“I guess we’re both pretty good at pretending,” I whispered.
He nodded once. “Yeah. I guess so,” he said, and a moment later, he turned the music back up.
We sat in silence the rest of the way home, lost in the weight of all we didn’t say. All we couldn’t say. The air felt thick and heavy, like if either of us dared to speak, it might all come spilling out—every buried feeling, every reckless mistake, every aching want we’d tried so hard to ignore.
So we said nothing.
And somehow, that said everything.
We pulled up to my house just after nightfall. He lowered the music as we came to a stop, and I turned to get out.
“Syd?” he said, his voice soft.
I turned around. “Yeah?”
I thought he was going to say something more, but he didn’t. Maybe he lost his courage, or maybe he decided it wasn’t worth the breath. Or maybe he was waiting for me to say it first. But I wouldn’t. I never could.
“See you tomorrow?” he said instead, and my heart felt sad for a reason I couldn’t place.
“Obviously,” I said with a sarcastic smile.
I climbed out and watched him drive away. He held his hand out the window in a motionless wave as he turned the corner, and I did the same.
My heart was heavy with the weight of his admission that mirrored my own. I hated how much I wanted to escape it, and felt no way out. I hated how much I wanted more of the boy I knew I could never have. I hated how much I wanted to know if he felt the way I did.
I went straight to the shower and tried to calm my nerves. I tried to focus on the easy parts of the day that I enjoyed: the music, the ride, his sweet crooked smile that found mine the whole time. I threw my notebook on my bed the second I got to my room.
Then I remembered his writing.
I searched every page until I found his perfect handwriting in solid black ink. There, with nothing else around it, were seven words that would change my life forever…
To You — I don’t want to pretend.
Track 6
“Spend The Night”
-Earth, Wind & Fire, 1993
ENZO RETURNED FROM school by late spring and immediately started gallivanting like he had to make up for lost time. He was a loose cannon, worse than before, and it was the turn-off of the century. But like everything, it didn’t start out that way.
I was excited to see him when he picked me up from school on his first day of freedom from the ‘educational prison sentence.’ He walked up to the back of the building just as the final bell rang, arms stretched wide, and I ran and jumped into them like a military wife greeting her soldier. We kissed through wide smiles as he held me up in the air, my legs wrapped around him. Peopleaww-ed all around us at our adorable affection, but that was where the cuteness ended and his wild antics began.
It was instant. After that first day, it was clear we weren’t clicking. At first, I brushed it off—the way he picked at everything I did, the sarcastic tone he used even when he wasn’t trying to be rude. I told myself it was just his personality and that I shouldn’t take it personally, but his nagging, condescending attitude started to get old quickly.
Every conversation felt like a challenge I didn’t know I was in. Every eye roll, every snide remark and passive-aggressive dig chipped away at the version of myself I liked best. Soon, I started to resent him—not just for the way he treated me but for the way I began to respond. I didn’t recognize myself anymore, and something in me started to shut off. Once that switch had flipped, it was hard to pretend it hadn’t.
The night I think he noticed was the beginning of the end.
We were heading to E’s for a small get-together while his parents were out for the night. I hadn’t seen E much since November—conflicting work schedules sprinkled with slight avoidance on my part—but I was overly excited. It was getting on Enzo’s nerves.
“Why are you smiling so much?” he snapped.
“I’m just happy. I don’t get to hang out much,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.
“Okay, well, quit it. It’s annoying.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re such a dick.”
