Winnie
The place that started it all.
Just like two years ago, my feet brush the dirt underneath the swing as I push myself back and forth slowly. I’ve been waiting over an hour, my nerves building with every passing minute. The sun has set, and now the moon is offering the only bit of light that illuminates the park at this hour. A few clouds have gathered, but I don’t pay them any attention.
My mind is somewhere else, impatiently waiting for Beck to show up.
He’ll be here .
Checking my phone every thirty seconds while telling myself to stop acting so crazy. Refusing to look back at the park entrance because that won’t make him magically appear. Giving in because I’m weak. Disappointing myself repeatedly when he isn’t standing there. I’ve repeated this cycle for over an hour, and I’m just about to call it and head back home to my new book— thank you, Edith —when a voice cuts through the silence and startles me.
“Shit…” Beck looks down at his feet, arms spread wide when I spin around. He meets my wide eyes as I stand up, and the sheepish closed-mouth smile he shoots me is adorable. “Almost fell.”
Swallowing, I step away from the swing. I stop almost immediately. “Are you okay?”
Beck waves me off and continues over to where I’m standing once he’s confident in his equilibrium again. “I’m fine… That’s what I get for thinking I could be James Bond knowing damn well I’m more of a Kronk, ya know?”
“I don’t know…” I trail off, a small smile on my lips as I gaze at him. “You could be Bond, I think.”
He collapses on the swing beside mine and looks up at me. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. ”
Grabbing the metal chains of the swing, I plop back down and resume my slow back and forth, but Beck pushes off the ground hard. He moves quick and fast several times, his legs pumping fluidly, before jumping out of the seat. He lands on his feet with a wide grin on his full lips with those dimples on his cheeks.
Déjà vu.
I lick my lips and pick at the hem of my cotton shorts. “How many places did you check before you came here?”
Beck hums and closes the distance between us in a few slow strides. He places his hands above mine on the chains and leans down a foot from my face with a lopsided grin.
I have to physically keep my hands from leaving the chains to touch the dimples in his cheeks.
This isn’t the first time today that I’ve been this close to Beck, and my fingers tighten around the chains as I peer up at him with wide eyes. I can see just how blue his eyes are. Like sapphires.
I’m not sure what possessed me to enter that bathroom knowing he was on the other side of the door. I’m not sure why I moved so close to him, let my face hover inches in front of his, touched my shoes to the tips of his boots. I don’t know why I did any of it truthfully. Now my heart is beating so fast I’m worried for my health. All because Beck gave me a small piece of himself, whether he realized it or not.
A small chunk of the man that’s occupied too much space in my heart for too long, and that small moment of vulnerability seemingly drove me insane. Knowing there’s parts of him that are undiscovered despite the years I’ve watched him.
Beckett Hale seems like every man on the cover of one of my favorite books. The man in the stories that’s utterly obsessed with his girl. The men that would move mountains for her. The men that would kill and ultimately die for her. I try not to think too hard about the potential behind Beck feeling that way for me.
That would be crazy.
He whispers into the space between us, “Worried I wouldn’t show up, ?”
My tongue feels thick in my mouth, and I take a couple of tries before my mouth actually opens and a singular word tumbles out. “Yes.”
I surprise myself at the outburst of honesty. It’s only with Beck that he seems to create a space that feels safe to just be . He’s the only person I’ve considered telling about the letters taunting me in my desk drawer. He’s the only one who has any clue just how bad my parents are. He’s the only one who can rile me up by just existing, and I’ve barely scratched the surface on what it is to truly know Beckett Hale.
It’s never occurred to me he could be anything other than all the things I’ve built him up to be in my head.
There’s no sane, logical reason I should consider him to be a confidant or a beacon of safety.
Beck spends a full minute letting his eyes roam over my face before he pushes away and rounds the swing. He grabs the chains below my hands again and pulls me back. He pauses when my back presses against his chest and asks, “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”
Another pause.
Then he releases me.
I sail forward and extend my legs. My eyes close of their own accord, head tilting back, and I inhale deeply. I can’t focus on anything besides the breeze ruffling my hair, skimming over my skin, and under my clothes.
This is as close as I imagine I’ll get to flying.
It’s only when his hands close around the chains again, jerking me to a halt with my back against his chest once more, that I open my eyes and turn my face toward his. He’s right there. So close we’re breathing the same air. So close I could count his eyelashes that seem so unfair of him to have.
“?” His voice is so soft and raspy. Like if he’s too loud, he’ll shatter the moment.
My voice cracks as I finally speak, and it’s not the sultry, desirable rambling I expected to fall out. No, it’s sad and depressing. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Beck doesn’t bat an eye, though. His eyes flit around my face again, brows pulling down in confusion. Our gazes lock once more, and he asks, “Right now? Or in general?”
“Both.”
