“After that, Carson Johnston texted me, asking if I wanted to come to his house to watch the Nuggets game,” he says. “I thought I could numb my emotions and just watch a screen as I worked past my anger, but all I could think about was how my dad thought you were right for me. For the briefest moment, I second-guessed our relationship. If my dad thought it was right, then it had to be wrong. He never once made the right choice.”
I remember Ian’s dad. When he was around, he was angry and bitter and usually drunk by nine in the morning. Nothing propelled Ian into blind fury faster than a run-in with his father.
Of its own accord, my body shifts closer to Ian, eager to hear how his version of our story will end.
“I mean, it wasyou,” he says. “And I loved you. But at that moment, I was so angry that I wasn’t thinking straight. There were a bunch of people at Carson’s house that night, including his sister, Olivia, and she singled me out. I told her I had a girlfriend, but she was persistent. And the more I thought about my dad, all I wanted to do was prove to him that he was wrong. He was always wrong. So… I kissed Olivia.”
Ian winces as if the memory alone causes him pain. “I never liked her, Paige. I knew right away it was a mistake. I was going to tell you at school the next morning, but Olivia leeched onto me in the parking lot, then I saw you in Jordan’s arms. I was completely crushed. I knew I had no right to be. I’d kissed Olivia, and I saw the picture her friend posted. I knew it hurt you, but I thought I could make it right. But then you and Jordan... It looked like you’d moved on. Paige, I made a decision in my anger, but how I felt about you never changed.” He shakes his head. “In one stupid moment, I ruined the best thing I ever had.”
I clutch my exposed arms as goosebumps rise beneath my skin. I still remember the night Ian and I came back from his first varsity basketball game as a sophomore. Ian had scored most of the points against our rival high school, and we had just finished celebrating his victory with our friends. When we walked into his house, his dad was there, and he looked at Ian’s basketball bag and got right up in his face.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep with it,” he slurred. “You’ll be a basketball legend like your old man.” Ian quit basketball the next day.
I can’t help but compare this memory with the story Ian is telling me. It would be so like Ian to throw away all logic when it came to his dad. He would do anything just to spite him. Wasthat really what happened seven years ago—a mistake born of snubbing his dad and not a lack of love for me?
Regardless, his decision was stupid.
“And Jordan?” I ask. “Why did you punch him?”
Ian runs a hand through his dark hair and blows out a breath. “I was jealous, Paige. In just two weeks, Jordan had completely replaced me. I watched you two together. I didn’t know you were just friends at the time—you guys acted like you’d known each other for years. Then there was our friend group.” His jaw clenches for a moment. “I was like a leper who had been cast out, and Jordan was right there to fill the void. I was alone and angry, and I wasn’t in a good place, Paige. When I saw you two at Homecoming, dancing with the friends who wouldn’t talk to me anymore, I was out of my mind with jealousy—so I punched the person I blamed for taking my place.”
Sadness washes over me as I imagine Ian’s side of things. Our friends, or what eventually became justmyfriends, always claimed they got me in the divorce. I laughed over that at the time, probably too angry and bitter to think of what that meant for Ian. But now, all I can see is Ian during our junior and senior year. After Homecoming, I never saw him with Olivia again. He was a loner, always off reading in some corner. At the time, I thought he deserved it, but now I wonder what I would have done if our friends had chosen him and not me. The thought alone makes my eyes prick with tears.
But jealous or not, Ian hit Jordan, and that crossed a line. “Lashing out like that was dumb. You realize that, right?”
His eyes flick to mine, and they are brimming with sincerity. “Yes. I know. There are a lot of things I regret. I came here tonight to tell you that I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve what I did to you.”
At his words, seven years of pent-up emotion rushes to greet me. Hearing the apology I’d longed for all those years ago was like a summer rainstorm washing away my heated feelings.
“I know I don’t deserve this date with you. And I won’t blame you if you decide to walk to your car and drive away. But I would really like a second chance with you, Paige—a chance to prove to you that I’ve changed. I’m not that impulsive, angry boy anymore. And I’m smart enough now not to let a good thing go when I have her.”
The words wrap around me until something unexpected bubbles up inside. I feelwanted. Ian is asking for a second chance with me. Maybe to date me. Maybe to love me again.
I think of Jordan. How no matter how much I hope, the look on his face will never transform into the one Ian is giving me now. Ian’s eyes are telling me that he wants to get to know me again as something more than a friend. Something like we once were.
At one point, I thought Ian was my future. Back then, I wanted him forever. Could we have that again? Can I look past his mistakes and find a new future with him?
Suddenly, I want to find out. I want to give Ian a second chance.
I take a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Okay?” he echoes, sounding surprised.
“Yeah.” I smile. “Okay.”
A mixture of relief and happiness flood his features, then he laughs, and the sound fills something deep inside me.
So maybe my heart isn’t as fortified as I thought.
Out of instinct, we both open our arms for a hug like we used to in the old days, but we hesitate. It feels too soon, but then again, standing there with our arms half extended is far more awkward. We both chuckle, and he gives me this old-habits-die-hard look.
I lean forward, throwing caution to the wind, and close the gap we’ve created. Ian’s arms immediately wrap around me, and it feels like we’re teenagers again and embracing him is the most natural thing ever. And I can’t help but notice that the older, less-gangly versions of us fit perfectly together.
Chapter 12
JORDAN
My fingers rearrange the polished silverware on the tablecloth as Zia scans the menu beside me. It’s been more than five minutes. I lean forward for the fourth time to try to glimpse Paige through the sliver of glass at the restaurant’s entrance, but all I can see is the back of Ian’s gray collared shirt.
