"I will be." She leaned against the locker next to mine. "That was... intense."
"Yeah."
"I meant what I said. It's over with Jake." She looked at me, her gaze searching. "So... what happens now? With us?"
This was the moment I had fantasized about for years. Chloe Evans, single, looking at me with hope in her eyes. But the fantasy was a lie. It was built on secret conversations and stolen moments, not on the wreckage of a public breakup and a shattered friendship.
"I don't know, Chloe," I said honestly, the exhaustion seeping into my bones. "Everything is... a mess."
Her face fell, just a little. "Because of Maya?"
I didn't answer. I didn't have to.
She nodded, understanding dawning in her eyes. "You love her."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact, and it hit me with the force of a physical blow. I had been so busy climbing toward the sun, I never looked down to see the foundation I was standing on. The foundation that was Maya.
"I think I always have," I whispered, the truth finally breaking free.
Chloe gave me a sad, gentle smile. It was the most real smile she'd ever given me. "You should probably go tell her that."
She turned and walked away, not as a prize I had won, but as a person finally released from a role she never wanted to play. We had used each other as escapes, but the vacation was over. It was time to go home.
I drove straight to Maya's house, my heart pounding a frantic, hopeful, terrified rhythm. The garage door was closed. I knocked, softly at first, then harder.
Her dad answered the side door. "Leo. Haven't seen you around."
"Is Maya here?"
He shook his head, his expression unreadable. "She's gone. Left for the weekend. A pre-college art retreat at the state park."
My heart plummeted. "Did she... did she say when she'd be back?"
"Sunday night." He started to close the door. "Maybe give her some space, kid."
I stood on her porch, the hope draining out of me. Space. It was what I had given her for weeks, and it had created a chasm I didn't know how to cross.
I got back in my car, but I didn't drive home. I drove to the one place I always went when I needed to think. The old railroad bridge on the edge of town, where Maya and I had spent countless afternoons skipping stones and talking about everything and nothing.
I sat on the warm concrete, my legs dangling over the creek below, and I let the full weight of my stupidity crush me. I had been so blind. Maya wasn't just my best friend. She was the one who remembered my coffee order without asking. The one who defended me in fourth grade when Tommy Higgins said I read too much. The one whose art showed me how she saw the world—a world that was messy and painful and beautiful, a world I only understood because I saw it through her eyes.
I had been in love with her for years. I had just been too much of a coward to call it by its name, too distracted by the shiny, easy validation of a popular girl's attention.
The sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. It was a Maya sky. I pulled out my phone and opened our text thread. The last message was my plea from her driveway, unanswered.
I started to type. Not an apology this time. A truth.
Leo: I'm at the bridge. I figured it out. I'm in love with you. I think I have been since we declared war on your brother with couch cushions. I'm so sorry it took me losing you to see it. I don't expect you to text back. I just needed you to know.
I hit send. The message was marked delivered. I held my breath, staring at the screen until it went dark.
There was no response.
The sun dipped below the horizon, and the world was swallowed by the cool, quiet dark. I had thrown my truth out into the universe, a message in a bottle sent to a retreating shore. I had no idea if it would ever be found, or if it would be read, or if it was already too late.
Chapter 8:
The Bridge
