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Just one more peek. Then another, until I’m as familiar with her as I’m willing to allow her to be with me.

“I grew into my own person early on and realized I didn’t like the things she wanted me to. Instead of brushing the Barbie’s hair, I chopped it off and coloured it with Sharpie. The teacups started to go missing, and I snapped the heels off my shoes. That’s the end of all those memories,” she mutters.

It’s not, but I don’t push. She’s already opened up to me more than I was expecting her to, and that’s good enough for right now.

“When do you want to break the news to your parents? Think they already know?” I ask, finding a groove with the easy swaying motion. Maybe I’ll be able to step it up next weekend.

“If they don’t already know, they will by the end of the night. But sooner is probably better than later. Otherwise, I’ll get a text telling me the time and place for my next blind date.”

“Is it bad that I’m kind of excited?”

“To stick it to my parents?”

I tip my chin.

“Fuck no. I’ve been waiting for a chance to tell them to shove it for years.”

I feel the vibration from my laughter all the way down to my toes.

“There’s no better time like the present, then.”

She holds my excited stare and squeezes my fingers before releasing my waist and rolling me out along her arm. I squeak in surprise and nearly trip over my feet but steady myself at the last minute, choosing to trust that she knows what she’s doing with this new move.

With our arms forming one long, straight line, I come to a stop and suck in deep breaths, my chest rising rapidly. Bryce keeps her sights on me and only me. Just like that, time stalls, as if it’s as surprised by this moment as I am.

Lips parting before spreading into a tooth-flashing grin, Bryce laughs with the entire force of her being. I freeze at the happiness vibrating in the freeing sound and allow myself to be pulled back into her body.

Only this time, the strength of her tug brings me closer than I was moments prior until our breasts smoosh and mouths hover close enough for me to taste her next words.

“Yeah, I think the present is a pretty fucking good place to be right about now, Sunshine.”

19

DAISY

I getto school Monday morning early enough that the parking lot is completely empty and the prime spots are mine for the picking.

I’m not the worst driver per se, but it’s definitely nice to have the time to get my car perfectly straight and in the centre of the yellow lines without anyone watching and judging how many attempts it takes.

My book bag is heavy as hell as I pick it up from the ground and drape it over my shoulder. A stack of Duo-Tangs, binders, and my planner fill my arms next before I head for the school doors.

A deep magenta and fiery, orange-coloured sunrise streaks across the crisp fall grass, and as the biting breeze nips at my cheeks, I’m grateful I tossed on a jacket before leaving the house.

Bryce’s leather jacket that I never returned after stealing Saturday night.

The same night I felt a few of the bricks from Bryce’s walls crumble to dust with our conversations. We’ve never spoken so much about ourselves before. It was like we were interested in digging deeper than what I had originally thought when we first agreed to this.

With a bit of struggle due to my full hands and aching shoulder, I make it inside the building and down the hall to my classroom without dropping anything. It’s completely silent besides the squeak of my Converse on the freshly waxed floors, and I smile, taking a long breath, soaking in the first-day nerves.

My inhale rips right back out of me the moment I see my classroom.

Yes, I did put a bit more work into finishing it before we went to Peakside Saturday night so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed to have students and parents come inside, but it wasn’t perfect yet.

There certainly weren’t new chalkboards hung for the kids to scribble on between lessons or multicoloured lounge chairs and a rainbow bookshelf in the corner of the room for reading and visiting. I know for a fact I hadn’t purchased a yellow, flower-shaped rug for beneath my desk either.

Pinching the skin of my wrist doesn’t change the view in front of me. It’s not a dream, then. I clutch the binders and books into my chest and gawk at the classroom of my dreams.

“Oh, wow! You totally beat me in the classroom department. It’s so cute.”