Yes, You Two Are Perfect Together

On the day of our senior yearbook photos, the photographer told the couples in our class to stand closer together.

But Gemma pressed her hand against my shoulder, pushing me toward the very edge of the lineup so that Asher could take my place next to her.

Asher and I are the top graduates in science and humanities, she said, her voice smooth and practical. "It looks better for the school if we stand together."

It was far from the first time she had pushed me aside.

Whenever I brought my AP Calculus practice sheets to her, she would glance at my mistakes and sigh, telling me my foundation was too weak and that I was wasting her time. Yet, when Asher struggled with his math assignments, she would stay up until two in the morning, meticulously breaking down every single formula into its simplest steps for him.

I once asked her to study with me at the library, but she frowned, claiming my presence was too distracting. Yet, when Ashers class rank slipped by a single spot, she skipped an entire afternoon of classes just to walk along the harbor with him to ease his mind.

The photographer smiled, teasing them from behind the lens. "Are you two a couple? You look perfect together, and your grades certainly match."

Gemma looked at Asher, her smile warm and filled with a quiet pride. "We have always been the perfect team."

Asher lowered his head, his cheeks flushing pink as the rest of our classmates began to cheer and hoot.

I stood at the absolute edge of the crowd, my fingers tightening around the glossy photo reservation ticket I had kept in my pocket. I had spent the previous evening picking out my outfit and styling my hair, foolishly hoping to get a picture of just the two of us.

The space next to her had never actually belonged to me.

And now, I didn't want it anymore.

I stared down at the crumpled ticket in my palm, suddenly finding the whole situation ridiculous. I walked over to the nearest trash can and tossed it inside.

A few minutes later, I walked into the guidance counselor's office. The counselor handed me my final transcript, offering a supportive pat on the back.

"You did well, Amber. Go home and start finalizing your college applications." He paused, looking at me thoughtfully. "I heard you plan on following Gemma to Boston? Boston's cutoffs are incredibly high, and honestly, your scores won't get you into a top-tier program there. As your counselor, I advise you to prioritize your own future."

I thanked him, clutching the transcript tightly.

As I stepped out of the office, I ran right into Gemma and Asher. They both froze when they saw me, but Asher quickly recovered, jogging up to me with a bright, friendly smile.

"There you are, Amber!" He held out a cup. "We went to get some drinks, and Gemma made sure we got one for you too."

I looked down at the cups.

They were holding matching iced matcha lattes with "couples combo" stickers plastered on the sides. The drink he was handing me was a bright yellow mango smoothie.

I have a severe mango allergy, and Gemma knew that.

I forced a faint smile, took the smoothie from his hand, and walked over to drop it into the recycling bin next to the lockers.

Ashers smile faltered, his eyes welling with tears as he looked helplessly at Gemma.

Gemmas brow furrowed instantly, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Amber, what is your problem now?"

She sounded exhausted, her patience entirely spent.

"Just because I asked you to step aside for Asher earlier? That was my decision, so why are you taking your anger out on him?"

"I already explained it to you! We are the top students in our respective tracks, and standing together is good publicity for the school. Besides, didn't I promise I would take a private photo with you afterward?"

I stared at her, suddenly lacking the energy to argue.

She had promised. But after the group photo ended, she never looked for me.

On our classmates' social media feeds, she had already posted a dozen private photos with Asher. She had spent the last hour laughing with him, holding him close, and buying drinks, entirely forgetting my existence.

Everything had shifted the moment Asher transferred to our school. As the top humanities student, his name was constantly paired with hers, the top science student. I had strained myself to the limit just to keep up with them, often struggling to understand the academic jokes they tossed back and forth.

Gemma used to be patient with my academic struggles. But as she spent more time with Asher, her attitude toward me turned into nothing but irritation.

Seeing my silence, Gemma let out a sharp sigh, her patience gone. "Fine, we will take the photo now. Are you happy?"

Without waiting for my reply, she snatched my phone from my hand and tossed it to Asher. Asher caught it, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Gemma stood beside me, but she kept a distinct distance between our shoulders. Before I could even adjust my posture, she grabbed the phone back from Asher and shoved it into my palm.

"There, no more tantrums."

"Now wait here while I help Asher gather his final transcripts. We will go home together after."

She turned, grabbing Ashers sleeve as they walked into the office.

I stood in the empty hallway, unlocking my screen to look at the photo. The camera had shaken, capturing only a blurry shot of the gray linoleum floor and the hem of her jacket as she walked away from me.

I stared at it for a long time, then let out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh.

I deleted the photo, blocked Gemmas number, and walked out of the school gates.

I was done waiting for her.

That evening, a few close friends dragged me out to a local diner for a farewell dinner. Halfway through our meal, the guy sitting next to me nearly choked on his soda.

"No way, did Asher just make it official?"

