He was the brightest person I’d ever met.
Just before sunrise, under a lavender sky, we shared a kiss that felt like a beginning.
I was sure it was. So sure that I didn’t ask for his last name, phone number, email address, or apartment number. I knew I’d see him again later at the pool.
I did not. Not that night, or the one after, or the one after that.
For weeks, I was heartbroken.
And then I wasn’t.
He’d been what I’d needed that night: a comrade, a comfort, a kiss. He became the boy to whom I compared all others.
Henry has put a lid on his laughter, but now I’m giddy thanks to his reappearance, this boy I’ve spent the last three years romanticizing. I shock myself by catching a fit of giggles so intense that I’m short of breath by the time they subside.
“Hell of an entry,” he says, grinning. “Ten points for the splash alone.”
He’s taller than me by several inches and has the physique of someone who cares about fitness. Three years ago, he was all limbs. He’s got his book tucked under his arm, which is inkeeping with my memory.
“I’ve been practicing, obviously,” I say with a blasé shrug. I toss the offending cotton ball into the pile I’ve made of its friends, then check my nails. Miraculously, my manicure has survived. Hopefully my witch hair will too, if I give it a good rinse when I get upstairs. “I haven’t laughed that hard in forever,” I admit.
Lately, I haven’t laughed much at all.
“Me neither,” he says in a melancholy tone that hints at tough times.
Where did you disappear to?I think, gazing up at him.
His voice is lighter when he says, “Thanks for the show.”
“Thanks for setting it in motion.”
He extends a hand again, this time likeNice to meet you. I lose a breath to disappointment—he doesn’t remember. But why would he? I was a blip on the radar of his life. A sad girl, a sweet kiss, an abridged romance. I bet he’s met hundreds—thousands—of people between then and now. I bet he’s captivated them all.
The truth of it is that I idealized a stranger, let one night become of astronomical importance in my mind. I wove an entire fantasy from the threads of a boy I knew for a few hours.
But now, here he is.
His hand is still outstretched, and the vibe between us is becoming awkward.
I can play this off. We’ll simply meet again, for the first time.
I slide my palm into his.
You’re a stranger to him, I remind myself.
Except now he’s holding on to my hand like a lost friend found.
He says, “How’ve you been, Piper?”
Henry
“You remember,” she says on an exhale.
I smile. “How could I forget?”
She pulls her hand free of mine; I’ve been clinging to her for-fucking-ever.
Get a grip, Henry.
