“I haven’t always been the best person,” Austin went on, ignoring my attempt to deflect. “There are things I’ve been through. Things that might change how you see me.”
I stayed quiet, listening. Because I understood exactly what he meant. Of course, he knew about Holden. He knew about addiction—but he didn’t really know about addiction. He didn’t know what it showed you, what it forced you to witness, or what it carved out of you while you were trying to survive it. Most of all, he didn’t know who I became during that time. Here’s the thing about the people who love you knowing the thoughts that once made you starve yourself almost to death. It changes the way they watch you. Even Cherry, who knew better than anyone that I was okay now, still paid attention to how I moved around food. She was subtle. Gentle. Careful. And I didn’t want Austin to look at me like that.
“I’ve been through things I’m not proud of too, Austin,” I said quietly.
“Really?” he asked.
“Really,” I nodded. “So how about this? We tell each other those things when we’re ready. Not because we think we owe them, but because we want the other person to know.”
Austin didn’t respond right away. For a second, I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing. Then I felt his hands leave my waist. He stepped in front of me, close enough that his height blocked out the stars entirely. His presence was sudden, grounding, impossible to ignore. He lifted his hand and gently took my chin between his fingers, his thumb brushing over my skin with a tenderness that felt deliberate. Careful. Like he was already choosing how not to break me.
“Are you sure?” Austin whispered, so quietly I could barely hear him over the wind. “What if the things I tell you change your mind about me?”
“What if the things I tell you change your mind about me?” I asked in return.
“They won’t.”
“Well,” I breathed, the word soft but certain. “Then I guess we just have to trust each other. I have to trust you, and you have to trust me.”
“You trust me?” Austin asked. A slow, beautiful smile curved onto his lips.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I think I do.”
His smile widened, his eyes moving over my face like he was memorizing it. I held my breath as his gaze dropped to my lips. It flickered back to my eyes for only a second before falling again, drawn there like it had a mind of its own. I could feel the pull between us. I wasn’t sure if I was creating it or if he was. Maybe we both were. Maybe that was the point. We moved toward each other at the same time, and then his lips were on mine again. Just like before—only different. Better. This time, Austin was in control. His mouth moved with the kind of intention I was quickly learning to expect from him. His hands slid into my hair, pulling me closer as we kissed beneath the stars. My hands found his chest, pressing against him as if I could feel the rhythm of his heart through my palms. For minutes, we didn’t come up for air. It sounded like every song I’d ever heard about falling in love. It looked like every romance movie I’d ever watched. It felt like every beautiful book I’d ever read, and somehow, still nothing like any of them at all.
By the time I heard Cherry’s voice, I couldn’t tell where Austin ended and I began. “Blair—oh. Oh shit,” she gasped. “Oh my god.”
I pulled away slowly, my breath uneven. Austin opened his eyes, just as startled. His hands were still on me, lingering, reluctant to leave. Neither of us looked toward Cherry. We only stared at each other, smiling in that quiet, stunned way that came from knowing we’d both felt it.
“Isn’t this cute,” Levi’s voice drifted up, finally pulling my gaze away. Cherry and Levi stood at the bottom of the hill, Cherry laughing into his chest.
“Levi, man…” Austin muttered, clearly annoyed. “What?”
“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Levi said, though his grin gave him away. “Cherry informed me that Miss Blair here doesn’t like to break curfew. Or should I call herYellowtoo?”
“No,” Austin said instantly, scowling at the idea. “You don’t get to call her Yellow. Only I can call her Yellow.”
“Blair,” Cherry said gently, “I’d be more than happy staying out all night, but I know you don’t like worrying your parents.” She was right. And I hated how grateful I was for that.
I sighed. “She’s right.” For a moment, I wished I could be different. I wished I had Cherry’s fearlessness, the kind that never stopped to look back. But she was her, and I was me. And I didn’t.
“Can’t you call your parents and let them know?” Austin asked, his hand finding my waist again, his fingers pressing gently into my skin.
“I don’t want to wake them,” I sighed. Still, I pressed my lips together, considering it anyway.
“Nah, Yellow,” Austin shook his head, smiling. “Don’t change who you are. You’re perfect the way you are. Good girl and all,” he added with a wink. “Come on.”
He took my hand, and the four of us walked back toward the car in silence. But it wasn’t awkward. If anything, it felt like we were all suspended in the same quiet euphoria. Like I’d said before, this field was magic. It was worth it. But maybe it wasn’t just the field. Maybe it was the company, too. I glanced around at Cherry, her hand wrapped in Levi’s just like mine was wrapped in Austin’s. It was an unexpected group—and somehow, it made complete sense. Like pieces that didn’t look like they belonged together until you saw them side by side. As if to confirm my thoughts, the feeling followed us back into town. The windows were rolled down, warm air rushing through the car, music blasting from the speakers. Austin’s hand rested on my thigh, grounding me, keeping us connected.
“Austin!” Cherry yelled over the music. He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Open the sunroof!” Austin laughed and did it without hesitation.
Cherry immediately unbuckled her seatbelt, climbing onto the back seat and pushing herself up through the opening. I watched her throw her arms into the air, her laughter breaking free, her screams of joy dissolving into the rushing wind. And I didn’t think. I didn’t give myself time to. I reached down and unbuckled my seatbelt. Austin looked at me, surprised, his hand lifting from my thigh as I stood up—just like Cherry had.
“Blair!” Cherry yelled as my head popped up through the open sunroof.
I caught a brief flash of surprise on her face, but it lasted only a second before she laughed and threw her arm around my shoulders. I lifted my chin into the rushing wind, letting it pour over my face, tangling my hair wildly around us as we sped through the dark streets. Cherry’s laughter rang out, bright and unrestrained, and before I even realized it was happening,I was laughing with her. Something inside my chest cracked wide open. It was freedom. It was joy. It was happiness. And layered beneath it all was something new, something electric. Excitement. I closed my eyes and lifted my arms into the air, surrendering completely, feeling like a bird that had been caged for far too long and had finally remembered what it meant to fly. There are feelings you remember for your entire life. I was sure of that. The mountains had given me one. The stars had given me another. This was one of them. A feeling made of wonder and beauty and exhilaration, so vivid it felt like it was carving itself into me permanently.
I stayed there until I felt the car slow, the momentum easing, the night gently pulling me back down. When we came to a stop, I opened my eyes. Cherry was already looking at me, curiosity and something softer written across her face. Then I noticed my house beside us, dark and quiet, exactly as I had expected it to be. We lowered ourselves back into the car, and disappointment washed over me immediately. The night was ending, and I was not ready for it to be over.