“Who says you need to know what you’re doing? Half the time I’m just winging it, . Right now and in general.”
“You have goals, though.” I swallow, turning my head away, and Beck releases me. The swing travels back and forth twice before he stops it again. This time I don’t turn my face. “I don’t know what my purpose is, Beck.”
He sighs. “You equate purpose with achievable goals, . Sometimes our purpose is simply existing and being happy.”
Warm fingers tuck underneath my chin, and I don’t fight him as he turns my face towards his own. He’s staring at me like he really wants me to understand what he’s saying.
“If you aren’t happy, what’s the point?”
“Are you happy, Beck?”
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, mulling over his answer carefully. I almost think he might ignore the question, but then he leans in closer to me and trails the tip of his nose over the shell of my ear, inhaling softly.
As he backs away, he simply says, “Yes.”
He doesn’t stop me this time.
Sometime later, when we’re walking back home and the back of his hand is brushing against mine, I finally find the courage to confess the one thing I’ve been too cowardly to truly acknowledge.
“I was rejected from every college I applied for.”
The truth falls out of me, and Beck stops walking, his body turning to give me his full attention.
“What?”
I inhale and exhale slowly. When I look up, his face is carefully blank, and I’m grateful for it. “Every college I applied for? Well, the four ivy league schools my parents wanted me to apply for… I was rejected.”
Beck’s brow furrows, and he scratches his eyebrow. “You only applied to those four schools?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “My parents want me to go to an ivy league school.”
Beck runs a hand through his hair and blows out a frustrated breath. “Yeah, but what do you want, ?”
What do I want?
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t think your future should be up to you?” He asks, eyes pleading with mine. “You don’t think that you should be in charge of the way your life plays out?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I feel quick to justify the way I’ve blindly done whatever my parents asked, but I can’t find the right words. Lamely, I reply, “Of course, I do.”
“Do you?” Beck asks again, like he doesn’t believe me.
“I…” Tears gather in the corners of my eyes, stinging as I try to force them back, but it’s useless. “This is what I mean, Beck. You have it figured out. You know what you want, and I?—”
“,” he cuts me off, grabbing my shoulders gently as my words get choppier and tears flow freely down my cheeks. “Shhh. Just breathe, baby.”
He pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me, holding me close, and I’m too caught up in wallowing and self-pity to stop myself from burying my face in his shoulder as I cry. He rubs a hand up and down my back, his arms tight and cocooning as he gives me a safe space to let all of this emotion out.
He doesn’t talk to me.
He doesn’t offer advice.
He just tells me it’s all going to be okay, and I think that’s all I needed to hear. I just need the reassurance that everything is going to be okay. It will be okay if I don’t go to college. It will be okay if I stay in Magnolia Hollow. It will be okay if I don’t have it all figured out right now.
It will be okay.
Eventually, I stop crying and apologize for leaving a huge wet spot on Beck’s t-shirt. He doesn’t seem to mind and steers me down the street with an arm around my shoulders and to my front door.
Opening the door, I tuck my hair behind my ear, feeling bashful all of a sudden. “Thank you for…that.”
“You don’t have to thank me. This is friendship, ,” he tells me. It simultaneously feels like the best and worst thing he could’ve said.
“Right.”
Beck tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looks toward his house. The porch light is on, but the rest of the house is dark and quiet.
He clears his throat, eyes softening on me. “Meet me at the swings tomorrow night?”
I don’t think twice before I nod.
The lines have blurred between us.
Or at least they have on my end.
I spend the rest of the summer working at Sugar and avoiding the rejection letters burning a hole through my desk drawer. I know I’ll need to deal with them soon, but for now, I want to live in blissful ignorance.
I ignore my parents’ inquiries about my move-in dates, which is pretty easy when they’re hardly ever around. I ignore Sienna’s texts about dorm decor and college prep. I ignore Mrs. Betty and Tootsie’s nosy questions about my new friendship with Beck and my future as I pass by their bench on the square. I ignore Gwen’s curious looks every time I change the subject away from my excitement for the end of summer.
I should be excited. Instead, I’m terrified.
Avoidance has become my default in the meantime.
Sugar is awesome though, aside from Gwen’s occasional despairing about my impending departure that she doesn’t realize isn’t actually happening yet. I love working with her. I’m happiest when I’m helping her in the kitchen, and she tells me often just how much my baking skills are improving.
A sense of pride always fills me with her praise.
It feels even better when I tell Beck, and he hugs me tightly, beams at me, tells me how great it is that I’ve found something that brings me true joy .
I’ve realized how important that is to him. My happiness. I’m trying not to read into that.
I finally saved Beck’s number in my phone. He frowned adorably when he realized I didn’t text or call him because I deleted his number.
That day feels like a lifetime ago. Not the beginning of summer.
