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We left the dark hallway and eventually joined the others in the foyer. Everyone was dressed in summer linens and pastels, waiting to leave for the ceremony.

Outside, Kane had already poised himself on his motorcycle. “We’ll meet there?” he said as he idled near my father’s vehicle.

We shared a look, one that was empty yet said so much. I hate you, I thought.

He winked.

We arrived not later at the field, flanked by the same towering trees Kane and I once hid beneath. He swung off his motorcycle, then made his way to us, his crimson graduation gown flapping in the wind. He looked so achingly good. Devilishly handsome. I had to tell myself, what I felt for Kane was a perfectly curated obsession. Did I ever grow out of it? Maybe. Probably. But I was finding out that I was not subtle in regard to things I cared about.

The ceremony was a blur. We sat beneath the sun while graduates were called in droning succession. Chloe, my close friend since the winter dance, waved at me across the field. That night had marked so many things. Things I couldn’t name. Maybe my obsession was understanding Kane’s mind, not his attraction to me.

As hats soared into the sky, an unbidden, dreadful downpour descended upon us.

“Just what we needed.” I walked away when my mother asked, “Where are you going?”

“I’ll meet you back at home. I’ll get a ride,” I shouted over the noisy droplets. I had no patience to explain further; thankfully she pursed her lips and nodded.

My mother was likely glad to be out of the rain and rid of me.

I trailed off toward the back hallways of the school. It was my favorite place when I started last year. It was private and tucked so cleverly behind the bleachers.

Rain hammered on the steel roofing, drowning my self-deprecating thoughts.

I watched as graduates lifted their partners into the air and shared kisses without the watchful eyes of their parents. Bittersweetness clawed at my chest. How did I end up here? Liking a boy who really couldn’t seem to reciprocate.

“Sara,” a deep voice traveled down the hallway. I swiveled, droplets of water flying from my hair. His voice had changed over the last few months, growing deeper and masculine, and I wished his words would stay behind and wrap around my body forever.

That was selfish though, wasn’t it?

“Kane,” I replied, briefly reeling in my misery. Excitement grew in my chest.

“What are you doing here by yourself?” he approached slowly.

“Will we keep in touch after tomorrow?” I asked, crossing my arms against my chest.

Kane shoved his hands in his pockets as his eyes searched my face. I don’t know what he’s searching for, or whatever answers he hopes to find from running away. I wasn’t even entirely sure he’d thought his plan through.

“I’m not sure that we will. But we haven’t really done that here, have we?”

“What do you mean? We spend every day together.” Anger was rising in my throat.

“Yeah, but did we really?” He shrugged.

His scent curled around me, mint and warm cinder.

“I would say so, yes. We’re friends, right Kane?” I reached for his hand. It seemed like I was always the one making the first moves. The one asking the serious questions.

Without a doubt, Kane had feelings for me, but would never admit it. He allowed the warmth of my hands to engulf the iciness of his. He stared at our intertwined hands which looked like a knot. And knots were sometimes immovable, others were easy to untangle. Whatever it was, knots were still traps.

Gently, I tugged him toward me. Tall and powerful. Kane’s eyes were as rigid and cold as ever. We stood there, two teenagers on the brink of their futures. One running as fast as he could, and the other chasing him as fast as she could. But who would win this never-ending race?

“Did you feel anything the night of that dance?” I asked, seeking something to hold on to. Leaning my head against his chest, I listened to its sure beat. He allowed me this. His hands lingered behind me, questioning whether he should embrace me. He wanted to—like many things—but in the end he chose himself and let his hands limply dangle at his side.

Kane didn’t reply to my question, but I pictured him staring off like he usually did. His superpower was living inside his head.

Stop thinking too much, I wanted to say. I wanted to grab him by the collar and shake the fog from his head.

“I did,” Kane admitted.