“So let’s reclaim it.” His voice is gentle but determined. “Make new memories.”
“Ethan...”
“Unless you want to let him keep it forever?”
He has a point. It’s been months of taking the long way around campus to avoid this trail. Months of letting Miles have this view, these trees, this... history.
“Okay,” I say quietly.
We take the left path. Each step feels like archaeology—there’s the rock where I twisted my ankle and Miles carried my backpack. There’s the fallen log where we’d eat lunch. There’s the curve where he kissed me that October night, leaves crunching under our feet, before telling me it was a mistake the next day.
Then we emerge into the grove, and my breath catches.
The bench is still there. The valley spreads below—campus buildings looking like toys, the town beyond wrapped in afternoon haze.
“Wow,” Ethan says. “I’ve lived here four years and never knew this was here.”
“Not many people do.” I hover at the edge of the clearing. “Miles found it during orientation week.”
“Tell me,” Ethan says simply, settling onto the bench like it’s his.
“Tell you what?”
“Whatever’s making you look like you’re about to bolt.”
I sit carefully, leaving space between us. The wood is warm from the sun, and suddenly I’m eighteen again, believing every whispered promise.
“We came here all the time freshman year,” I start with the safe version. “Every Tuesday and Thursday after CompSci 101. He’d bring terrible cafeteria sandwiches. We’d sit for hours, just... talking.”
“Sounds nice.”
“It was. He was failing when we met. His parents were getting divorced, he couldn’t focus, was thinking about dropping out.” I pull my knees up. “I helped him. Taught him my note-taking system, walked him through every assignment.”
“You saved his academic career.”
“That’s what he said. Called me his ‘guardian angel.’” The words taste like ash. “I was so proud of that. Like being useful to him was enough.”
Ethan’s quiet, letting me talk.
“Sophomore year, things... changed. He’d call me at 2 AM with coding problems only I could solve. Started saying things like ‘what would I do without you?’ and ‘you’re the only one who gets me.’” I stare at the valley, remembering other words. Other promises. “There was this one night, October sophomore year. We were here, working on a project.”
I can still feel it—his hands in my hair, his mouth on mine, the way he said my name.
“What happened?”
“He kissed me.” The admission feels huge after all the of silence. “Really kissed me. Said he’d been wanting to for months. That I was different from other girls. Special.” I pull my knees up to my chest, making myself smaller. My fingers find the hem of my shirt, twisting the fabric—the same nervous habit from all those nights waiting for his texts. “But?”
“But the next day, he acted like it never happened. When I tried to bring it up, he said he’d been stressed about midterms. That he valued our friendship too much to complicate it.” I laugh bitterly. “So I pretended it was fine. Kept being his study buddy. His support system. Hissecret.”
“His secret?”
Shit. I said too much.
“Just... you know. The kiss. He asked me not to tell anyone. Said it would make study group weird.”
It’s not the whole truth. There were other nights, other kisses, other promises to keep quiet. But I can’t admit that.
Can’t tell Ethan how I let Miles use me as his backup plan, his stress relief, his dirty little secret for months.
