The sand numbs my legs, but I don’t move. I can’t.
Maybe he laughed when he read it. Maybe he crumpled it up. Maybe he never thought of me that way.
The thought makes my throat burn.
Two hours.
My cheeks are wet before I realize I’m crying. I press my face into my knees, trying to muffle the sounds. The night is too quiet, the waves too steady.
He’s not coming.
The truth crashes over me with the tide, brutal and cold. Nate Russo never wanted me. Not like that.
By the time I stumble up from the sand, my dress is wrinkled, hair tangled, mascara streaked. Humiliation and embarrassment wash over me. The dunes rise behind me, houses glowing faintly. I can’t go back tonight, not like this.
So I head the other way.
Cassie’s house is only a few streets over. By the time I reach her door, my legs are shaking and my breath comes in jagged gasps. I pound on the wood until she opens, bleary and confused in her pajamas.
“Eden?” She blinks, taking in my wrecked state. “What happened? What time is it?”
One look at my face and understanding dawns. Her expression softens immediately. “Oh, honey. Come here.”
She pulls me inside, wrapping her arms around me as the first real sob breaks free. It’s ugly and raw, the disappointment crushing my chest.
“Please, just let me stay,” I choke out between gasps. “I can’t go to the house.”
“Of course.” Her voice is fierce with teenage loyalty. “Stay as long as you need.” Cassie squeezes my hand. “Want me to call your mom?”
“She’s already asleep. I’ll call Janice.” My voice is sandpaper. I pull my phone out and dial. “Hi…it’s Eden. Can I stay at Cassie’s tonight?”
“Sure thing, sweetheart. I’ll let your mom know first thing in the morning. We’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, soft and sure.
The knot in my chest loosens. At least I don’t have to face him tonight.
Cassie doesn’t ask what happened. Doesn’t push. She steers me to her room, finds a T-shirt, helps me out of the ruined dress. When she sees the mascara tracks, she vanishes and returns with makeup wipes and a glass of water.
“Drink,” she orders softly, settling beside me on her bed.
I try, but my hands are shaking too hard to hold the glass steady. She takes it from me, sets it aside, and pulls me against her shoulder.
“He didn’t come,” I whisper, the words scraping my throat raw. “I waited for two hours, Cass. Two hours. And he never showed.”
“Oh, Eden.” She rocks me slightly, her hand stroking my hair. “I’m so sorry.”
“I left him a note. I told him to meet me. I thought—” My voice cracks. “I thought he felt something too. The way he looked at me sometimes, like maybe...”
“Maybe he didn’t see the note?”
I shake my head against her shoulder. “He saw it. I know he did. He just didn’t care enough to come.”
The words taste bitter but saying them out loud makes them real. Final.
Cassie holds me tighter. “Then he’s an idiot.”
“No.” I pull back, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “I’m the idiot. For thinking someone like Nate Russo could want a girl like me.”
“Don’t say that.”
