“You know,” Cali says, “a lot of the people I met here, I don’t know if I’d have been friends with them in real life. But you I would have.”

I reach over to take her arm.

“Ditto. I hope your moving to Paris doesn’t mean we’re not friends anymore.”

“Of course not!” she says, swatting me with her free hand. “I mean, shit, you can come with me if you want. Not that that’s necessarily what I think you should do. Even though it would be a lot of fun.”

“Oh,” I say, smiling, my mind rushing forward. Did I want to go with Cali? Continue on with the adventure, without my little passenger? Though Cali wasn’t going to be a bartender in Paris, she was going back to the thing she loved. “And what do you think I should do?”

“You really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

“I think you should go back home, maybe do that ski school thing. I didn’t tell you this, but once you told me your real name, I went and Googled the shit out of you. I watched a bunch of videos of your races. Girl, you’re incredible, and I think you love it. And, since I’m telling you what to do with your life, I think you should see where things go with Blair. Because I think you love him, and I know he loves you. So there. You asked.”

I’m quiet for a long moment.

“It’s not that I don’t want any of those things, it’s just that when I came here, it seemed like the only way out was to get as far away as possible. But now, I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing here. But going back is complicated.”

“Maybe,” Cali says, squeezing my arm a bit more tightly in hers, “the only way out is back the way you came.”

“And what about . . .”

“That I cannot help you with,” Cali says. “I’m not sure if I ever want them, so I’m the wrong person to ask. You really do need to talk to Gianluca though, I think. For better or worse.”

Katie Cleary Is Out of Here