Nine Years Ago
Cam
As soon as he’s not looking, I launch myself from the side of the pool and dunk Rafe under the water. He goes down easily, making me think he knew what was coming, but he emerges spluttering anyway.
“You’re going to drown me one of these days,” he says once he’s caught his breath.
“If that happens, do you think your mom will give me your share of her brownie slice? Or none at all because of, you know, the murder?”
Rafe laughs, and my gaze follows a bead of water that trails over his jaw and down his neck. “Some days I think she’d rather have you for a son anyway.”
His words make me clench my jaw. Even going to a different high school this year hasn’t stopped the constant comparisons. I hate it. It makes me want to fail everything on purpose so Rafe doesn’t have to listen to them anymore.
Where our parents view it all as friendly competition, they don’t see what I do. The way Rafe’s dark eyes dim, the self-doubt that crosses his expression.
I splash him. “Your mom hates me.”
He denies it, of course, but she doesn’t find me as endearing as everyone else. I think she’s secretly hoping Rafe will find a new best friend, and with how little I’ve seen of him lately, I wouldn’t be surprised if he already has.
I tread water a little away from him, hit with the strangest need to get him to reassure me we’re still best friends. That it will never change. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come today,” I say. “You haven’t messaged me all week.”
“You haven’t messaged me either.”
I frown because he’s right, but it wasn’t because I didn’t want to. For some reason, I needed him to reach out first. “Obviously I was right.”
“About?”
“You making new friends. You don’t have time for me anymore.”
He shrugs. “Mom’s been organizing a lot with the Everetts. Tanner’s cool, but it’s like if Royce isn’t there with us, he’s talking about Royce or whining about going and seeing Royce. It’s weird.”
“They’re best friends. That’s how you’re supposed to talk about me.” I put on a high-pitched voice. “‘Campbell Taylor is the coolest guy I’ve ever met. I wish I could be more like Campbell. I want to lick Campbell’s shoes.’”
He laughs like I knew he would, but he still doesn’t say he misses me. I try to ignore that little seed of hurt that’s burrowing into my chest. Spending so much time away from Rafe this year makes me sad. I feel like I’ve been replaced. Rejected, almost.
And as he blinks at me through water-clumped eyelashes, hair slick to his forehead, that hurt begins to form into something else. Something softer and scarier that I’m starting to suspect is more than “best friends” stuff.
It sends panicky vibrations through me.
“Race you to the other side,” I say. Then I push off the wall before he has time to answer.
As we swim and goof off, thankfully the weird funk that passed over me lessens, and we enjoy the afternoon. I don’t need to worry about him rejecting me, not when we sync up together as good as we do, even with time apart.
No matter how many new friends I make, there’ll never be another Rafe.
Which is good, because I don’t want another one.
Just him.
The boy with the big eyes and short nails, whose growth spurt has made him look all lanky and out of proportion.
The boy I like to tease and compete with.
The boy I miss.
Every single day.