Vincent has been hiding something from me for two weeks. Every time I walk into his room, he’s scribbling in that red notebook, and the second I appear, he snaps it shut. He does it every single time he sees me, and I can’t figure out why.
I don’t know what he writes in there, and if it were just a secret diary—like Aurora’s—I would understand. But what really stings is that he lets Max read what’s inside.
It doesn’t exactly bother me, not in a way I can explain, but I wish he didn’t hide it from me. He could simply tell me he wants to write, and I’d be happy to sprawl out on the floor with Daisy and Percy until he’s done.
The only time he didn’t shove the notebook away was last Saturday.
I’d just passed my driving test—on my second try. The first time, I managed to back straight into a low wall while parking. I told the examiner it could’ve been worse—that I might’ve run over an animal. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t appreciate the joke. My dad had to pay for the car’s damages, and my mom was furious, as always. I knew I messed up, I’m not stupid—but still, in the grand scheme of things, there are far bigger problems in life.
When Vincent and I told his dads and Aunt Evelyn about the accident, all three of them burst out laughing. Evelyn’s been living at Vincent’s house these past few months, helping him with meditation and yoga. In the meantime, she found a job as a personal trainer at a gym, just until Vincent feels ready to keep going on his own.
Two months later, I took the test again—and passed. Honestly, I still think Vincent and Steven bribed the DMV, but I’ll take it. I hate driving, but I love screaming along to my favorite songs in the car. Vincent doesn’t have his license yet—his birthday isn’t until December—so I’ve got bragging rights for a little while longer.
Last Saturday, we decided to go to the beach for no particular reason and we went to Ocean Beach.
Evelyn lent me her car since it was smaller than Chris and Daniel’s, and Steven insisted I should drive as much as possible to build confidence. He was the one who taught me, after all.
Meanwhile, Vincent sat in the passenger seat, watching me with that infuriating smirk of his. The entire ride, he alternated between staring at me and writing in his notebook. He’d look up, his eyes catching mine, and it was like fire crawling across my skin. Not uncomfortable—never with him—but intense. Hissmile would flicker through his eyes, and the sunlight lit up his freckles like constellations.
He looked like an artist mid-creation, sketching something no one else could see. Sometimes I wonder what kind of masterpiece he could make if he ever wrote a song. His talent’s unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed.
It’s been a couple of months since he came back from Minnesota. Now it’s mid-October, junior year already in full swing, and that knot in my stomach since his return hasn’t gone away—it’s worse.
I remember having a small crush on Steven when I first met him. I felt butterflies in my stomach, the usual cliché. But this with Vincent? It’s different. It’s constant and it won’t stop gnawing at me.
Vincent still wears his scribbled-on Converse and band tees, but now he takes better care of himself. His curls are still messy, but in a deliberate, charming way. He walks through the halls with a new confidence, and it’s not just me who’s noticed. Since school started, plenty of girls have been eyeing him, and he knows it. They’ve even asked him to the homecoming drive-in, but he always turns them down with that shy smile of his.
He’s my Vincent—the quiet, thoughtful boy with music in his veins and a guitar case slung over his shoulder. Only now there’s a new light in him.
Maybe it’s because of those months away, maybe not.
He’s able to keep his anxiety under control more easily now, and his mood is so much steadier. Even the way he sprays on perfume and spends so much time in front of the mirror fixing his hair—it feels like a good sign. What matters is that it doesn’t turn into an obsession, that he doesn’t pour all his fears into his appearance. I’m happy with the progress he’s making. It’s beautiful to see how much more confident he is in himself. It’sjust that... “I’m not saying that I hate that girls look at him,” I murmur to Aurora as I circle the parking lot, hunting for a spot.
She doesn’t glance up from herI Love Shoppingcopy. “But it does bother you that they ask him out, right?”
I shake my head no, pulling into an empty space and trying not to scrape Evelyn’s car. “No. I’m glad they see what I see... That he’s the perfect guy. It just... bugs me that they didn’t notice him sooner. Dawn McLaren asked him out yesterday! Dawn! The same girl who dropped his lunch tray before he left for Minnesota and told him the hallway wasn’t all his. She wasn’t even paying attention on where she was going and she was the one who dropped his lunch! Now suddenly he’s worth her time? He’s more handsome, sure, more confident, but he’s still him...”MyVincent.
I turn off the car and rest my forehead against the steering wheel. “I’m a toxic friend.”
Aurora rests a hand on my arm. “You know you’re only human, right?”
I nod, and she pauses to think about what to say. She always reflects on everything. I wish I could be like her, learning to weigh every word before I speak.
“There’s nothing wrong with being selfish sometimes. You basically said no one noticed Vincent until he grew into himself, and now that they do, it bothers you becauseyouwere there before anyone else. And that matters to you.”
I sigh, climbing out of the car. She joins me, and together we head for the entrance. It’s 6:30, half an hour until the concert.
“I don’t think you’d say all that unless you felt something deeper,” she continues. “You’re not the type to think badly of people—hell, you’d probably defend the devil himself if you could. But sometimes it’s okay not to be perfect. Being jealous doesn’t make you a bad person. It just means you care.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Jealous?”
She nods, lips twitching. “So jealous that when Bridget asked him out, you begged me to tell you the plot of my book just so you wouldn’t have to listen.”
I shrug. “What’s wrong with showing interest in what my friend’s reading?”
Aurora giggles. “Nice try but I wasn’t reading a novel, Nova. I was reviewing chemistry notes.”
We push through the doors together, the gym buzzing with people. “Chemistry’s fascinating,” I tease. “The eternal love story of hydrogen and oxygen. Or the periodic table’s darkest secrets.”
