Chapter 3
I woke up to sunlight streaming through my window and a knot of anxiety sitting heavy in my stomach.?
Today was Ryder’s birthday.
Tonight, we’d go to the cliffs like we did every year. Just the two of us, under the stars, like we’d been doing since we were kids. It was our tradition, our thing, and normally I’d be excited. Normally I’d wake up with butterflies in my stomach—the good kind.
But today, all I felt was nervous.
And hurt.
I rolled over and grabbed my phone from the nightstand, staring at the blank screen for a long moment before I finally typed out a message.
Happy birthday, Ryder. Hope it’s a good one.
I hit send before I could overthink it, then dropped the phone onto my comforter and stared at the ceiling.
Last night kept replaying in my mind. The way he’d looked at me in the car, his eyes dark and intense. The way he’d kissed my arm where that guy had grabbed me, so gentle and reverent it had made my heart race. The thick tension between us, so palpable I could barely breathe.
He’d wanted to kiss me. I was sure of it.
And then he’d just... pulled away. Dropped my arm like it burned him and couldn’t get me home fast enough.
My phone buzzed, and I snatched it up.
Thanks.
That was it. Just “thanks.”
I stared at the single word, feeling something crack in my chest. No emoji, no “see you tonight,” nothing. Just a cold, impersonal “thanks” like I was some acquaintance who’d sent him a generic birthday wish on social media.
I tossed my phone aside and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, willing myself not to cry.
It was fine. Everything was fine. Tonight would be normal, just like always. We’d roast marshmallows and look at the stars and talk about nothing and everything, and I’d forget about the way he’d looked at me last night. I’d forget about the almost-kiss that had left me aching.
I had to.
Because in a week, he’d be gone.
----
I spent the morning helping Mom clean the house, grateful for the distraction. She had me dusting the living room while she vacuumed, and then we moved to the kitchen, wiping down counters and organizing the pantry.
“You’re quiet today,” Mom said as we worked side by side, her tone gentle.
“Just thinking,” I said, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on the counter.
“About Ryder leaving?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
She was quiet for a moment, then reached over and squeezed my hand. “I know it’s hard, sweetie. But you two will be okay. You’ve been best friends for so long—a little distance won’t change that.”
I forced a smile. “I know.”
But what if it wasn’t just friendship anymore? What if I’d ruined everything by wanting more?
After lunch, I started gathering supplies for tonight. Sleeping bags, pillows, the tent, a cooler with drinks and snacks. I loaded everything into my car, my movements mechanical as I tried not to think too hard about what the night might bring.
By three o’clock, I was driving out to the cliffs, the familiar dirt road bumpy beneath my tires.
The cliffs were about twenty minutes outside of town, perched on a hill that overlooked the valley below.
It was beautiful up here—peaceful and private, with a view of the stars that was unmatched anywhere else.
It was our place. Mine and Ryder’s.
I parked in the small clearing and got to work setting up the tent. It was a two-person tent, big enough for both of us to sleep comfortably but small enough that we’d be close. My hands shook slightly as I hammered in the stakes, and I had to stop and take a deep breath.
Get it together, Emily.
Once the tent was up, I arranged our sleeping bags inside, fluffing the pillows and making sure everything looked perfect.
Then I set up the fire pit, stacking logs and kindling the way Ryder had taught me years ago.
I laid out a large blanket near the fire, the soft fleece one we always used for stargazing.
By the time I finished, the sun was starting to dip toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.
I stood there for a moment, looking out over the valley, and felt that familiar ache in my chest.
This was it. Our last birthday tradition before everything changed.
I drove back home, my mind a mess of emotions I didn’t know how to untangle.
----
Dinner with my family was a blur. Mom had made spaghetti, and I pushed the noodles around my plate, barely tasting anything. My brother kept trying to get my attention, asking me about some video game he wanted, but I could barely focus on what he was saying.
“Emily, are you feeling okay?” Dad asked, his brow furrowed with concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Just... thinking about tonight.”
Mom gave me a knowing look. “You and Ryder have fun, okay? And be safe.”
“We will.”