He flipped his phone onto the table. It was a social media post from Asher showing two movie tickets with a simple caption: Official.

In the corner of the photo, a girl's wrist was visible, wearing a braided red thread bracelet.

My chest tightened, a dull ache spreading through my throat.

I had begged Gemma to wear a matching couples bracelet months ago, but she had dismissed the idea, calling it childish. Yet, she had started wearing it recently. I had secretly allowed myself to feel happy, thinking she had simply changed her mind for me.

How pathetic.

My friends began to gossip, trying to identify the girl.

"Who is she? Is she from our school?"

"Hes always with Gemma. I thought those two were already dating."

I kept my voice flat. "It is Gemma."

They looked up, startled by my tone, and the table went quiet.

"Amber, your eyes are incredibly red. Are you okay?"

I lowered my head, picking at the fries on my plate. "The hot sauce is just really spicy."

Before anyone could reply, the diner door swung open. Gemma and Asher walked in together. She was carrying his backpack over her shoulder, holding his jacket in her hand.

When they sat down at a nearby table, one of our classmates called out, "Gemma, we knew there was something going on between you two!"

Gemma noticed me and paused, but she quickly regained her composure, walking over to our table as if nothing was wrong.

"What a coincidence," she said smoothly. "Mind if we join?"

She was so utterly casual about it, making my silent agony feel like nothing more than a pathetic overreaction.

"Are you two actually dating?" someone asked.

Gemma glanced at Ashers post, letting out a soft laugh. "That? He was talking about the movie release being official. You guys didn't actually believe that, did you?"

Asher lowered his gaze, blushing, but offering no correction.

The table resumed its noisy chatter, but my focus was fixed on the glossy lip gloss on Gemmas lips. It was a shade she only wore when she wanted to look her best.

Gemma slid into the booth next to me, her hand reaching under the table to squeeze my fingers, just like she used to do.

I pulled my hand away.

Her hand froze in the empty space, her expression hardening. She stood up and moved to the other side of the booth, sitting right next to Asher. Their shoulders brushed, and Ashers face turned bright red.

For the rest of the night, the conversation revolved around the two of them, their future college plans, and how their children would probably inherit genius-level IQs. I sat there like an uninvited guest.

I wanted to leave, but Gemma was sitting on the outside of the booth, blocking my exit. I could only stare at my plate, my stomach twisting in pain.

When Asher reached for an ice-cold soda, Gemma quickly snatched it away. "Your stomach is sensitive, you shouldn't drink cold things."

The table erupted into more teasing.

Gemma finally looked at me, as if suddenly remembering I was there. "Your face is flushed, Amber. Was the food too spicy?"

She slid the cold soda toward me. "Here, have some."

I had struggled with chronic stomach issues since childhood, and cold drinks always triggered a painful spasm. Gemma used to protect me from them.

But she had forgotten.

I didn't reach for the can.

Gemmas forehead creased with irritation. "Amber, how long are you going to keep acting like this?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, grabbing my backpack as I slid out of the booth. "I don't feel well. I am going home."

Ashers expression turned anxious, his voice dropping to a fragile whisper. "Did I say something to upset you, Amber? I am sorry."

Gemma slammed the soda can onto the table, her voice cold. "Ignore him, Asher. He is just being dramatic over nothing."

The table went dead silent, everyone watching the three of us in awkward confusion.

I covered my eyes as tears finally spilled over my fingers. Turning my back on them, I ran out of the diner.

I cried the entire walk home, my throat raw. When I walked through the front door, my father looked up from the television.

"Did you and Gemma have another fight? She messaged me saying you blocked her."

I remained silent, my heart aching.

"She just wanted to remind me to make sure you fill out your college applications," my father continued, sighing. "She wants you to choose a school close to hers in Boston. Gemma is a good girl, Amber. It is a shame you two never worked out. You are average, and she is brilliant, so I suppose it makes sense she doesn't see you that way."

I didn't argue.

"We don't know much about these prestigious universities," he added. "You should ask Gemma for advice. I saw her helping Asher with his applications the other day, she was incredibly thorough. They spent days working on it, even staying up late together."

My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag.

"Gemma even told him she would help him get into the best program at MIT, making sure not a single test score went to waste."

I stood in the hallway, feeling a cold weight settle in my chest.

Gemma and I had promised to go to the same city. But when I had asked her to look over my choices, she had barely looked up from her phone.

"I don't know much about those middle-tier state schools, Amber. Just pick whatever is close to Boston. The major doesn't really matter for someone with your grades anyway."

I had defended her back then, telling myself that as an elite student destined for MIT, she simply didn't understand the complex admissions process for regular universities.

I couldn't deceive myself anymore.

"Your guidance counselor called me too," my father said. "He thinks Boston is too risky for you. What do you think?"

"I am not going to Boston," I said, forcing a smile. "I want to go to the university in Denver. My scores are high enough to get me into their honors program."

