Page 39

NATALIE

Y ou never think you're going to lose the love of your life because of a Walmart run. But here we were.

"Are you seriously breaking up with me?"

Easton stood in front of me, his six-foot-something frame silhouetted by the warm orange glow of the streetlamp. He looked every bit the heartthrob the modeling scout had promised he’d become that day in the store—the sharp angles of his jaw, the dark tumble of his hair, those piercing green eyes that had once been solely mine. And now, they stared at me, wide and confused and devastated , like he couldn’t process the words I’d just said.

“Nat,” His voice cracked slightly at the end.

I folded my arms tightly across my chest, digging my nails into my elbows to keep my voice steady. “Yes, Easton. I’m breaking up with you.”

“Why?” He took a step closer, his hands gesturing helplessly. “We’ve been together for three years, Nat. You’re my everything . Why now?”

Because you’re leaving , I thought. Because you’re destined for bigger, shinier things, and I refuse to be the girl left waiting by the phone while you conquer the world. Because it hurts too much to imagine you forgetting about me while everyone else falls in love with you .

But I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I threw up a shield of sarcasm, my oldest defense mechanism. “Because dating someone famous sounds exhausting. I’m not cut out for red carpets and groupies, Easton.”

His brows furrowed. “That’s not—” He cut himself off and shook his head. “You’re not even giving me a chance to prove to you that nothing’s going to change. That I’m not going to change.”

“You’re going to Hollywood,” I said flatly. “You’re going to be in some blockbuster movie that everyone’s talking about. Do you really expect me to believe that nothing’s going to change?”

“Yes.” He stepped forward again, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him, close enough that I wanted to bury my face in his chest and take it all back. But I didn’t. I wouldn’t.

His voice softened, and his hands lifted like he wanted to touch me but wasn’t sure if he was allowed to anymore. “Natalie, I love you. You’re my girl. My soulmate. People say that you can’t meet your forever person when you’re young, but we know that’s not true. You’re my everything . I don’t care about any of that Hollywood crap. I care about you. ”

The cicadas hummed a discordant melody, their persistent song mingling with the low rumble of a passing truck. The air was thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the faint, sugary sweetness of melted snow cones from the carnival down the road. A classic small-town summer night. The kind of night that used to feel like ours.

A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it down. “You think you care about me now,” I finally said, my voice wobbling despite my best efforts. “But give it a year, Easton. Maybe less. You’ll realize you don’t need me. You’ll have everything you ever wanted, and I’ll just…”

“Just what?” His eyes were pleading now, bright and desperate. “You’ll just what, Nat?”

“I’ll just be the girl who held you back.”

He blinked, stunned, and I took the momentary silence to slide past him, turning toward my car. I felt his hand wrap around my wrist, gentle but firm.

“Don’t do this,” he said, his voice a low rasp that almost broke me. “Please, Nat. Don’t walk away from us. I won’t go if that’s what it takes. I’m not going to lose you.”

I pulled my arm free and kept walking, every step heavier than the last. When I reached my car door, I turned back, one hand gripping the frame like it might hold me upright.

“You’re wrong, Easton. No one finds their soulmate in middle school. We’re done.” The words tasted like poison on my tongue. “Good luck in Hollywood.”

And I got in the car, closed the door, and drove away. Pretending that I didn’t hear him yelling “ This isn’t over. We’ll never be over, ” as I ran to the car.

It was over.

Even if it felt like I was dying as I drove away.

The tears didn’t start until I was three blocks from home.

He left the next day.