Chapter 2
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, turning slightly to the left, then to the right.
The sundress was simple—light blue with tiny white flowers, hitting just above my knees.
Not too dressy, not too casual. I’d paired it with my favorite white sneakers because heels at a field party were just asking for a twisted ankle, and I’d left my hair down in loose waves. ?
I looked...good. Not like I was trying too hard, but good enough that maybe Ryder would notice.
God, when had I started caring so much about whether Ryder noticed me?
I knew exactly when. It had been gradual at first, so subtle I hadn’t even realized it was happening. But somewhere between freshman year and now, my feelings for my best friend had shifted into something that made my stomach flip and my heart race whenever he was near.
Ryder was leaving for college in a week. One week. Seven days. And then he’d be gone until Christmas break, and I’d be here without him for the first time since I was eight years old.
The thought made my chest ache.
Tomorrow was his eighteenth birthday. Tonight was his party—the big blowout at the field that everyone had been talking about for weeks. Half the school would be there, including every girl who’d spent the last four years trying and failing to get Ryder’s attention.
Because Ryder didn’t date. He didn’t hook up at parties or flirt with the cheerleaders who threw themselves at him. He was always polite, always kind, but never interested.
He spent his time with me.
Which, of course, made me the target of more jealous glares and snide comments than I could count.
I’d learned to ignore it mostly, but sometimes it still stung.
Especially when girls like Brittany Chen or Madison Foster would make pointed remarks about how Ryder was “wasting his time” or how I was “keeping him from having a real relationship.”
As if what we had wasn’t real. As if the way he looked at me sometimes, with those impossibly blue eyes that seemed to see straight through me, didn’t make my entire body feel like it was on fire.
My phone buzzed on my dresser, and my heart jumped.
Ryder: Here.
Just one word, but it was enough to send butterflies exploding in my stomach.
I grabbed my white cardigan from the back of my desk chair—the nights were getting cooler now that it was late august—and took one last look in the mirror. My cheeks were already flushed, my eyes bright with anticipation.
This was fine. This was normal. Just another night with Ryder.
Except it wasn’t, because in a week he’d be gone, and I didn’t know how I was going to survive without him.
I headed downstairs, my sneakers quiet on the hardwood steps. Mom was in the kitchen, putting away the last of the dinner dishes, and she looked up when she heard me.
Her face softened into a smile. “Oh, honey. You look beautiful.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I felt my cheeks heat even more.
“Big party tonight?” She dried her hands on a dish towel, her expression knowing.
“Yeah. For Ryder’s birthday.”
“Ah.” She nodded slowly. “And how are you feeling about him leaving next week?”
I shrugged, trying to play it off like my heart wasn’t breaking. “It’s fine. He’ll be back for Christmas.”
Mom gave me a look that said she saw right through me, but she didn’t push. “Well, have fun tonight. Be safe. Text me if you need anything.”
“I will.” I kissed her cheek and headed for the door.
The evening air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of pine and the faint hint of woodsmoke from someone’s fireplace. Our house was on the edge of town, backing up to the woods where I’d gotten lost all those years ago. Where Ryder had found me.
His black Jeep was parked in our driveway, and my breath caught when I saw him.
He was leaning against the driver’s side door, one ankle crossed over the other, looking down at his phone.
He was wearing dark jeans and a gray henley that stretched across his broad shoulders and chest in a way that should be illegal.
His black hair was slightly messy, like he’d run his hands through it, and even from here I could see the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips.
God, when had Ryder gotten so hot?
I knew the answer to that too. It had been gradual, just like my feelings.
One day he’d been the cute boy who’d saved me in the woods, and then suddenly he was six feet tall with muscles that came from hours of training with his dad and a face that made every girl in school lose their ability to form coherent sentences.
As if sensing me—and he probably did, because Ryder always seemed to know when I was near—he looked up from his phone.
His eyes found mine, and I watched as they traveled slowly down my body and back up again. It wasn’t creepy or leering like when other guys checked me out. It was...appreciative. Hungry, almost. Like he was memorizing every detail.
My face burned, but I couldn’t look away.
