.

Now I knew. Every kiss, every "you're all I need"—they'd all been chips in a bet.

And I was what he'd put on the table.

The laughter from the game room was still ringing in my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"I'm sure."

She let out a breath. "Good. Spring semester starts next Monday. Housing might take a while, but you can head out early and get settled in. I'll send over your transcripts and my letter on my end."

"Thank you, Professor. Really."

The second I hung up, Grayson's name popped up on my screen.

"Where are you?" It was loud on his end, and he sounded a little impatient. "Everyone's downstairs waiting for you to cut the cake."

"I'm not feeling great. I went home."

He paused, and his voice softened. "You okay? Want me to come home now?"

"No. I'm already in bed."

I tried my best to sound normal.

After we hung up, I showered and got into bed. Scrolling through my phone, I came across an Instagram story his buddy Jake had just posted.

In the corner of the frame, Grayson had his arm around a girl. He was laughing, completely at ease.

I knew her. Sloane Whitmore.

She'd just come back from LA a week ago. Grayson's college girlfriend—and the one he'd never gotten over.

Back then, she'd been captain of the dance team. Gorgeous, rich, the center of attention everywhere she went. The two of them had been the golden couple on campus.

Then, the year they graduated, Sloane moved to LA without a word and blocked him everywhere.

I was seventeen that year, still in high school. All summer, I was the one who drove to bar after bar, again and again, to bring him home when he was blackout drunk.

Three months later, he finally pulled himself together.

I thought they'd never cross paths again.

But a week ago, Sloane came back.

By then, Grayson had already started taking me out. I'd asked him, "Do you still think about her?"

He smiled and said, "You're all I need."

Looking back now, it was a joke.

I thought it was love. Turned out I was just a funny story someone told over drinks.

Eight years of dreaming. Time to wake up.

When I woke up the next morning, Grayson hadn't come home all night.

I had a couple bites of cereal and drove to campus.

At lunch, Maya and I had just sat down in the dining hall when the table next to us started talking.

"Did you guys see? Grayson Hale and Sloane Whitmore are back together."

"Yes! Did you see what she posted last night? Iconic. I knew they'd find their way back to each other."

Maya glanced at me, her eyes full of sympathy.

"I told you not to get your hopes up about him."

"You got into Kingsley in New York, and you stayed here for him at this crappy state school. And what about him? He knows you like him, and he just keeps stringing you along."

She was right.

I was thirteen when I started liking Grayson, the boy who lived next door. Our families had been close friends for decades. Weekend barbecues, Christmas dinners—we always spent them together.

When I was sixteen, my parents were killed in a car accident. Both of them.

I didn't have any other family. Mr. and Mrs. Hale became my legal guardians and took me into their home.

Grayson was away at college back then. Every time he came home on break, he brought me a gift. He went with me to the cemetery. When I woke up from nightmares in the middle of the night, he'd sit with me on the stairs and talk.

And just like that, I fell for him. Hard.

To stay close to him, I gave up my dream school and stayed here.

Over the years, people teased us about it all the time. He never once denied it.

So I always thought we'd end up together sooner or later.

I sniffled and forced a smile.

"It's fine. I don't care anymore. I accepted the transfer. I'm leaving for New York next week."

Maya froze for a second, then grabbed my hand. "For real? Oh my God, you finally came to your senses!"

Just then, my phone buzzed.

Grayson: Sloane's welcome back party tonight. Don't be late.