Page 6

I fumble, nearly dropping my phone, and turn toward the voice.

Curly blonde hair and a sly smile appear in my vision.

“Shit, Summer. Stop snooping.”

She waggles her brows.

“You’re hiding something. Don’t think I didn’t notice all those strange trips to the library.”

“Unlike you, I can’t work hard and play hard. If I play hard, I won’t graduate. And look what happened, I’m the only one who didn’t get into Columbia. All of you guys did!”

I groan and step out into the night, a sudden brisk wind whipping my hair over my face.

Gee, thanks, universe.

Rain while you’re at it, won’t you?

The failure stings, but I’ll survive and find something else to go after because the clock keeps ticking and if I believe it, it’ll come true.

I know those mottos will come in handy.

“So, you going to the library again? Why don’t you just work from home? You guys have this gorgeous mansion and you’re rarely there.”

“I focus more when I’m around people.”

And it’s lonely at home.

Eight thousand square feet with more rooms than a family could possibly use, and no one is ever there.

Liam lives with his best friend, and Charles is rarely home.

Walking around those empty hallways, thinking about better days when Mom visits or when Uncle Ian swings by and whisks us off to Coney Island or somewhere fun, is just plain depressing .

My phone pings, and she leans down to peer at the screen.

I angle it away from her.

“You never answered my question. What were you looking at?”

“Just a message from my friend.” A tickle niggles my chest. Is that who Keeper is?

A friend?

Well, of course he is, Lexy.

What else can he be?

And I still have my missing in action “boyfriend,” Dayton, to deal with.

The last few days I’d barely heard from him other than the occasional generic “I’m busy but miss you, babe,” and “my family wants to meet you in person—they’re excited about a Vaughn–Holden relationship, but don’t worry, babe, I don’t care about your last name.”

Maybe with graduation around the corner, I should just let our relationship fizzle out.

That’s what a lot of high school couples do, right?

A headache forms at the base of my neck and I hear the distinct roar of a motorcycle.

“Firefly, over here!” Liam waves from a few feet in front of me, clad head to toe in black leather.

Before I answer, he tosses a helmet at me and he’s lucky my reflexes are fast because if they weren’t, that thing would’ve smacked me in the face.

“Warn a girl next time!” I grumble as he ruffles my hair before I put on the helmet and climb on the back of his bike.

Summer laughs and throws us a peace sign before getting into her car.

“I knew you’d catch it. But then, if it hits you in the face, that’s probably not a bad idea. Get your head out of the clouds.”

The clouds.

My heart skips a beat when I think of Keeper’s words.

“Why are you smiling like an idiot? You’re not thinking about the asshole, right?”

I shove him and ignore his questions.

“Jerk face. What are you doing here?”

“Prying the answers out of you, Firefly. You’re always at the library and I want to know why. Is Dayton giving you shit about college? You know, you don’t need to listen to him, right?” Liam growls, and I can feel the vibrations from under his jacket as he whisks us off toward Ravenswood.

“I never asked for your opinion,” I yell over the traffic noises.

“Shit! I can hear you just fine without all your screaming.”

I wince.

I forgot his helmets have a built-in Bluetooth microphone and speaker system.

“Sorry. And to answer your question, Dayton just wants me to fulfill my biggest potential.”

“He’s just cozying up to you because of your last name. The Holdens are social climbers. You can do better, Lexy.”

“What do you have against him?” Acid rushes up my throat as indignation chars my insides.

The odd thing is, I don’t even think I’m mad at Liam for his words about Dayton.

It’s the comment about people getting close to me because I’m a Vaughn.

Like I have nothing else to offer.

Dayton and I have our issues, but he’s a nice guy.

We made sense when he was at Broadbent.

Captain of the football team with the Vaughn princess.

He is fun, charming, and the life of the party wherever he shows up.

People flock to him, and I wasn’t immune when we met.

People can grow apart.

Maybe college is really busy for him.

