Chapter 3
TRU
If I’d known how hard he’d be to unlove, maybe I wouldn’t have promised forever.
The ceiling fan hummed above, steady as breathing, while tree branches scratched softly at the glass. The room glowed molten orange from the lava lamp, shadows sliding in lazy circles over the walls.
Darien lay in the trundle beneath me, arms tucked behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if he was waiting for it to crack open. I stared into the dark, just as restless.
The quiet between us was heavy, like it had things to say if either of us were brave enough to ask.
“You still awake?” I whispered into the dark.
“Yeah,” he whispered back.
I rolled onto my side, facing the wall, and picked at a spot on the edge of my pillowcase. “You okay?”
He didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know.”
His voice was tight enough to stretch through the room and snag me.
“My parents are fighting again. It's every day now. I can't take it anymore.”
“They'll work it out,” I assured him because I didn’t know what else to say.
“I don't think so. Not this time. I heard them talk about splitting up last night. I think they're getting divorced.”
Rolling away from the wall, I reached for his hand in the dark, and he slipped his into mine, lacing our fingers together.
“I'm sorry. That sucks.” I wanted to crawl down onto his mattress and hug him, but I guessed that would be weird.
“What if I lose one of them? If they move out. I mean, that's what happens when parents’ divorce. They move out. Right?”
“I don’t really remember my dad,” I said quietly. “He left when I was five. I remember he had this cologne that smelled like pine trees, and he used to whistle when he made pancakes. But I don’t remember the day he left. I just woke up one day and his stuff was gone.”
Darien didn’t say anything, but I could feel his eyes on me. It must be even harder for him to lose someone he had eleven years of memories with.
“I see him sometimes,” I added. “A couple times a year. Holidays, usually. He acts like I’m a guest. Like I’m… temporary. It’s not the same,” I admitted. “But I know what it feels like. Being scared someone might leave. Or already has.”
That heavy silence stretched between us again.
“I don't know if you'll lose them,” I added, “but you'll always have me. I'm not going anywhere.”
“Promise me, Tru. You have to swear it.”
The desperation in his voice worried me. “I swear it, Dare. You’re stuck with me forever.”
His voice came out rough. “What if it’s my fault?”
“It’s not.”
“How do you know?”
I swallowed past the knot in my tongue that tried to hold back the words I’d never admitted to anyone before. “Because I thought it was my fault too. For years. And it wasn’t. It just... wasn’t.”
Dare shifted under the blanket, maybe moving closer. “I don’t want things to change.”
“They already are,” I said softly, inching closer to the edge of the mattress. “But you’re not alone, Dare. You have me.”
Moonlight glinted in his eyes as he peered up at me. “Even if they split up and I have to move?” he asked.
“Even if the whole world splits up,” I whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He didn’t say anything else. But a few minutes later, I heard him sniff. Just once. I didn’t mention it. He drifted off first, chest rising and falling easily, while I lay awake with the fan whispering overhead and the ceiling shifting in restless patches of dark.
I didn’t have a name for the feeling twisting in my chest, not then.
But I knew this much—I wanted to be the place he ran to when everything else came crashing down.
And I meant every word. Even if someday he forgot I ever said them.
The rest of our eleventh summer blurred into a string of perfect, ordinary moments.
We swam almost every afternoon, racing laps and launching cannonballs into the deep end until my mom brought out lemonade and frozen grapes.
We rode bikes in lazy loops around the cul-de-sac, daring each other to pedal with no hands.
There were endless soccer practices and games, junk food-fueled movie marathons, shared dinners, and sleepovers.
For a little while, it felt like maybe the world was holding steady. But just before sixth grade started, everything changed. At least, for Dare.
We were under the ramp again, our favorite spot, hiding from the sun. It was too hot to draw, too hot to dream, too hot to do anything but exist. A cicada buzzed nearby, loud and slow.
Dare picked at the splintered wood beside him. “I heard my dad yelling about my mom’s new boyfriend last night.”
I’d started calling him Dare a while back, not because anyone else did, but because it fit. He never said no to anything, never backed down from a challenge, even the dumb ones. That’s how I’d come to think of him, daring. Like the name had always been sitting there, waiting for someone to use it.
I jerked my head toward him, blinking hard. “Wait, what?”
He scoffed. “Apparently, she’s seeing someone already. She hasn’t even moved out yet. Isn’t that fucked?”
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I can’t imagine.”
He nodded because he expected that. Dare whispered the next words as if it were a secret. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to live with her.”
My stomach twisted. “Why not?”
“I heard my dad say something about the guy she’s seeing. Apparently, he has a record.”
I swallowed, heart thumping. “Like… he’s a rockstar?”
Dare laughed sharply. “No, dumbass. A criminal record. My dad says he’s done bad stuff. That he’s not safe to be around. That I’d be better off here.”
A heaviness thickened the air.
“She’s choosing him, Tru. Some guy she barely knows… over me.”
Bitterness bled through his voice, and heartbreak, and my heart splintered right alongside his. “I would always choose you,” I promised. “Again and again. I can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t.”
His expression wavered, balanced between trust and disbelief.
I wiped my palms on my jeans, then stood up and faced the post where I’d drawn our names last summer. The red ink had faded now to a pale pink, but still holding strong.
Tru + Dare
NO GIRLS ALLOWED
I drew a blue heart around it, and beneath that in messy scrawl I added, forever. But even as I capped the marker, I knew it wasn’t enough. Ink could fade. I needed something solid, something that couldn’t wash away.
Reaching for the button on my shorts, I said, “We have to piss on it.”
Dare appeared scandalized. “What?”
“On the heart. Our names. It seals the deal.”
“T-That’s not a thing.”
“It is now.”
He didn’t budge. “Why would we piss on it?”
“I don’t know. It just… sets it in stone. Forever.” I jerked my head toward him. “Come on. Whip it out.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You’re insane.”
“Piss promise,” I said solemnly. “It’s sacred.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and forced my body to cooperate. It took a second, but I managed a small stream that hit the heart and dripped down the post.
I zipped up and glanced over my shoulder. “Your turn.”
With a dramatic sigh, Dare got to his feet. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Come on,” I urged with a mischievous grin. “Seal the pact.”
He unzipped, and a second later, a warm arc of urine splashed over the Sharpie letters. The dirt at the base of the post soaked it up greedily.
Dare zipped back up and gave me a half-smirk. “You’re such a freak.”
“Yeah, but you pissed too.”
“Under duress.”
“That’s a big word. You stole that from our vocab test.”
Dare rolled his eyes. “Yeah, ‘cause you made me study for it.”
I held out my palm, then spat into it. “Now we spit on it.”
He stared at me. “I thought the piss was the deal.”
“We’re double-sealing it,” I said. “Piss promise and spit shake.”
Dare made a face, but spit into his hand and slapped it against mine. Our palms met, wet and hot. His grip was tight. Unflinching.
“There,” I vowed. “That’s it. Best friends for life. No one can ever split us up. Even if you have to move away. Even when we grow old and boring. Even when you meet your future wife and fall in love—”
Darien snorted.
“—We’ll still be best friends,” I finished. “I’ll always choose you over everyone else in my life. I swear.”
He chuckled. “Well, hell. We spit and pissed on it, so I guess it must be true.” He bumped his shoulder against mine. “Best friends for life,” he echoed.
And just like that, it was done.
Stamped in Sharpie.
Soaked in piss and spit.
Sealed in our own kind of forever.