Love You More

Chapter 6

No matter how hard I tried, Mick’s voice stayed in my head. His words played on a loop until I felt like I was betraying Paul. Every time he reached for my hand, my chest felt hollow, like I was pretending. I knew I had to end things.

One Friday after school, we walked to the parking lot together. It finally felt like spring, the late April air carrying the earthy scent of thawing soil.

My stomach turning, I asked if we could go somewhere and talk.

He stopped, looked at me, and leaned against his car. “Let’s talk here,” he said.

Sadness clouded his eyes, like he knew what was coming.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to say the words I’d been dreading. “I think we should break up.”

“Why?” he whispered.

“It’s just…it feels inevitable…once we go off to college…I thought it might be easier to do it now.”

He looked at me, like he already knew there was more to the story.

“Is this about Mick?” he asked quietly.

“Why would you ask that?”

He swallowed so hard I could see the lump in his throat. “You’ve been different—ever since he and Kristy broke up.”

I looked down at my scuffed boots, searching for a way out. “It’s mostly just about me,” I said, finally meeting his eyes.

It wasn’t a denial.

There was a long silence before he nodded and slipped off the woven bracelet I’d made him months ago, handing it back to me. I stared down at it, remembering how carefully I’d braided the string, how proud I’d been when he tied it on. I took it and slipped it into my back pocket.

We hugged—awkward at first, then tighter.

He finally pulled back, giving me one last look before getting in his car. As I watched him drive off the lot, my heart filled with guilt and relief.

—

I drove straight to Erin’s, telling her everything, words and tears spilling out of me.

“I feel like a terrible person.” My voice cracked.

“You aren’t a terrible person,” she said firmly, giving me a long hug. Her sweater smelled of fabric softener, and I clung to her as if she were a life raft. As we separated, she brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. “You did the right thing. The only thing.”

“But Paul was so good to me.”

“Billie, you can’t stay with someone just because they’re good to you. You have to be true to your heart.”

I nodded, wiping my face on my sleeve, the ache in my chest a little less sharp. “Now what?”

Erin exhaled slowly. “Now you take a beat. Grieve the breakup. And when you’re ready…” A sly smile tugged at her lips. “You call Mick.”

My heart stuttered in my chest, half fear, half longing.

I could only nod.

—

After a couple weeks of avoiding both Mick and Paul, I decided it was time. I picked up my phone and dialed Mick’s number. Maeve answered. It had been a long time since I’d heard her voice, and it felt like confirmation that I was doing the right thing.

“Hi, Maeve,” I said. “It’s Billie.”

“Billie!” she shouted. “Are you at the candy store?”

I laughed. “No. I’m at my house. I wanted to talk to your brother. Is he there?”

She said yes, then screamed “Mickey” at the top of her lungs.

A few seconds later, he came on the line.

His hello sent a shiver straight through me.

“Hi,” I said, then blurted it out before I lost my nerve. “Can we meet up and talk?”

“Sure. When?” he asked, his voice edged with the same nerves I felt.

“Does this evening work? Around five?”

“Yeah. Where should we meet?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere private.”

He suggested the parking lot of his family’s orchard. Behind the barn.

“Perfect,” I said. “See you then.”

—

When I pulled up at the end of the long gravel driveway, I spotted Mick’s truck. He was sitting on the tailgate, his baseball cap slung low. The sight of him there—waiting for me—made my pulse jump.

As I climbed out of my car, the syrupy scent of May apple blossoms rushed over me. I walked toward his truck, my heart thudding harder with every step.

“Hey,” he said when I got close.

“Hey,” I echoed, my gaze drifting to the trees, their petals glowing faintly in the dusky light.

He patted the tailgate beside him, and I climbed up, the steel cool against the backs of my thighs.

We settled into the moment before he spoke.

“So. I decided. I’m going to Madison.” He said it carefully, like he’d practiced it.

“That’s awesome. I’m glad to hear it.”