“I don’t like him. There’s something off about him. I can’t place it, but call it intuition.”

“Well, lucky for you, you aren’t dating him. You’re not my keeper, you know.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I think of him again.

Mystery guy with the beautiful penmanship who seems to understand me even though we’ve never met.

Liam snorts. “Someone’s gotta look out for you. God knows Charles is too busy to do it, so the responsibility falls on me.”

“Charles is taking on the family business because you don’t want to do it. It’s rough being in the spotlight and you know he cares about us.”

But my oldest brother spends most of his time in the office or at The Orchid—the famous establishment for the rich and famous I keep hearing about.

And of course, both Liam and Charles say I can’t visit The Orchid until I’m “older” because there are a few floors for sexy activities.

But Charles carves out time for us.

Not a lot of time, but enough for dinners during the holidays, taking me to watch ballet at the Met Opera, and Liam goes to him for advice on women and other man things.

Liam grumbles his agreement, and before long, he stops in front of the library.

I get off the bike and hand him the helmet.

He snaps up his visor.

“You never answered me, you know. Why you’re at the library so much these days? It’s not Dayton giving you grief, right? Because I’ll find the bastard and—”

“No. It’s not him. I have a project to work on.” I leave out the entire bare my heart to a stranger in a journal thing because Liam would go all bat shit overprotective older brother if he knew.

He holds my gaze for a second, then his stare softens.

“Good. I don’t know much about the finance stuff you’re working on, but if you need it, I’m sure Charles would help you.”

I smile, a warmth filling my insides.

I know Charles would.

“And don’t sweat college or the future. We’ll take care of you. No pressure. There are no expectations of you.”

My smile falters, but I keep it in place.

“Yeah. I know.”

Turning around, I’m careful to keep my posture upright as I walk into the building when I’m all but crumbling inside.

No expectations.

That’s precisely the problem.

And he doesn’t understand how the words hurt me.

But Keeper gets it. My breath hitches when I think about my pen pal and I quicken my strides, wanting—no, needing—to find his journal and read his words because they’ll make me feel better.

I head straight to where I hid the journal last time, jittery energy coursing through my veins.

Did he figure out my riddle?

Carefully, I push aside the two books in the self-help and psychology section and exhale when I see a small, unassuming scrap of white paper stashed there .

He found it.

Quickly, I open his clue:

Be not just the same,

Learn the names of your feelings,

Share life’s meaning.

Grinning, I stare at the masculine writing and pace in front of the shelves.

He answered my clue with a poem.

Be not the same…learn your feelings.

I’ve read this book before and from the journal entries, I can tell Keeper is well read and smart.

He wouldn’t give me something I can’t figure out.

Feelings…share life’s meaning.

Pursing my lips, I bang my forehead against the shelf, trying to fit the clue in the puzzle.

I know this. The answer is at the tip of my tongue.

A growl vibrates in my chest and I’m about to throw in the towel and leave a note and a white flag where I last hid the journal, hoping he’d find it when he sees the journal untouched where he left it.

Then it hits me.

I dart to the young adult’s section and head straight to the L’s section.

Lois Lowry, where are you?

Bingo!

The familiar leather spine peeks out in between two copies of Lois Lowry’s The Giver .

I loved this book when I first read it a few years ago.

Looking around and finding no one nearby, I plop down on the carpet and open to his latest entry.

Dear Dream(er)-ing of a Payback,

A sucker?

Really? You left a lollipop for me like I’m five ?

You should be lucky I have a younger sister who read The Five Love Languages and relentlessly quizzed me about it, or else there’d be no way I would’ve gotten your clue.

I don’t believe in love and I just broke it off with someone I was seeing.

You probably wonder why and I don’t mind telling you, since we’re sharing things we can’t tell the world.

The men in my family have had shitty luck in the love department.

Generations of bad luck.

Grandma died when she was young.

So did granduncle’s wife.

Then Mom died when I was a toddler.

My oldest brother…let’s call him M.