I walked into my room and shut the door, sinking to the floor as the tears finally came.

The distance between our hometown and Boston was substantial, but Denver was in the opposite direction. It was far enough that I would never have to chase after her shadow again.

When my acceptance letter finally arrived, my fathers hands were shaking as he held the envelope.

"Amber, you actually got into Denver."

He reached for his phone to call our relatives, but I gently pressed his hand down. "Let us wait until after I leave for campus."

I spent the rest of the summer indoors. My father knew I was hurting, but he didn't know how to comfort me, so he kept urging me to go outside and get some fresh air.

I didn't expect to run into Gemma and Asher at the airport terminal. They were dressed in matching cream-colored jackets, looking every bit like a couple.

Gemmas eyes brightened when she saw me, but her expression quickly turned frosty.

"Still throwing a tantrum? Are you still ignoring my texts?"

"Is this why you followed us here?"

I stared at her, suddenly remembering the couples vacation package she had booked before our exams. She had promised we would go together once high school was over. The departure date was today.

Asher bit his lip, taking a step back with a polite, fragile smile. "If Amber is going, I should probably stay behind."

Gemma grabbed his arm, pulling him back. "Don't be ridiculous, Asher. You spent weeks planning for this trip. You are going."

I felt a bitter laugh bubble up in my throat. She cared so much about the effort Asher had put in, completely forgetting that the entire itinerary had been researched and written by me during those sleepless post-exam nights.

"Don't worry," I said quietly. "I am not going."

Asher waited until Gemma went to print the tickets before leaning closer to me, his voice dripping with condescension.

"You should know by now, Amber, some gaps can't be bridged by hard work. Gemma needs someone who can stand beside her, not someone dragging her down. I asked her to be my girlfriend the night of graduation. Want to guess what her answer was?"

I looked at him, my heart entirely numb. "If you want her, she is yours."

Ashers smile faltered, his expression turning ugly at my indifference.

Gemma returned, handing me a single ticket. "There was only a standing ticket left for the train connection. Asher has a bad back, so you will have to stand."

She checked her watch, pulling Asher toward the security gate. "We need to go. We will meet you at the resort!"

Asher shot me a triumphant look as they walked away.

I looked down at the ticket in my hand. Gemma hadn't even noticed that the ticket she had printed was for a train departing three months from now.

I crumpled the ticket, tossed it into the trash, and boarded my flight to Denver.

A few weeks later, I returned home to gather the rest of my belongings before moving into my dorm. As I walked up to my building, Gemma blocked my path.

Her face was pale with anger as she grabbed my wrist. "Where is Asher's acceptance letter?"

I winced at her grip. "What are you talking about?"

"Stop lying, Amber!" she yelled. "His official letter from Harvard was delivered to my address by mistake, and the courier said someone from this building signed for it. You have been home all week! Who else could it be? If you are angry with me, take it out on me! Why do you have to ruin Ashers future?"

I stared at her, completely stunned.

Asher stepped out from behind her, his eyes red and tearful. "If you are upset about how close Gemma and I are, I can apologize, Amber. I promise I won't speak to her again. But please, give me my letter back. I worked so hard for that spot!"

"I didn't take your letter!" I shouted, my voice cracking. "I just got back from my trip today!"

Gemma ignored my words, her eyes falling on the thick cardboard envelope I was holding. She lunged forward, snatching it from my hands.

"Give that back, Gemma!" I cried, trying to reach for it.

She held it high above her head, looking at my desperate face with utter coldness.

"I am going to count to three."

"Give us Asher's letter, or I will rip your precious Denver letter to pieces."

"I don't have it!" I screamed, tears of frustration streaming down my face. "I just picked this up from the mailroom! You can check the cameras!"

"One."

"Gemma, please..."

"Two."

She didn't hesitate. With a sharp rip, she tore my Denver acceptance letter right down the middle, scattering the pieces at my feet.

I stared at the white fragments on the pavement, unable to make a sound.

Before Gemma could speak, her familys housekeeper came running down the driveway, holding a pristine white envelope.

"Gemma! I found the letter! It was mixed in with the old newspapers on the kitchen counter. I forgot to mention it earlier!"

Ashers fake sobbing stopped instantly.

Gemma froze, slowly turning her head to look at me, her lips trembling as she tried to find the words.

I didn't give her the chance. I knelt down, gathered the torn pieces of my letter, and walked inside, slamming the heavy front door behind me.

The next morning, I found a first-class flight ticket to Boston slid under my door, accompanied by a small note: Let's go together.

I threw both into the trash, packed my bags, and left for Denver two days early.

Two days later, Gemma and Asher knocked on my fathers door. She was holding a large suitcase, her voice carrying a rare, hopeful lightness.

"Mr. Arthur, I am here to pick up Amber so we can head to Boston together."