“Yeah. Even my dad thinks it’s a good idea. Like you said once, as a backup plan.” He tilted his cap, smirking. “Do I get bonus points for deciding to go to Madison without you?”

I smiled. “Yes. Definitely.”

We sat in a moment of silence before I blurted it out. “Paul and I broke up.”

“Really?” His eyes locked on mine.

I nodded.

“Why?”

“I think you know.”

His eyes undid me—intense and searching.

“You feel it, too?” he whispered.

“Yes,” I whispered back.

The air seemed to shift. Thicker and sweeter.

He leaned in. I mirrored him, heart hammering. I closed my eyes, his breath on my face.

Finally, his top lip grazed mine—a spark that set everything alight. His hand slid to the side of my face, clumsy and urgent, and my fingers tangled in his T-shirt, pulling him closer. We kissed hungrily, mouths finding and missing and finding again. The world blurred.

When we finally pulled apart, I kept my forehead pressed against his. A sprinkler clicked on somewhere in the rows, flinging diamond droplets through the darkening air.

“Wow,” Mick whispered.

I tried to speak, but all that came out was a shudder.

—

For the next few weeks, Mick and I lived in bursts of adrenaline—stolen kisses in the orchard, aimless country drives with the windows down and the radio blaring.

Only Erin knew what was happening. When I told her, she’d clasped my hands, eyes wide with disbelief and delight.

Finally, she’d said. I swore her to secrecy, determined not to let Paul find out.

Keeping it from the rest of the world made it feel both impossible and electric, like we’d slipped into a parallel universe only three people knew about.

—

One Saturday afternoon, when my friends and I were all hanging out, the subject of prom came up.

Erin and Brett had just broken up, but they were still going together as friends.

“Has Mick asked you yet?” Erin said, turning to me.

I looked at her, startled.

Realizing she’d slipped, she quickly added, “I figured he might since you’re both single now.”

“True. But I don’t think he wants to go.” I hesitated. “I’m not sure if I’m going, either.”

Erin gave me a startled look. “It’s our senior prom, Billie. It’s, like, basic. You go to senior prom.”

“Yeah. Basic,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Okay, Yalie.” She laughed, but her eyes narrowed.

The words hovered in the warm air. Heat crawled up my neck. Sam studied his shoelaces. Lucy traced a pattern on her Solo cup. Even Erin’s smile wilted at the edges, like she knew she’d gone too far.

She reached for my wrist, giving it a little squeeze. “Hey. I didn’t mean it like that.”

I tugged at a loose thread on my cuff, while my friends’ conversation rerouted itself, their voices bobbing in and out like background noise.

I was the first to leave.

Erin got up and hugged me goodbye, lingering just long enough to let me know we were okay. Still, the space between us felt newly complicated.

—

Later, at the orchard, I told Mick about the prom exchange. We sat on his tailgate, the air warm and buzzing with crickets.

“Erin thinks I should go to prom,” I said. “But I don’t want to.”

“Me neither,” he said. “Can you imagine? Kristy and her friends glaring at us all night?”

“Exactly. Plus, my guess is that Paul will be there. It would just feel…cruel.”

“Yeah.” Mick nodded. “You’re right.”

“So we’re on the same page?”

“Definitely.” He reached for my hand, our fingers laced in the dark. “We don’t need that stuff.”

In that moment, I realized that we’d already stepped past the high school version of love into something else entirely.

—

On the night of prom, Mick and I met up in our usual spot at the orchard.

The May air was soft and unseasonably warm.

We spread out a patchwork of blankets next to his truck.

I’d packed us a picnic, and Mick brought a six-pack of Miller Lite.

As we watched the sunset, we ate, sipped beer, and talked.

At one point, Mick looked at me and said, “So. Why don’t you ever talk about Yale?”

My body tensed, the ever-ticking clock loud in my head.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Sometimes I think I should go to Madison.”

“Why do you say that?”

