“Romance books are fiction,” Celeste replies with a shrug. “They’re products of an author’s brain and have no basis in real life. They’re predictable, and there’s always a happy ending. Real relationships, though? Not as nice and a lot messier.”

She shudders, like there’s a sudden chill.

“And why do you believe that?” I ask, realizing I never directly asked her this question. Without meaning to, I’ve put my advice columnist hat on, fascinated to finally get a peek inside Celeste’s head.

She stares at me for a long moment, as if she’s trying to decide what to say. Finally, she looks down at the books in her hands. “Come on, Gem. Would you still believe in romance if you were me? After the shit show that’s my parents’ relationship? And after what happened to us?”

I squeeze my books to my chest. “Us?”

She glances around, as if checking to see if the coast is clear. I do the same. We have pretty much the entire section to ourselves.

Quietly, Celeste continues, “You were my last girlfriend. My last real relationship. I never got over what happened with us. And how fast you moved on.”

The entire way back to Celeste’s apartment, I stay silent. I can’t even look at her face. My heart’s hurting too much.

I think back to how I was eight years ago, when Celeste’s and my breakup was still fresh. Since I had no idea what had happened to Celeste or why she’d left, I didn’t know how to cope. I took her disappearance so personally, especially since she didn’t reply to any of my messages. I really thought she just didn’t want to be around me anymore, so I was desperate to find someone who did, going to parties every weekend and hooking up with anyone who gave me the time of day. Like Celeste, I didn’t even want to seriously date again. Until I met James at one of the last parties I went to in college.

Despite the laughably tragic end of our relationship, when we met, James helped me believe in love again, making me laugh when I thought I couldn’t and holding me tight whenever I cried. He made me feel so safe and wanted that I didn’t even hesitate when he asked me to be his girlfriend. And when we moved seven hours up north from LA to SF, he made the transition from college to the real world so fun and easy.

James may be an asshole, but he’s an asshole I’ll always owe a lot to. I try to imagine a world where I hadn’t met him. Would I have completely given up on relationships, too?