A/N: Significant revision in January 2012. If you've read this before, you'll see a new explanation for St. Clair's behavior toward Ellie in this scene and an expanded ending.
The acceptance letters have started to arrive. Everyone's getting into the universities they want, which – of course they are. Most everyone here is smart and ambitious and comes from loads of money.
But somehow that formula's not working for me. Because my father has confirmed that he wants me in Paris for university.
"You need to be speaking French more," he says by phone (in French, of course) from San Francisco. "Otherwise, you'll fall behind and get kicked out of university. I don't need you to be wasting your time on nonsense."
"Oui."
"And if you don't, you'll go to London and stay with your grandparents," he says. "You did send out those applications to the universities on that list I sent you, right? I told you to get on that months ago."
"Oui, elles sont toutes faites."
It's a partial truth. I've applied to the universities on my father's list and Stanford and Berkeley, both of which are close to mum in San Francisco. I've already been accepted at Berkeley, but I haven't told anyone yet.
And I'm certainly not going to tell him now.
"Ça va, Ellie?" he asks, changing the subject.
"Bien," I lie. "Elle est très occupée."
The truth is, since Thanksgiving, everything's been terrible with Ellie. We don't go out as much as we used to, and when we do, we usually start arguing about some nonsense. She's starting to get suspicious about the time I spend with Anna, which is ridiculous considering how little Anna and I are speaking to each other these days.
Our Thanksgiving holiday, apparently, was just that – not our reality.
"Please thank Ellen again for her family's contacts," my father says. "They have been wonderful buyers for us."
"Parfait," I say, glancing at my watch. Fuck. I was supposed to be at Ellie's two hours ago.
"Bon, faut que je vous laisse, père," I say, telling him Ellie's waiting for me. "Au revoir."
"Bonne soirée," he says, as if he actually means it.
I click off my mobile and race toward the metro. I practically jump up the stairs at metro Dupleix as I make my way to Ellie's apartment.
The door is unlocked when I arrive.
"Hey, what took you so long?" she purrs.
She's on the sofa, wearing the black and ivory lingerie set I bought her for our six-month anniversary. She's as beautiful as ever, but something feels…different.
"Sorry," I say. "Work at school."
She doesn't respond. She just motions for me to come to her.
"It's been so long," she says as I follow her hand.
We start to kiss. My body knows what to do. My mind, though, does not. Ellie starts to disrobe and all I can think about is…Anna? Christ, not now.
I start to panic.
"Put your clothes back on," I blurt.
I immediately want to take it back. But I can't.
"Fuck you!" she says, stunned. "I'm serious! Go fuck yourself."
She's screaming now, her eyes filled with tears. I just want to crawl under the sofa.
"Oh, that's right," she says. "That's all you're going to get anyway since you don't ever want to fuck me anymore."
The way she says fuck cuts right through me. It sounds so hateful, bitter. I might be a terrible boyfriend, but I've never acted that way toward her. Ever.
"Please, Ellie," I say. "I didn't mean it that way. I just can't – I'm dealing with a lot right now, all right? I mean, my dad…"
"Boo-fucking-hoo," she interrupts. "This has nothing to do with your father or even your mother. It has to do with…Anna."
"I told you, " I say calmly. "Anna and I just friends."
"Friends, of course," she says. "Tell me, have you kissed her, held her hand? I bet she'd really like that."
"She's been a good friend," I say, more deliberate this time. "So have Mer and Rash and Josh, for that matter. They're trying to help me through all these…difficulties."
She storms off the couch toward her bedroom. I follow behind. She yanks a robe from her door.
"Why is this always about you?" she asks, tying the robe tightly around her. "I have my own problems. I'm struggling just to get by here. Turns out university is ten times harder than high school. But I don't let any of that get in the way of seeing my own boyfriend."
Neither of us can support what the other wants, yet we've been together long enough that we don't know how to break away – even in our own wretched states.
"Maybe I should go," I finally say. "I'm really sorry, Ellie."
She pauses, her eyes burning in anger. "That's not enough anymore, don't you understand? Just get….just get…out of…here."
"I mean it, Ellie," I say. "You know this isn't me."
"You're right," she says. "I don't know who you are anymore."