I hesitated. “To save my parents money, for one.”

He nodded.

“I’m also worried that Yale will be too hard for me,” I said.

I could memorize molecules and recite hormones and pathways, but the thought of being in college with prep school kids in cardigans made me want to crawl into myself.

“Yale is not too hard for you. You’re the smartest person I know.”

“I know I’m Arrowhead smart. But that doesn’t make me Yale smart.”

He shook his head, quick and certain. “That’s just you doubting yourself. You can’t listen to that voice.”

I studied his face as he rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his hand. “I believe in you, Billie. I’d bet on you every single time.”

The words landed with a strange force, not just comfort but recognition—like he could see the part of me I worked so hard to hide. The messy, ambitious part that wanted more than Wisconsin, more than the safe choice.

“Thank you, Mick,” I said. “That means a lot.”

I stared into his eyes, then confessed the rest. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“I don’t want you to, either. But I can’t be the reason you don’t go to Yale.”

I let out a long sigh.

“And anyway—if we’re meant to be together, the distance won’t matter,” he said.

My heart fluttered at the mention of a future together. Words that had lived in me for years came to the surface.

“I love you, Mick,” I said.

“I love you more,” he whispered.

“Not possible. I wish you could be inside my head. Then you’d know—”

“I wish I could be inside you everywhere,” Mick said, smiling.

I smiled back, but my body flushed hot. “Me too,” I said.

“We said we’d wait.” His eyes searched mine.

“I don’t want to wait.”

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

“Very sure.”

Clothes slipped away, skin meeting skin. He kissed me, the taste of beer still on his lips, the scratch of his jaw against my cheek—every detail branded itself into me.

At one point, he fumbled for a condom in his wallet. I helped him put it on before we kissed again.

When he finally eased inside, I winced. He brushed my hair back from my face, searching me.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Yes,” I breathed. “Don’t stop.”

He moved slowly, his breath turning ragged.

I matched him, counting heartbeats, anything to stay calm.

It hurt at first, but the pain thinned to warmth.

Our bodies found a rhythm before he finally shuddered against me, then stilled.

It wasn’t fireworks—it was something quieter, deeper.

A surrender. His body pressed to mine, his heartbeat against my ribs, until I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.

“I’m sorry I didn’t last longer,” he whispered. “You felt too good.”

“It was perfect.”

“Next time will be better.”

My heart raced thinking about it. I hoped there would always be a next time.

I curled against him, fireflies blinking around us.

And somewhere in that moment, my decision arrived—quiet but absolute.

“I’m going to Madison with you,” I whispered.

“Billie. No. You can’t do that.”

His resistance only made me more certain.

“Yes, I can. And I’m going to. So please don’t fight me on it.”

He paused, then whispered into my ear, “Okay. I won’t.”

He held me for a long time after that. When I finally met his gaze, he was smiling.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“I’m thinking that you’re about to be my college girlfriend.”

—

That weekend, Erin and I sat on the dock at Pewaukee Lake. The clouds drifted lazily across a bright blue sky. We sat in easy silence, listening to the lap of water against the pilings until I finally spoke.

“So I have some news,” I said, a shy smile tugging at my mouth.

She spun around to face me, legs crossed. “Oh my God! Did you and Mick do it?”

Her voice ricocheted across the lake.

I shushed her, then nodded, giggling.

“Tell me everything,” she demanded.

For a second, I felt self-conscious, but then I let the words spill out. I told her it was awkward and painful but beautiful, too. I told her how close I felt to him now—and that we’d both said “I love you.”

“Wilhelmina lost her virginity!” she said. “Who would have thought you’d do it before me?”

“Not me,” I said with a laugh. “That’s for sure.”

“Wow. This is the ultimate love story. A friggin’ fairy tale.”

“It really does feel that way,” I said.

She let out a long, dreamy sigh, and we lay back on the dock, the sun warm on our faces, the moment already turning into a memory.