Page 4

AMELIA

Hours later, Tia drops Maya off at home because she works early in the morning. I was going to stay at a hotel because my apartment isn’t ready until tomorrow, but Tia insisted I stay in their guest house, which doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I love her company.

I slide open the frosted glass shower door and flick the water with my fingers to test the temperature. I like it scalding hot, not quite boiling but close. Stepping inside feels like pure bliss. Warm water cascades down my body as I close my eyes, let out a deep breath, and detangle my curls.

I washed it tonight, which practically took a chunk out of my hair.

Okay, it didn’t actually take a chunk out, but it sure felt like it as I kept peeling loose strands off my hands.

Stepping onto the white bath mat, I yank the towel off the hook and wrap it around my body, and trot over to the granite countertop. I quickly go through my curly hair routine which only consists of a leave-in conditioner and mousse from my mini travel bottle.

I’ve decided to let it air dry tonight since I unfortunately don’t have the universal diffuser attachments, which, note to self: Buy ASAP. I’d use the regular one but I’m not about to risk it.

Slipping into a pair of sweats and an oversized sweatshirt, I briskly walk across the stone-paved courtyard, feeling like a kid as I leap over the cracks in the concrete.

The cool LA breeze ruffles my hair, and I slide open their backdoor, stepping into the warmth of their home, the scent of lavender wafting into my nostrils.

Tia’s sitting at her kitchen island, looking deep in thought and my brows furrow as I approach her.

“You okay?” I look down at her wedding scrapbook, open to the seating arrangements page. Jared’s name at the table across from mine.

She sighs, exasperated. “Are you sure you’re okay with Jared coming?”

“It’s fine,” I say quietly, biting the inside of my lip.

It wouldn’t be fair to ask Amir to uninvite his own cousin from their wedding. It’s not his fault that it happened and his whole entire family will be there. I have no right. It’s not my day.

She leans in, whispering so Amir doesn’t hear her from the other room. “I could tell Jared a lie so he doesn’t?—”

“No, don't do that.” I shake my head, resting my hand on hers. “It’s been a year. I’m completely over it already.”

A white lie never hurts anyone.

She’s silent for a moment, knowing I’m lying but she doesn’t push. I’m grateful for that. Am I completely over it? No. But I’m not hurt as I once was. That has to count for something, right?

Four years I was with him. Those feelings didn’t disappear like I hoped they would.

I thought that the moment I caught him cheating, it’d be like a fairy waving her magic wand and poof , all my feelings would vanish. But life doesn’t work that way. I can’t turn them off like a switch. We had our moments, and maybe that’s what I’m still holding on to by a thread.

A frayed thread.

He doesn’t deserve to invade my thoughts and live rent-free in my head, but I know I need to try harder to let him go. Hopefully, I’ll get there one day.

“How about we do an old tradition of ours before we call it a night?” I squeeze her hand gently, wanting to move on from this sore topic. I just want to start fresh, not dwell on the past.

We both simultaneously glance at the kitchen clock. 11 p.m. Not too late.

“Movie?” Her eyes light up as she slams the wedding scrapbook shut.

“Movie.” I giggle in confirmation and we sprint into the living room like we’re teens again, plopping down onto her sectional couch.

Amir emerges from the other room, shaking his head with a smile before tossing a throw blanket. I catch it flawlessly.

He heads over to Tia and kisses her goodnight before heading upstairs. “You two have fun.”

Oh we will.

She snatches up the remote buried under the pillow and I shake out the blanket, draping it over us as she puts on a classic.

Mean Girls.

Waking up to the smell of eggs and bacon, my stomach rumbles instantly. Letting out a yawn, I stretch, rubbing my eyes before peeling off the blanket. I unzip my suitcase, throwing on a pair of denim shorts and a blush pink tank top.

After changing, I open the guest room door and pause, confused as to why Caleb is here, cooking with headphones on at 8 a.m.

Black sweats, a plain white tee, and somehow even more toned than the last time I saw him. His Coach really has them working.

He must’ve felt my presence because, slowly he pulls off his headphones, letting them rest around his neck. He glances over, a familiar grin I know too well spreading across his face, looking like he’s up to something. “Hi.”

“Morning,” I round the mini kitchen island, dropping down onto a barstool. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to see you…but why are you here?”

“Tia told me you were getting the keys to your new apartment today,” he states, turning back to the stove, not fully answering my question as he scrambles the eggs.

“I am.” I eye his back suspiciously. “I should probably go meet them in the house, they’re taking me on their way to work.”

“They left already,” he replies, flipping the bacon in the other pan. “I told them I’d take care of you.”

“Wow, how noble of you.”

His mouth twitches in amusement as he turns the stove off, sliding the scrambled eggs onto a plate along with the bacon and perfectly stacked pancakes. The smell instantly hits me and my stomach growls again.

“Breakfast is served, milady.” He sets the plate in front of me, then gives me the most dramatic bow I’ve ever seen. “Close your eyes.”

I chuckle and do as he says. I'm so used to his antics that I don’t bother questioning it. The fridge door opens and closes, followed by a loud hiss of a whipped cream canister.

“Now, open,” he murmurs.

I slowly open my eyes to find my pancakes now cutely decorated with a heart drawn in whipped topping with a strawberry on the side.

My favorite fruit.

Warmth spreads through my chest at the little detail. Ever since we were teenagers, he’s always done the sweetest things for me.

Freshman Year High School, April 2013

“Hey, remember that early screening movie you wanted to see next weekend?” Caleb asked, taking a bite out of his sandwich as we sit overlooking the rippling ocean.

We always loved coming to Manhattan Beach after his Friday night football practices. It was peaceful and calm. The gentle cool breeze, the salt air, the quietness of it all. Our little escape from reality.

Our bubble.

“Don’t remind me. I’m still mad I didn’t get the tickets. I was fifth in the queue!” I groaned.

Without a word, Caleb unzipped his backpack, pulling his phone out.

“What?” I frowned, confused.

“Click the movie app.”

My thumb pressed down on the app. Bright green text flashed along the top:

Payment Successful. Two tickets purchased.

“No, you didn’t!” I squealed, loud enough that the houses behind us probably heard. “How did you get these? I couldn’t even get one and I stayed up all night!”

“I was in the queue too,” he chuckled. “Had my phone, iPad, computer, and my mom’s phone open. Got lucky on the iPad.”

“Why’d you get two?” I stared at him, with the biggest smile on my face. “You didn’t even want to go at first.”

“Yeah, but you did.” He looked at me with that kind, thoughtful look I’ve seen a million times, and my heart melted. “That’s enough of a reason.”

“You didn’t have to make me breakfast.” I say, stabbing the strawberry with my fork, taking a small bite. “But I won’t complain.”

“Good,” he says cooly, pouring me a cup of orange juice. “Now, eat up princess.”