As soon as dinner was over, I excused myself and headed upstairs to change. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a soft hoodie, then grabbed my jacket. It would get cold up at the cliffs once the sun went down.
I checked my phone one more time, but there were no new messages from Ryder.
My stomach twisted.
It’s fine. Everything’s fine.
I drove back to the cliffs as the sky darkened, the first stars beginning to appear overhead. When I pulled into the clearing, Ryder’s Jeep wasn’t there yet.
I climbed out of my car and walked over to the fire pit, pulling out the lighter I’d brought and coaxing the kindling to life. The flames caught quickly, crackling and popping as they grew, casting flickering shadows across the clearing.
I sat down on the blanket and hugged my knees to my chest, staring into the fire.
He’d be here soon. And then... what?
Would we talk about last night? Would he pretend it never happened?
Would I?
The sound of an engine made me look up, and my heart jumped into my throat as Ryder’s Jeep pulled into the clearing. He parked next to my car and climbed out, and even in the dim light, I could see how good he looked.
He was wearing jeans that fit him perfectly and a dark fitted shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and muscular arms. His black hair was slightly messy, like he’d run his hands through it a few times, and when he walked toward me, the firelight caught his blue eyes, making them almost glow.
God, he was beautiful.
I stood up, my heart pounding, and forced a big smile onto my face. “Hey, birthday boy.”
He smiled back, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hey, Em.”
I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around him in a hug, breathing in his familiar scent—woodsy and clean, with a hint of something wild I could never quite place. He hugged me back, his arms strong and warm around me, and for a moment, everything felt okay.
But then he pulled away, and the distance between us felt like a chasm.
“How was family dinner?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light as we walked back to the fire.
“Ehh, fine,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Any juicy drama?” I teased, sitting down on the blanket and patting the spot next to me.
He sat down, close but not as close as he usually did, and shook his head. “Nope. Just the usual.”
“Okay...” I said, drawing out the word.
An awkward silence settled between us, and I hated it. We never had awkward silences. We could talk for hours about nothing, or sit in comfortable quiet, but this—this tension—was new and unwelcome.
I grabbed the bag of marshmallows and the skewers I’d brought, desperate for something to do with my hands. “Want to make s’mores?”
“Sure.”
We roasted marshmallows in silence, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the distant chirping of crickets. I watched my marshmallow turn golden brown, then pulled it from the flames and sandwiched it between two graham crackers with a piece of chocolate.
Ryder did the same, and we ate our s’mores without speaking.
It was torture.
When we finished, I wiped my sticky fingers on a napkin and lay back on the blanket, staring up at the sky. The stars were out in full force now, thousands of them scattered across the inky blackness like diamonds.
Ryder lay down next to me, his hands folded on his stomach, his eyes fixed on the sky.
I tried to focus on the stars, tried to lose myself in their beauty like I always did, but all I could think about was him. The warmth of his body next to mine, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the way his profile looked in the firelight.
My heart was racing, my palms sweaty despite the cool night air.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t just lie here and pretend everything was normal when it wasn’t.
Slowly, I rolled onto my side, propping myself up on my elbow so I was facing him. He didn’t move, didn’t look at me, just kept staring at the sky.
I reached out, my hand trembling slightly, and brushed a strand of hair off his forehead.
His breath hitched, and his eyes finally met mine.
God, those eyes. So blue, so intense, like they could see straight through me.
We stared at each other, the air between us thick with everything we weren’t saying. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.
And then, before I could lose my nerve, I leaned down and kissed him.
For a split second, he froze, and panic shot through me. But then he was kissing me back, his hand coming up to cup the back of my head, his lips moving against mine with a hunger that stole my breath.
It was everything I’d imagined and more. His lips were soft but demanding, and the way he kissed me—like he’d been starving for it, like he couldn’t get enough—made my entire body light up.
I gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made my toes curl.
And then he was rolling us over, his body covering mine, his weight pressing me into the blanket. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair, and he groaned—a low, rough sound that sent heat pooling in my belly.
His hips pressed against mine, and I could feel him, hard and insistent, and it made me dizzy with want. I arched up against him, and he groaned again, his hands gripping my waist as he ground against me.
“Em,” he breathed against my lips, his voice rough and strained.