We’ve spent almost every night at the park. Swinging, basking in the damp breeze, and learning everything there is to know about each other.
It starts simple.
When Beck asks what my favorite color is, I tell him orange. (He tells me his favorite color is green.) When I ask him about his favorite food, he says rice and laughs when I scrunch up my nose. (I tell him my favorite food is spaghetti.) When he asks what’s number one on my bucket list, I shyly admit it’s having a family. (He tells me his number one thing is visiting Europe with no financial help.) When I ask him about his favorite holiday, he shrugs and says he doesn’t have a favorite. (I pretend to leave after that, and he chases after me. On the walk home, I tell him my favorite is Christmas.)
Then it becomes so much more complex.
Words about all of my biggest fears and most unattainable daydreams spill from my mouth without preamble, and Beck listens to all of it, face scrunched adorably in concentration. I can’t help but wonder if he’s trying his damnedest to soak up everything he can before the summer ends like I am, or if that’s my head leading me astray.
Regardless, I hang on every word that Beck offers, voice low and soothing as we sit side by side. I memorize all of the nuances in his speech, the punctuation, the syllables and how his tongue forms them. My heart trips over itself to commit every hidden secret Beckett Hale decides to tell me during the summer to memory.
It marks the first time in my eighteen years I haven’t felt utterly alone in Magnolia Hollow.
Nothing else ever happens between us though.
We talk and text and video call all summer. Heck, he introduces me to his family. I eat dinner at his house at least once a week.
He never gets too close to me again, though, and it has driven me insane all summer.
Beck made me a small strawberry cake to celebrate my birthday with a single gold candle on top. I cried when he sang a happy belated birthday softly to me, those dimples in his cheeks distracting me from the fact that our time was dwindling. He’d brushed his thumb underneath my eyes, collected my tears on his finger, and told me that I’d never celebrate another birthday by myself.
We sit beside each other at family dinners every Sunday with the Fletchers where nine times out of ten I catch Cole trying to figure us out from across the table. We tease each other over the counter at Sugar, and when he tries to sweet talk Gwen into giving him a free cupcake, she always rolls her eyes and gives him a deformed cake .
We’ve become best friends. I say that genuinely. Beckett Hale has become a person I confide in. Someone I lean on. Someone who finds a positive in every negative I throw his way.
Just when he makes me feel like maybe this solitude isn’t so bad he’s gone. In the middle of the night.
I’m waiting for him to waltz into Sugar one morning near the end of summer when my phone buzzes and a picture I inconspicuously snapped of Beck swinging one night pops up on the screen.
My smile widens as I slide the button and answer, “Hey there.”
“Why do you sound so happy?”
I can hear the exhaustion in his voice, and I bite my lip as my smile threatens levels of cheesy and cringe that I don’t want Gwen to see. “I’m always happy.”
Beck scoffs, “That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one. You frown more than you smile, I’ve realized.”
I gasp. “That’s not true.” It’s kind of true.
“You’re right,” he agrees quickly. “You always smile around me.”
“I guess you make me happy then,” I say softly, blushing at the confession.
Beck sighs, like the idea that he makes me smile burdens him. “Don’t hate me, okay?”
My smile fades. “Don’t give me a reason to hate you then, Beck.”
“We had to leave early this morning,” he explains slowly. “Coach called, and there’s someone from the big leagues coming tomorrow. The first flight was at four this morning.”
I inhale deeply and lean my hip against the counter. “Oh…”
I can hear him swallow. Can tell by his tone that he isn’t thrilled to be telling me goodbye over the phone, and that alone gives me a sense of comfort. That maybe he’s as disappointed to leave as I am that he’s gone.
“I’m sorry. I called as soon as I could. It’s been kind of crazy and hectic all morning.”
My head is nodding even though I know he can’t see me. I have to push the words past my lips even though they sound forced and contrived. “It’s okay. I…I’m upset. I’ll be honest, but I understand.”
“I feel like shit for not calling sooner.”
“ Beck ,” I draw out. A sad smile crosses my lips as I look toward the double doors of Sugar, realizing he wouldn’t be pushing through them with wild hair and grin so beautiful it hurts. “It’s okay. You were leaving soon anyway, right?”
He inhales, the sound harsher than I believed he meant it through the speaker. “Right?—”
A shout rips through the speaker in the background, laughter flooding the speaker as Beck groans and scolds the group. A door slams shut, and I chew on my thumbnail as I stay silent through it all.
My mind whirls, and my stomach turns uncomfortably.
This summer has fooled me into thinking Beck and I could’ve been something after these past couple of months. Friends? Sure. More than that? I don’t know, but I was stupidly hopeful.
In all this time that I’ve mastered avoidance, I’ve been avoiding what was right in front of me.
Summer ends.
Beck leaves Magnolia Hollow.
But I stay here, propped against this sticky counter, wishing summer could last forever.