Chapter One
“Congratulations, Oakwood High seniors!” the principal’s voice boomed from the crackling speaker atop the worn turf of the school football field.
The crowd erupted in cheers and excited exclamations as the other graduating students leaped to their feet, their polyester caps and gowns gleaming in the harsh sunlight. I slowly stood up, too, my pulse quickening amongst the noise. I dug my fingernails into my soft palms, feeling the chipped black nail polish flake against my skin.
Purple gown. Green grass. White shoes, I said to myself between breaths, focusing only on these few items in my peripheral to keep from drowning in the depths of the past or slipping into the threatening disquiet of the future. My pulse started to stabilize, and I loosened the tension from my fists. Purple gown. Green grass. White shoes. Stephanie is next to me. The sun is out. And I am safe.
“We did it!” Stephanie shouted. The gold tassel from her cap brushed against my face as she came in for a quick, tight hug. She continued chattering, but it was hard to hear over the exuberant buzz that was engulfing us. I looked toward the bleachers and scanned the rows of seats until I settled on familiar faces. My mom and dad were waving eagerly, trying to catch my attention, and right next to them was Carter, who flashed a thumbs-up and that signature half-smile that still made me flutter even after a year of dating. My mom pointed toward the parking lot, signaling me to meet them there. I nodded and turned back to Stephanie.
“Andrea, hello? Did you hear me?” she asked.
“Yes, sorry. I know, I can’t believe it, either. High school is … over.”
“Well, yeah, but that’s not what I was saying. I swear, sometimes you’re in a different world.” Stephanie turned around to see what I had been looking at. “Ohhhhh, never mind, how could I possibly compete with the Carter Wells?” She rolled her bright green eyes and tilted her head.
“Shut up,” I said playfully. “I’m sorry. I’m listening now.”
“I was just saying that I can’t believe you’re leaving me! We better make this the best summer ever!” she yelled over the noisy crowd.
“I’m not leaving you, Steph. I’m going to college! And so are you!”
“Yeah, but my school’s barely twenty minutes away. You’re going to Chicago!” She turned down her glossy pink lips into an exaggerated pout.
“Yes, and you can visit me in the big fancy city whenever you want,” I said, flipping my hair and turning up my nose in an inflated fashion that made us both laugh.
“Yeah, right, Andie.” She let out a subdued giggle. “As if there’ll be room for me in you and Carter’s love nest.”
“Oh, come on, Steph,” I said tensely, feeling the annoyance start to bubble up as I tried to quickly prepare the defense I’d practiced. But before I could retort, I felt a long, lanky arm flop onto my shoulder.
“Ladies, it’s official. We are done with high school,” Ethan exclaimed, pulling me in for a familiar side hug.
Ethan Marks and Stephanie Lang were my closest friends, though they couldn’t have been more different. Ethan was humorously tall with a mess of curly blond hair and whimsical sky-blue eyes that were usually full of mischief and laughter. We met in band class during junior high, which was fitting since Ethan was obsessed with all things music. Every spare moment he had was devoted to practicing the worn-out drum set in his garage. School was usually his last priority, so it wasn’t surprising to see him so relieved that it was ending. Stephanie, on the other hand, was my childhood best friend who had never stepped foot in our school’s band room. She was in choir and theater and focused sharply on her studies. She excelled in French and literature, which she planned to continue at the local community college this fall. She was petite and energetic, with long, thick auburn hair that was usually straightened from its natural wavy state, and she had light freckles sprinkled across her heart-shaped face. Her carefree boho style was typically complemented with flowing skirts and trendy scarves, and she was quick with advice, jokes, and unapologetic honesty. For years I was the only thing that Stephanie and Ethan had in common, but they had recently grown on each other, which I felt proudly responsible for.
“Good riddance, Oakwood,” I replied.
“Andie, we’ll talk more later,” Stephanie said. “I need to see a few other people before they leave. See you at Jeff’s party tonight, right? And you, too, Ethan?”
“You know it!” Ethan exclaimed, giving Stephanie a high five, which she had to get on her tiptoes to reciprocate. I nodded and smiled, even though I hadn’t decided if I was going yet. I didn’t know if I was ready.
“You heading out?” Ethan asked, his arm still slung around my shoulders.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I replied. We started walking toward the parking lot, the surrounding noise getting fainter with every step.
“Hey,” I started. “Do you think … I mean, I know today is Oakwood’s graduation, but do you think … does, like, every school graduate today?”
Ethan sighed. “River Academy graduated last weekend if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’s not why I asked,” I lied through shaky breaths as the dread hit my stomach and started creeping up my body. Purple gown. Green grass. White shoes.
“It’s okay, Andie,” Ethan said softly. “He’s not back in town yet. He’s not even in the country. Josh’s parents took him on some European vacation for his graduation present, so there’s no chance he’ll be at Jeff’s tonight.”
