His hands are tucked into the center pocket of his hoodie, where he always keeps them when he’s chilling. He’s standing at the edge of the crowd, alone. He’s wearing that look he gets when he’s thinking too hard, usually about hockey. Tonight, I’mguessing it’s also about his brand-new car that just got smashed and that weird guy we met.
His eyes flick up, immediately landing on mine, and my heart slams against my chest like it’s ready to fully surrender. It always does that when he’s nearby. I don’t know if he feels the same magnetism I do. I like to think he does, even though he’s never said anything to hint at it.
Still, he starts walking toward me, and my chest cinches. “Hey, you,” he says when he reaches me.
“Hey, you back.” I don’t even fight my smile. He has always been my person—the one who knows how to make me laugh. “You looked pretty serious over there. Are you worried about your car?”
“Not really. I mean, it stinks, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m glad you’re okay.” He glances at the fire, then back at me. “Hey, can you come with me for a minute?”
I hesitate for a heartbeat, searching for some hint of what’s bothering him, but the truth is, everyone here stands on the cusp of a brand-new life. It makes sense that we all feel a little lost. “Ah, sure.”
Our steps sync as our sandals sink into the sand leading to the private beach near both our families’ lake cabins. My family’s cabin is exactly what you’d expect—wood walls and floors and no air conditioning. It’s been in my family for two generations. My grandparents actually still own it since my single mom never had the money for a second house. His “cabin” is really more of a lake mansion—just one of their many summer houses. Still, I’ve always felt lucky we grew up here together, despite our opposite family situations. We met in middle school and instantly became best friends.
Many of our high school friends have cabins out here too, so our parties are always on this beach. They’re loud, so we walk along the lake until the music fades, and the fire becomes a bluron the horizon. Without saying a word, he steps to the edge of the water and pivots, staring out at the endless black water. After a long beat of silence, he asks, without turning to me, “Did you hear anything about what that guy was saying?”
I blink. “The guy who hit you?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“Uh, no.”
“I want to tell you something, but I’m a little afraid. I also don’t want to drag you into something that might maybe be sort of a secret …” He smiles like he can’t keep it in any longer.
My brows furrow together. “Elijah, what happened?”
“I think it was divine intervention or something—because that wasn’t just some old guy who hit me. It was the owner of Mapleton’s Granite Ice.” He laughs, but it’s shaky. “He recognized my name from all those articles the paper ran and asked where I was going to college. When I said nowhere, he offered me a walk-on spot on his roster—”
“What?” Mytis extra sharp, like I’m suppressing a squeal.
“Yeah, I don’t have an official contract or anything yet, but it looks like I got a job in the AHL.”
In the oddest reaction ever, I look away, swallowing the knot in my throat. Nothing about this sounds legit, but I want it so badly to be true for him that I ignore the alarms in my chest. There’s a long pause. He tips his head toward me, and my heart slams against my ribs. My blinks fire faster than my words. Finally, I slowly say, “That’s amazing. That’s … your dream.”
“Yeah. I mean, if it all actually happens.” He shrugs. “I’m still waiting on the contract, but it sounds good. We’ll see.” He opens his mouth, closes it, then says, “I have something else I want to tell you too.”
His expression softens as he pins me with his gaze. I’ve seen this look before—like he’s trying to read my mind. And I know I’m doing the same, wondering if he’s thinking what I am.
That I could seriously fall in love with him.
That I already have.
I’ve been waiting for one of us to cave and admit it. It doesn’t seem likely—we went through high school just beingbest buddies.I even dated other guys, thinking he’d get jealous. He never uttered a word of disapproval. Sometimes I wonder if we’ve missed our window, if we’ve been friends so long we can’t turn that corner.
He opens his mouth.
Then nothing. He stands there, frozen, like the words are right on the tip of his tongue. “What is it?” I finally ask.
Maybe it’s the excitement about his possible new job. I lean forward, hoping to hear him better since he seems to be having a hard time speaking.
He mirrors my lean, but takes it further, wrapping a strong arm around my waist and pulling me to him with the smoothest motion.
I don’t have time to think—his lips are on mine, and everything else stops. My breath hitches, but I kiss him back.Because of course I do! Because I’ve wanted to for years.
We kiss like we were meant to kiss each other, like we’ve had years of practice. There’s no shyness, no holding back. My heart hammers against my chest, then crawls into my throat, stealing my breath. I’m forced to pull away just to catch it.
A heavy exhale leaves his mouth. He stares at me with an angled look, as if he’s afraid he’s ruined everything. I don’t know what to say … My lips tingle, and everything feels brighter—even the stars behind him seem to pulse. Then, barely above a whisper, he says, “Koren, I love you.”
My heart stumbles, aching in the best way. I want to shout to the heavens that we’re finally on the same page, but instead, I breathlessly say, “I love you too.”
