One look at Jasmine’s face, wide open with heartbreak, and I know exactly which version she sang.
“I didn’t sing that to you because I wanted you to forget the summer,” she says softly, confirming. “I sang it to you because I wanted you to remember how good it was. And I know it was a stupid night to do it, but it felt like my last chance before I lost you for good. When I finally got the nerve to look at you, it was clear I’d already lost you before I even got here.” Her gaze meets mine, and it looks like it takes all the effort in the world on her part. The least I can do is hold it.
“I moved in with my dad because I could not get you out of my fucking head. I thought about going back to school and pretending our summer was just a summer, and I couldn’t do it. I thought that maybe if I came here, we’d have a chance to be something real, but I didn’t know how to tell you I was coming. And before I could even see you, you had a boyfriend, and I was stuck here. Watching you live this perfect life that was already full without me. I’ve been trying to carve something out and save what’s left of my dignity and my senior year, but I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you and I just need to go crawling back to my mom. My heart can’t take you breaking it anymore.”
Her gaze drops, but she doesn’t walk away. “I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole all night. For longer than tonight, I guess. I really didn’t handle it well that coming to Stratford wasn’t what I hoped it would be.”
“Because you hoped…” God, I feel slow. And yet my pulse is racing. “Jasmine. Why didn’t you say anything? You had a billion chances!”
“Did I?” she says, and maybe I’ve been breaking her heart, but the sadness in her voice cracks mine wide open. “It feels like I never had one at all.” She turns to walk away, and I don’t know what to say, but I know I don’t want her to go.
Then she turns back.
“Look, I should tell you—I’m bi. I was questioning it for a while, but when you came along this summer I felt like I finally knew for sure. And maybe for you, it was liking the taste of my cherry ChapStick or whatever. But even though this has all hurt like hell and honestly kind of sucks, it’s good to know for sure who I am. So, thank you, I guess.”
She sounds so certain. She’sbeencertain, while I’ve been floating along, thinking we were both in the same weird and nameless territory of summer.
I don’t know what to say.
I don’t know what to think.
I don’t know what I am.
And it doesn’t matter, because she’s gone.
Chapter Twenty
I don’t go back into the dance. I can’t see Chase now, can’t prance around in a tiara, and I definitely can’t see Jasmine. Luckily, when someone does surface to find me in the hallway, it isn’t either of them—it’s Kiki.
“You know,” I say.
“I know.”
“You always did, didn’t you? How?”
Kiki taps her nose. “I have pretty excellent powers of deduction. Also, you stare at each other alotwhen you think no one’s watching. Like, a lot. And a few of the things you’ve each said about your summers line up, and that fire pit picture you texted us—Jasmine has a really similar one on Instagram. Finally, I looked up her dad. It wasn’t hard from there.”
“Kiki’s on the case.”
She smiles proudly. “Always.” Her face turns serious. “Look, I know Chase has been the dream for literallyever, but… how do you feel? Unless you don’t wanna talk about it.”
Do I wanna talk about it?
How do I feel?
THEN
Carter’s end-of-summer party is a lot like his beginning-of-summer party, which doesn’t have anyone complaining. On the beach laughing and drinking and dancing and staring into the bonfire with everyone else, I know this is going to be the summer I think about a billion years from now. I can’t believe I’m leaving tomorrow. I can’t believe I won’t be living steps away from the ocean anymore. I can’t believe I’ll never fall off Derek’s Jet Skis again or get destroyed by Keisha and Carter at spades or have spa nights complete with Brea’s sheet masks.
I can’t believe this is it for me and Jasmine.
As much as I’ll miss everyone, it’s killing me that we’re spending our last night with a billion other people. I keep trying to make eye contact with her, but every time I do, she’s swept away by someone wanting her to play flip cup, or I’m yanked into a selfie by Owen or Brea. I keep wanting to drag her close, to imprint the feeling of her skin on mine, but I don’t have any excuses. My mind can’t come up with a single justification for why I need to grab her hand right now, or how to pull her away for a walk along the water, just the two of us.
We’re all about the excuses, the setup, the ways wehappen to fall onto each other’s mouths and hands. It’s just what happens when you’re hanging out alone and watching a movie, or swimming, or lying in the hammock together, or spreading out on the grass to watch the stars, or taking pictures of sunsets, or feeling lazy in a canoe.
It’s just what happens for us over and over again and it’s so good I can’t stop thinking about it, wanting to kiss that spot on her neck, wanting to touch the incredibly soft skin on her shoulder blades, wanting to feel her hands tracing my hipbone on a path to making me see stars.
How can I not have an excuse for our last night?