When his gaze finally met mine again, I gave him my biggest smile, trying to ignore the way my heart was hammering against my ribs.
“Hey,” I said as I walked toward him.
“Hey.” His voice was deeper than it used to be, rough in a way that did things to my insides.
He pushed off the Jeep and opened the passenger door for me, like he always did. Such a small gesture, but it never failed to make me feel special.
I climbed in, and he closed the door gently before rounding the front of the vehicle. I watched him through the windshield, admiring the easy, confident way he moved. Everything about Ryder was graceful, controlled.
He slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, and then his hand found mine on the center console.
The tingles started immediately, spreading from where our palms touched up my arm and through my entire body.
It had been happening for years now, ever since I was twelve or thirteen.
At first it had freaked me out, but Ryder had explained that it was normal, and for whatever reason I never questioned him.
I didn’t think too much about it anymore. It was just part of being near Ryder. Part of what made being with him feel so right.
He laced our fingers together as he backed out of the driveway, and I settled into my seat, content just to be near him.
“Are you excited for your birthday dinner tomorrow?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
Ryder groaned. “No. You know how much I hate birthday dinners with my family.”
I laughed. I’d never actually been to one of his family birthday dinners—they were family only, some kind of tradition—but Ryder’s stories about them were legendary.
Apparently they were always full of drama, with various family members arguing, while Ryder was forced to sit at the head of the table and pretend to enjoy being the center of attention.
“You’ll survive,” I said, squeezing his hand. “And afterwards, you get to spend the night with me.”
His expression softened, and he glanced over at me. “Yeah. That’s what I keep telling myself.”
It was our tradition. Every year on Ryder’s birthday, after he suffered through the family dinner, he’d pick me up and we’d drive out to the cliffs overlooking the valley. We’d build a fire, roast marshmallows, talk for hours, and then sleep under the stars.
When we were younger, one of our parents had always come with us—usually his dad or my dad. But now that we were older, they trusted us to go alone.
Those nights were my favorite. Just me and Ryder, away from everyone else, with nothing but the stars and the fire and each other.
This year felt different though. More significant. Because it would be our last night together before he left for college, and I didn’t know when we’d get another chance to do this.
The thought made my throat tight.
“Em?” Ryder’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I forced a smile. “Just thinking.”
He squeezed my hand, and I knew he understood. He always understood.
The field was already packed when we arrived.
Cars lined the dirt road leading up to it, and I could hear the bass from the music thumping even before Ryder turned off the engine.
Someone had set up a massive bonfire in the center of the field, and people were scattered everywhere—dancing, drinking, talking in groups.
“Ready?” Ryder asked, but he didn’t let go of my hand.
“Ready.”
We walked into the party together, and I felt the eyes on us immediately. Whispers followed in our wake, and I caught more than one girl shooting daggers at me with her eyes.
I ignored them. I’d gotten good at that over the years.
Ryder kept me close, his hand never leaving mine. When people came up to wish him happy early birthday or congratulate him on getting into college, I stayed tucked against his side. When someone offered him a drink, he took it with his free hand, because the other one was still holding mine.
We weren’t dating. We’d never kissed, never done anything more than hold hands and hug and occasionally fall asleep curled up together on one of our couches during movie nights.
But everyone thought we were together. And honestly? Sometimes it felt like we were.
I’d had a few drinks—more than I probably should have—and I was feeling warm and loose and happy. The party was loud and chaotic, but I felt safe with Ryder’s arm around my waist, his body solid and warm against mine.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I said, leaning up to speak directly into his ear so he could hear me over the music.
He nodded and reluctantly let me go. “Don’t be long.”
“I won’t.”
The porta-potties were set up on the far edge of the field, away from the main party. I wrinkled my nose as I approached them—they were disgusting, but it was better than trying to find a private spot in the woods.
When I came back out, I scanned the crowd for Ryder’s familiar dark head. He was tall enough that I could usually spot him easily, but there were so many people...
“Hey there, beautiful.”
I turned to find a guy I vaguely recognized from school blocking my path. He was a senior, I thought. Played football. His name was... Derek? Derrick?
“Hi,” I said politely, trying to step around him.