“I… I don’t care,” I said, trying to sound firm but feeling weaker by the second. I hated hearing Josh’s name spoken out loud, as if it somehow solidified his permission to exist in the same air I was breathing.
“Okay,” Ethan said lightly, pretending to believe me. We walked in awkward silence for a few more seconds until I saw Carter and my parents at the edge of the parking lot.
“Carter!” I yelled, the life flooding back into my body when he looked at me. I ran toward him, letting Ethan’s arm quickly fall off my shoulder.
“Congratulations, Ms. Cavanuagh, high school graduate!” Carter boasted as he embraced me. He tightened his hold and spun me around a couple times before safely setting me down. “And you, too, man.” He motioned toward Ethan, who had caught up to us by then.
“Yep. I’ll see you guys tonight. I’m gonna go find my mom,” Ethan said with a forced smile that I didn’t have the energy to analyze.
“My baby girl is all grown up!” my mom squealed as she came in for a bear hug.
“Mom!” I said as my face flushed.
“Oh, your boyfriend doesn’t care, honey,” my dad said with a laugh. “He’s put up with us for this long.”
“I think it’s sweet,” Carter replied. “You’re lucky you got stuck with these two.” He gestured to my parents, who were beaming.
“Boyfriend” was a term I still wasn’t used to when referring to Carter Wells. He could have had anyone he wanted, so every day with him felt like this thrilling borrowed time I didn’t quite deserve.
We made our relationship official late last summer after the dust settled from his breakup with Sloane Davison. She was blindsided by the news, as was everyone in our small town who had looked to Carter and Sloane as the royal couple of suburban Michigan. Nobody seemed to sympathize much with her, though. Apparently, her callous personality had rubbed too many people the wrong way over the years and, without Carter on her arm, most people lost their tolerance for all things Sloane. She quickly ran out of invitations and empathy. When I heard she was transferring to a four-year college upstate, I wasn’t surprised. I figured her only option was to start over with a new group of unsuspecting coeds who hadn’t yet been burned by her relentless gossip and impatient eye rolls. Perhaps they’d be fooled by her perfectly manicured appearance as we had all once been, and she could rest on that for a few more years. But I was glad to have her gone, nonetheless. In the weeks following their breakup, Sloane had been a consistent drama source in Carter’s life. There were drunken voicemails and unannounced visits. I was on constant edge that any one of her desperate attempts might just work, but to my relief and surprise, Carter was unwavering.
On sacred summer nights before the world knew about us, I’d crawl through his bedroom window, the nearby branches poking as he’d pull me to safety, laughing as I’d tumble inside, keeping our delicious secret safe for another night. And there was the moment he whispered that he loved me as we lay atop the grassy yard of a dimly lit local park, our bodies tangled over and under. The summer ended, but we swore we’d never forget.
After Sloane left, Carter and I started telling our friends that we were together. I wasn’t used to it then, and a year later, it still didn’t sound right. Carter Wells is my boyfriend. I couldn’t say it enough.
The news spread quickly once our friends found out. “Who’s the new girl with Carter?” people would whisper. I wanted to tell them that I wasn’t new—I’d lived here all my life—but it was clear what they meant. I had been nobody for so long, I didn’t blame them for being confused. The attention was daunting, but there was power in being loved by Carter Wells, and I got high off the validation. He was kind and generous and made me laugh harder than I knew was possible. He could wear anything and make it look instantly trendy; the way fabric hung from his body was an art form. His thick, wavy, shoulder-length chestnut hair always smelled fresh, and his sharp jawline was intoxicating. His slender fingers felt like electricity against my skin and breathing in his sandalwood-scented aroma was like pulsing oxygen straight into my veins. When he wasn’t with me, I was lost in thought about his body, his face, his words, his allure. I was insatiably consumed by Carter, and the fact that he chose me was so overwhelming that I expected the emotional weight of that sentiment to crush me at any moment. I was buried under the inebriating anticipation and euphoria of being Carter’s girlfriend. And I never wanted it to stop.
“We’ll see you guys at home!” my mom yelled from her car down the row. They had driven to graduation separately from Carter.
As we settled into his old black sedan, he leaned over to kiss me after shutting the driver’s side door. His lips felt soft but purposeful. I closed my eyes and felt the Earth spin beneath our feet as the clock ticked in steady, deliberate beats. Pulling back a couple inches, he kept his face close to mine for a moment as if he were studying my features.
“I’m proud of you, beautiful,” he whispered. My skin tingled with the last word.
“Thanks, babe,” I said sheepishly. I bit my lip to keep from throwing myself at him.
His deep mahogany eyes sparkled as he readjusted back to his seat. An exhilarating tension lingered between us as he started the car. I wondered if he felt it, too.