I pulled him closer, kissing him harder, and he responded in kind, his mouth moving to my jaw, then down to my neck. He kissed and sucked at the sensitive skin there, and I gasped, my hands tightening in his hair.
And then his mouth found that spot—the place where my neck met my shoulder—and he licked it, slow and deliberate.
A shiver ran down my spine, so intense it was almost painful, and I moaned, my body trembling beneath his.
“Shit,” he muttered, and then he was pulling back, his hands braced on either side of my head as he stared down at me.
His eyes were wild, his breathing ragged, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me again.
But then he sat back on his heels, running a hand through his hair, and said, “Shit, Em, we can’t do this.”
The words hit me like a bucket of cold water.
“Why not?” I asked, my voice small.
He looked away, his jaw tight. “You’re my best friend, Em.”
Embarrassment flooded through me, hot and sharp. “Oh,” I said, sitting up and wrapping my arms around myself. “I thought maybe you felt more towards me.”
“Trust me, I feel more,” he said, his voice rough. “But this isn’t a good idea. Not right now.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, my throat tight.
He finally looked at me, and the pain in his eyes made my chest ache. “I’m leaving, Em. We can’t start anything right now.”
The words were like a knife to the heart.
“Okay,” I said quietly, looking down at my hands. “I understand.”
“No, you don’t,” he said, his voice softer now. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”
I wanted to scream at him that he was already hurting me, that pushing me away hurt more than anything, but I couldn’t find the words.
“Let’s just pretend that didn’t happen and go back to stargazing,” he said, lying back down on the blanket.
I nodded, even though everything in me was screaming that I didn’t want to pretend. I didn’t want to go back to the way things were.
But I lay down next to him anyway, staring up at the stars through the blur of unshed tears.
He could just forget about our kiss. He could just turn it off, like flipping a switch.
And I had to lie here next to him, pretending my heart wasn’t breaking.
The rest of the night passed in a haze. We talked about safe things—his classes, my plans for junior year, the new movie coming out next month. We laughed at the right moments, made the appropriate comments, and to anyone watching, we probably looked normal.
But inside, I was dying.
Every time he smiled at me, every time his hand brushed mine, it was a reminder of what I couldn’t have. Of what he didn’t want.
When the fire finally died down and we crawled into the tent, I lay in my sleeping bag with my back to him, staring at the fabric wall and willing myself not to cry.
“Night, Em,” he said softly.
“Night,” I whispered back.
I didn’t sleep.
----
The rest of the week was more of the same. Ryder acted like nothing had happened, like we hadn’t kissed, like he hadn’t held me and touched me and made me feel things I’d never felt before.
And I played along, because what else could I do?
We hung out every day, just like always. We went to the diner, watched movies at his house, drove around town with the windows down and the music loud. He smiled and joked and was the same Ryder he’d always been.
But every time I looked at him, all I could think about was the way he’d kissed me. The way he’d pulled away.
The way he could just pretend it never happened.
And then, before I knew it, it was the day he was leaving.
He showed up at my house in the late morning, his Jeep packed with boxes and suitcases. I walked outside when I heard him pull up, my heart in my throat.
He climbed out and walked over to me, his hands shoved in his pockets, and for a moment, we just stood there, staring at each other.
“So,” he said finally. “This is it.”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
He pulled me into a hug, and I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his chest. He smelled like home, like safety, like everything I was about to lose.
“I’m going to miss you, Em,” he said, his voice rough.
“I’m going to miss you too,” I said, my throat tight.
He pulled back and looked down at me, his blue eyes searching mine. For a moment, I thought he was going to say something—something important, something that would make this hurt less.
But he just gave me a sad smile and said, “I’ll see you at Christmas, okay?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
He squeezed my shoulder, then turned and walked back to his Jeep.
I stood there in my driveway, watching as he climbed in and started the engine. He gave me one last wave, and then he was pulling out, driving down the street, his taillights disappearing around the corner.
And just like that, he was gone.
I stood there for a long time, staring at the empty street, feeling like someone had reached into my chest and ripped out my heart.
He was gone.
And I didn’t know if we’d ever be the same again.