The girl on the left has hair that definitely wasn't that color the last time I saw her.
Dark navy blue cascades past her shoulders, shot through with streaks of emerald green that catch the light like gemstones. It's wild and bold and so completely…her.
Or at least the person she always yearned to express but never really could.
My chest aches with longing as I’m finally able to acquire her name from the depths of my memory.
Sage.
Sage Holloway.
My best friend from kindergarten through tenth grade.
The girl who held my hand on the first day of school when I was too scared to walk through the doors alone.
Who split her lunch with me every day for a month when my mom forgot to pack mine.
Who stood between the bullies and me more times than I could count, fists raised and eyes blazing, daring anyone to say another word about Nerdy MaeBell.
The girl who vanished without a trace when we were sixteen.
I gawk at her like an idiot, my brain short-circuiting as it tries to reconcile the memory of my childhood best friend with the woman standing in front of me now.
She's taller than I remember.
Broader in the shoulders. Built like someone who's spent years training for physical combat rather than cotillion classes.
Her uniform is a disaster in the best possible way: baggy pants that look three sizes too big, cinched at the waist with what appears to be a belt made of braided leather. A white button-down shirt that's been rolled up to the elbows and left untucked. The only thing that confirms she actually attends Valenridge University is the navy blazer slung over one shoulder like an afterthought.
Still a tomboy.
Refusing to conform.
The same Sage who told her mother to 'shove it' when she suggested Sage try wearing a skirt to picture day.
But it's her face that really gets me.
Those sharp green eyes, the same color as the highlights in her hair. The smattering of freckles across her nose that she used to hate and I used to envy. The wide, crooked grin that's spreading across her face as recognition dawns.
"Holy shit," she breathes.
And then she's running.
Full-on sprinting down the hallway like the building is on fire, her untied sneakers slapping against the floor, that too-big blazer flapping behind her like a cape.
I don't have time to brace myself before she skids to a stop in front of me, close enough that I can smell her scent. It hits me like a wave of nostalgia:fresh-cut grass and cherry blossoms and the sharp tang of peppermint.
The same scent I remember from sleepovers and study sessions and whispered secrets in the dark.
Omega.
She presented as an Omega after all.
"Oh my god." Her voice is shaking.Actually quivering."Please tell me you're Mae. Mae Rose? Like, Mabeline Mae Rose? The girl I've known since we were literally in diapers? The one who used to make me watch figure skating competitions, even though I thought they were boring as hell? That Mae?"
I open my mouth.
Close it.
