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Girls like me don’t get happy endings, but tonight I got a glimpse of a happy future that felt possible for me in that moment. A future full of dangerous hope, and I can’t help but tie it all to Laine.

How is it that only when I’m with her does it feel like everything could be okay? That I can move on from the decade of hurt my dad caused me. How could someone whojustcame back into my life so drastically change my mindset on it all?

Laine held an immense amount of power over my mind and body solely through ripples of water. Though I have to admit, it was refreshing—and oddly attractive—seeing her take control like that tonight.

8

Laine

Last night with Drew was the most alive I’ve felt in

years. I don’t know what came over me, but before I knew it, I was suggesting ideas I never would have even agreed to under different circumstances.

Drew made me loosen up in a way that was almost freeing after being so tightly coiled from living up to my parents’ expectations and our perfect outside image. It’s a tiring facade to uphold, but with Drew, I can be the kid I never got to be when I was younger.I can be messy with no fear of judgment or rigid thinking. I can fall apart and be a stupid teenage girl who makes stupid teenage decisions for once instead of being the adult stuck in a young girl’s body who’s called “very mature for her age” by every real adult she talks to.

It’s scary how close Drew and I have become in such a short amount of time, and although the feelings of a whirlwind friendship are exhilarating, what is built quickly can be broken just as quickly.

My mind wanders through every possible scenario of where this friendship could lead, poignantly reminding myself that it would be a bad idea to get too attached. I know I can’t go through another loss this year. I don’t think my heart could take it, and it wouldn’t be healthy for me to pick up the pieces again after another fallout.

But deep down, some part of me trusts Drew. She feels different somehow, like there’s something about her that makes me intrigued to see this through, even if it ends horribly. I’ve already shared so much of myself with her—even parts of me that I hadn’t even admitted to myself—that to me, it all feels worth it.

When I open my eyes, I find Drew’s face comfortably close to mine, sleeping soundly. I sit up, noticing her hair is sprawled out over the pillow and still slightly damp from last night’s swim. Her cheek is pressed firmly into the cotton pillow, and there’s a small pool of drool beside her mouth. Her legs are resting straight out, and her arms are neatly tucked under her pillow.

She looks like an angel in her sleep, so calm and collected, like she has no worries or responsibilities to wake up to. Then ithits me, and I feel the sudden urge to capture this moment in graphite—to savor this sight forever.

I grab my sketchbook as quietly as I can and rummage through my bag to find my mini travel supplies box. Immediately setting out to draw Drew before she wakes up, I flip to a blank page and lightly set my pencil on the paper. As it glides across the paper, I take in each faint freckle on her face, and the birthmark at the top of her forehead just below her hairline that I hadn’t noticed before.

I carefully brush her hair out of her face to get a better view of the birthmark, and she lets out a soft grunt. As I jerk my hand back, afraid that I awoke her, she buries the side of her face deeper in the pillow and goes still again.

As I’m finishing up my sketch, her eyes flutter open. She stares at me and then gives way to a smile.

“Good morning,” she says quietly as she stretches, her voice faint and soft. “What are you doing?”

Drew squints and reaches her hand out toward my sketchbook.

“Oh, it’s nothing!” I say, embarrassed, and scramble to hide it.

I was hoping to have it done and put away before she woke up, but now that she caught me, I might as well show her. I hold out the paper for her to see.

She takes the sketchbook and squints again, her eyes still adjusting to the morning light coming through the window.

“This is… wow.”

“I’m sorry if it’s creepy. I wasn’t done yet either-”

“No, I love it.” She looks up at me, her hair still a mess from last night, but completely dry now.

“Oh,” I whisper softly.

“Was this just now? When I was asleep?”

“Yeah…” I play with a strand of my hair awkwardly.

“It’s so… raw.” She glances down at the paper again, then back up at me. “It’s a beautiful impression of me. Is this really what I look like when I sleep?”

I nod. “You sleep so perfectly. Like you’re conscious of your body but you’re not really, if that makes sense.”

“It does make sense,” Drew echoes without hesitation, like I’ve always made sense to her.