He had a high school sweetheart he eloped with, and you guessed it, she died too.

All random, freak accidents.

My dad never remarried because he loved my mom so much.

I’d catch him staring into space whenever a certain song came up, or he’d tell us stories about her during Christmas, because that was her favorite holiday.

Then, on the anniversary of her passing, he’d spend the day at the cemetery and his eyes would be red-rimmed when he came back.

So, I don’t feel a particular inclination to try this love thing out.

Plus, I’ve never met someone who took over my mind.

I never felt the urge to text someone first thing after I wake up, or fall asleep with her face in my mind.

I frown, rereading his words.

I’ve never felt this way with Dayton either.

And I wonder if this feeling—the urge he’s describing—is what’s missing for me.

I’m comfortable with what I have right now—friends, family.

I just need a career direction and a sense of purpose, and that’s it.

I hope these letters or journal entries have helped you even though I haven’t really solved any of your problems. Oddly enough, they’re cathartic for me.

Perhaps you’re right—it’s easier to talk to a kindred spirit than to people who know you.

They’d worry about you, try to make you feel better, or try to solve your problems, when sometimes all you want is just a listening ear.

So, thank you.

For your special day in the courtyard—I took a walk down there and you’re right.

It’s peaceful, hidden, and there’s a certain magic about the place—you only want a picnic?

What are you going to do there?

Will you take anyone with you?

And your thing about swimming, I’d offer to teach you—I was on the swim team in high school and college—but since we’re never going to meet, the offer would be useless.

Go sign up for some classes.

Overcome your fear. Something about the clock keeps ticking, right?

Your asteroid question—you need to rethink it because if the asteroid hits the earth, we’d all be dead.

I don’t think there’s much we can do.

What’s up with the what-if questions?

Your friend,

Keeper of Your Valuable Thoughts

P.S.

Not that this helps, but I don’t think you’re easily forgettable.

You know the saying, “A picture speaks a thousand words?” I actually have an opposite belief—words illuminate the soul.

I haven’t met you in person, but based on your words, your zest for life, I know you’re the type of person who leaves an impression.

You’re unforgettable, remember that.

And I’ll always remember you.

Don’t be too hard on yourself.

P.P.S. Good thing about my week: I started a new job and so far it’s going fine.

Bad thing about my week: My ex is badgering me.

She is a good person and I feel like I’ve led her on, even though I was upfront about my expectations.

She deserves someone who can protect her heart.

P.P.P.S. The clue for documentation :

Be not just the same,

Learn the names of your feelings,

Share life’s meaning.

Since you figured it out, that was my gift to you.

As Lois Lowry depicted in her story, the world would be a dreary place without emotions, ambition, or ups and downs.

You may be lost now, but when you’ve found what you’re looking for, satisfaction will taste much sweeter.

P.P.P.P.S. Now that I’m working full time, I can’t swing by as often.

I want to propose a solution.

We can journal once a week, but if you want to chat, we can use Anonytext?

My roommate is a tech guru, and he recommends this service for anonymous texts.

The service routes messages through a third party number.

Here’s a QR code. I already set up my account, so if you want to do it, you just need to scan it, set up your account, and we’ll be linked.

I close my eyes as I finish his entry.

The barbed wire cinching my lungs loosens and the earlier negativity from my conversation with Liam fades.

Keeper’s words—the way he sees me even though we’ve never and will never meet—they’re comforting.

Somewhere out there, someone believes in me.

I think about the past me, standing on stage watching other parents take pictures with their daughters in their leotards after a successful showcase.

How my chest deflated and became numb when I realized they weren’t coming.

They’d forgotten me.

But to him, my keeper, I’m unforgettable.

Smiling, I close the journal.

A slip of paper falls out from the next page—the QR code.

My hand trembles as I pick it up.

It feels momentous. I’m at another fork in the road, and this time there are only two options.

I don’t even need an eight ball to make my choice.

Biting my lip, I take my phone out and scan the code.