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“There was always…” he pauses a moment before continuing, “It always felt obvious to me, the undercurrent of sadness in you, even before…” He inhales and exhales a deep breath, gesturing towards the painting. “But I never imagined it felt like this.”

And there it is.

Pegged.

Just like that.

By the only person in the world I imagine could do so.

And what is there to say to that, really? So I find myself simply nodding, silently agreeing with his words. I honestly don’t think I even saw it myself back then—the weight of it. Felt it, absolutely. But understanding the depth of it, and the amount of therapy and art it would take to get me through it, not even close. I had no clue.

“It’s my favorite, too,” I eventually say. “I’m having a hard time letting go of it.”

He turns to me fully, and I allow my eyes to sweep over his face without restraint. To linger on the curves of his full lips, and the small scar on his chin buried beneath the scruff of his five o’clock shadow. His nose, his cheekbones, his jawline—the strong definition of each of these features that make up his perfectly imperfect face.

When my eyes meet his once more, I realize he’s been studying my face just as freely.

He smiles. Uneven, hesitant. “Maybe you’ll come by my house sometime, then. See where I’ve hung it on my wall.”

It takes a few lingering seconds for his words to sink in, but when they do, I suck in a quick breath.He bought it?“You—”

But Ricky walks over, interrupting me before I can finish that sentence, and the dozens of others running quickly behind it. “We’re done, baby girl!” He sweeps me up and spins me around until I can’t help but laugh. “We’re going out to celebrate!” When he spots Greyson, he has no shame in asking, “And justwhois this delicious slice of man cake?” low enough that only I can hear.

Please don’t show a reaction; please don’t show a reaction.

“Ricky, this is Greyson, an old friend,” I introduce. “Greyson, this is Ricky, my crazy and amazing newest friend.”

I can see the way Ricky almost chokes on his next words. “Oh? So nice to meet you,Greyson.”

Greyson stands with an amused curve to his lips, and they shake hands.

Ricky turns to me, bugged eyes. So much for not showing a reaction. I hide my smile and hold back a snort of laughter. He turns back to Greyson, smooth mask of feigned nonchalance in place. “The girls and I are going out to celebrate our lovely Jess here. Would you like to come?”

It doesn’t surprise me that he asks. Nothing with Ricky does at this point. I look to Greyson with a soft smile, waiting for his answer. Expertly hiding the fact that so much of me is hooked on his impending response, waiting on bated breath. I want him to come. Desperately.

“Of course, absolutely,” he says, eyes glued to mine. “If Jess doesn’t mind,” he adds.

“No, of course not. I’d love for you to come,” I easily admit. The relief I feel is palpable; hopefully it’s not as evident to him.

But the deeper I sink into his gaze, the more obvious it is that he does know. He can see right through me. Can somehow look into my eyes and see straight down into my soul just like he always could.

But more than that, he willingly lays himself bare, too. Allowing me to see right through him as well.

And he’s just as relieved as I am.

Twenty-eight Before

SO, THE NEXTday, I was completely taken off-guard. Because Greyson was ignoring me. I was sure of it. We hadn’t talked all day. Not once.

In first period? He’d barely even glanced my way. In the hallways? He was mysteriously absent. First break? Still absent. And now, at lunch, he was so engrossed in that notebook of his that he wasn’t paying any attention to anyone around him, let alone me. He was wrapped up in his own little world, sitting inside of an invisible bubble separating him from the rest of us.Fromme.

I tried to not let it get to me. I tried so hard. But it was impossible when I knew that the reason he was being suddenly distant and quiet had to be because of me. Because of everything that had happened—oralmosthappened—between us the night before.

I was having such a hard time drawing the lines between then and now. Lines that should’ve been showing me exactly what had changed for him between“Goodnight”and the most genuine smile I think I’d ever seen anyone wear, to this morning. To this moment right here, with Greyson sitting as far away from me as he could while still appearing, for all intents and purposes, to be a part of our group.

And honestly, I was used to this kind of ebb and flow with us. The way he seemed to retreat every time he gave me too much of himself. But it was different this time; itfeltdifferent this time. Because I’d thought that for sure this time itwouldbe different…after everything.

The bell rang, sucking me back into the present. I sat there and waited for Greyson. Waited, because we always walked to the back of campus together for our next classes, but instead of looking up and finding me, he flipped his notebook shut, slid it into his bag, and walked across the quad to the front of school without once looking back at me.