My gaze fell on dress—accidentally on purpose—and I cursed under my breath for the millionth time today. That goddamn zipper in the front forced me to imagine possibilities I had no right to entertain. At the same time, I was wondering how it was possible that it hadn’t popped open yet just by sheer will on my part.
The voices quieted down, and a title appeared on the screenAll the Bright Places. Hazel’s lips parted in surprise, and she turned to me with a clear question in her eyes.
“I remember you telling me the movie was better.”
She slowly shook her head in disbelief. “You know that’s not a happy movie, right? Not everyone is gonna like it,” she said the most Hazel-thing possible—caring about what other people would like on her birthday—and glanced at people around us.
“Doyoulike it?” I asked, looking straight into her eyes. There was an inner battle going on in her head, and after a moment of not uttering a word, she pursed her lips in defiance.
“That’s all that matters.” I turned back to the screen, smirking at my apparent victory. Whether she wanted that or not, I knew her, and that gave me a great deal of satisfaction. A lot of things recently involving her did.
The painfully obvious truth, however, was that we shouldn’t cross a line we’d both regret. The real problem? The only regret I feared was hers. Because lately, my mind had no space for reason, no room for restraint. And it was driving me insane.
I sifted through the day’s events, trying to sort them into categories, to make sense of them. But one lingered... one wasmaking me particularly anxious. Her words in the forest, and then again in the bookstore, echoed in my mind.
I’m not the girl you want. Not the kind a guy like you is looking for.
If only she knew how much I wanted her. How much she consumed my thoughts, day and night. How she made me rethink my life, my choices, visiting places in my mind I had long shut down. Maybe there was a chance, a way... a possibility of her and me. A world where this could work. Where I could want the same things that she did. That she deserved. In fact, didn’t I already want them?
For the next hour, we got lost in Finch and Violet’s story. Hazel kept stealing glances at me from time to time. Some of the looks I caught, I returned. Slowly, the ocean’s breeze was getting stronger, clouds drifting in, but the weather was still gorgeous. I noticed goosebumps on her shoulders and put on my jacket, which she didn’t even seem to notice, too immersed in the story she probably knew by heart.
Though I hadn’t read the entire book, I had skimmed the synopsis, but suddenly the vibe of the whole movie changed, hinting at something bad. Violet was driving to the lake to find Finch, and it dawned on me before the story showed it—Finch had died in that lake. I turned to Hazel, and her face, quiet in grief, only confirmed my fear. The weight of this whole thing settled heavily on my chest. This wasn’t just a story, it was a reflection. Her mother. Her loss.
Oh God.What have I done? I research and sell stuff to clients for a living, and I couldn’t research this?!
“Hazel,” I whispered, the biggest fucking regret in my voice.
“I’m not crying. You’re crying,” she shot back, eyes fixed on the screen. I took her hand, holding it gently. She squeezed back.
“Hazel, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to....” Why? Just why? Why with her? “I didn’t know. I just saw your book and... I never would’ve suggested it.”
“Luke, it’s a beautiful, sad movie,” she whispered, raising her eyes to me. “It’s still beautiful.” Her teary smile hit me like a train.How could I have fucked this up?
She squeezed my hand again, and without hesitation, I pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her. Despite her having the common sense for both of us, despite knowing how dangerous we were to each other, she let me. She allowed herself to be in the moment. Allowed me to be there for her.
The movie neared its end as dark clouds swallowed half the sky. Somewhere in the far distance, thunder rumbled. As soon as the first warm drops of rain kissed our faces, Hazel tilted her head back, practically beaming in the middle of the storm as if she was born in the middle of it. Molded by water like sea glass, worn by the waves but shining brighter for it.
Then she turned to me and smiled like no one else had.
“I’ve always liked the rain,” she said softly. Those beautiful freckles would be the end of me. A tiny stream of water traced her shoulder, and I brushed the cool skin—smooth as a baby’s.
She. She was my baby.
“Hazel, we gotta go. It’s starting to rain,” I said, grabbing the blanket beside us, covering our heads.
“But it’s the ending,” she protested, but then I saw it—the shift. Her eyes flicked around at everybody else. People had started to gather their things, and I saw her literally shrink in front of me, ashamed that she was making others stay. All because for a second, she let herself want things out loud, and in her world, that was apparently a terrible crime.
“Hey, what are we doing?” Ethan yelled, trying to shield Summer with a cocktail umbrella.
“Or we can go. If you want to go, we can go,” Hazel said, guilt thick in her voice. I held her gaze for a moment, losing myself in her eyes again.
“Do you want to stay?”
“No, you’re right, we should go. Everybody’s getting wet, and the storm—” she mumbled.
“Hazel,” I said, a warning in my voice. Her eyes flickered nervously, and I could see her pleading not to make her do this. But I couldn’t. Not today.
She hesitated, pressing her palms together. “Yes.”
