37. All the things unsaid
ALL THE THINGS UNSAID
SENIOR YEAR
P reston hadn’t planned to drive over there, but they hadn’t talked, and they needed to talk… he needed to talk to clear the air.
She just needs her space . He told himself that twice – once when he pulled out of his driveway, and again when he turned down Spring’s street anyway.
The previous night still sat heavy on his chest, the way moments did when they cracked something open and then refused to explain themselves.
When he got to her house, he took a deep breath. A part of him wondered if it had been too soon. Maybe she wasn't ready.
He knocked on the door, nonetheless.
Her dad answered the door, surprised but polite, in that careful way adults did when they already knew what the visit might mean. “Oh… hey, Preston. Nairobi’s not here,” he said before Preston could ask. “Moved in with her cousin for a bit.”
The words landed harder than Preston expected. “Oh,” he said. Then, quieter, “Okay.”
Her dad hesitated, like he might say more, but didn’t.
Preston thanked him, stepped back, and sat in his car for a full minute before starting the engine again.
He didn’t have to think about where to go next.
Cameron’s house was already loud when he pulled up – music spilling through an open window.
Brian and Cameron were posted outside like they’d been there all afternoon. Brian leaned against the hood of his car, arms crossed, scowling. Cameron was pacing, talking with his hands like he always did when he was trying to hold two worlds together at once.
Brian saw Preston first. His mouth twisted into something like a smile, but there was no warmth in it. “What’s good?”
Preston nodded. “What’s up?”
Cameron stepped between them instinctively. “Alright, alright. Let’s not do this like that.”
Brian snorted. “Do what? I’m good. Really.” He clapped Preston on the shoulder – too hard to be friendly. “You got everything you wanted. I mean that. No jealousy over here.”
Preston didn’t rise to it. He just shrugged. “Ain’t nobody keeping score.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Brian said. “But then again, I’m a sidekick, so what do I know?”
Cameron shot Brian a look. “You done?”
Brian held up his hands. “Yeah. I am. I’m done with all of it.” He grabbed his keys. “Good luck with everything, man. For real.”
And then he was gone.
The silence that followed felt bigger than the yard.
Preston exhaled. “He’ll be a’ight.”
Cameron nodded, but his eyes were already elsewhere – on Preston, on the weight he was carrying, on the thing he hadn’t said yet. “You looking for Spring.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah, her dad said she’s here now,” Preston said. “I mean – she moved in.”
Cameron’s expression softened. “Yeah. She needed space.”
Preston was about to walk up the steps when Cameron put his hand on his chest. “She needed space from everything.”
Preston understood his words.
They sat on the steps. The music inside faded into background noise, replaced by cicadas and the low hum of late afternoon heat.
“You know,” Cameron said after a moment, “life is beautiful the way it all works.”
Preston glanced at him. “What you mean?”
“I mean, people think you do one thing wrong, or one thing right, and everything lines up after that.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“But most of the time? It’s just a bunch of half-choices stacked on top of each other, compounded over time.
” Preston stayed quiet. “You love her,” Cameron continued, matter-of-fact. “That part’s obvious.”
Preston didn’t deny it.
“But loving somebody don’t mean you get to decide the timing,” Cameron said. “Or the version of yourself you bring to them. Sometimes the best thing you can do is let them be where they are without trying to fix it.”
Preston sighed. “Feels like quitting.”
Cameron shook his head. “Nah. Quitting is pretending you don’t care. This?” He nodded toward Preston’s chest. “This is learning how to carry love without trying to control it.”
That landed.
Before Preston could respond, the screen door creaked.
Spring stepped out.
She looked different – not changed, just steadier. Like someone who’d cried and come out the other side quieter instead of louder. Her eyes found Preston immediately.
They didn’t smile. They didn’t look away either.
Cameron stood. “I’m gonna grab a drink,” he said, already moving. “Y’all good?”
Neither one of them said anything. They just looked at each other.
Cameron nodded. “Yeah, y’all good.” He patted his best friend on the shoulder and kissed his cousin on the cheek then headed inside. The door shut behind him.
Preston stood too, unsure of where to put his hands, his words, himself. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she replied. “I didn’t know you were coming,” she said.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” he answered honestly.
That almost made her smile. Almost.
They stood there in the thick air, everything between them unfinished, unresolved, but still very much alive.
And for the first time since Friday night, Preston understood something Cameron hadn’t even said out loud: some loves don’t break – they just wait.
She sat down on the top step, knees pulled in, phone resting face-down in her palm.
“I was on Instagram,” she said, not looking at him. “Everybody’s talking about Mack’s deal. Studio sessions. Summer tour. Opening for Chris Brown.”
Preston let out a breath through his nose, joining Spring on the stoop. “Yeah. He told me last night after the assembly. It’s… a major look… I guess.”
It was quiet. Then after a spell Spring said. “You don’t sound excited.”
“I am,” he said quickly, then slowed. “I think. I just – everything’s moving fast. Faster than I thought it would. I was looking forward to the summer.”
She nodded, like that confirmed something she’d already known. The cicadas were loud now, filling the quiet, so neither of them had to rush.
“I wanted to tell you about the blue-eyed lady,” he said, voice dropping. “I swear I was trying to figure out how?—”
“I don’t want to talk about that,” she cut in, gently but firm. She finally looked at him then. “Not tonight.”
He studied her face, searching for anger, accusation, anything sharp. There wasn’t any of that. Just exhaustion. “Okay,” he said. “Yeah.”
She leaned back on her hands, eyes up at the darkening sky. “Let’s just… sit here. Right now. Before everything gets louder.”
They did. For a minute. For two. For longer. As if time would slip thought their fingers if either one of them spoke. They held their space as long as their hearts would allow.
Then he spoke again, softer. “Maybe you could come out on tour for a bit. This summer. Before school starts.”
She winced slightly. “I mean – I thought about it.” Hope flickered in his chest before she kept going. “But I won’t be here long,” she added. “I’m doing early admissions. Spelman.”
The word landed like a dropped plate.
“Atlanta?” he asked, even though he knew the answer.
She nodded. “I know we talked about U of H but… Spelman’s film program – it’s what I want.”
He swallowed. He was proud – he really was – but pride didn’t stop the ache. “That’s… wow. That’s big.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No,” he said immediately. “Just… surprised.”
They sat in that truth, the distance between Houston and Atlanta already stretching itself out between them.
“It’s all too much at once,” she admitted. “Your studio time. The tour. My move. Everything feels like it’s happening on top of us instead of around us.”
He rubbed his hands together, thinking. “We could try to make it work. Visits. Calls. I mean, I’ll be in and out of cities anyway.”
She turned toward him fully now, eyes shining but steady. “I love you.”
His breath caught. He felt the weight of her words, but they hurt more than they healed. He wasn’t sure why.
She looked at him, already fighting the tears in her eyes. “I think you’re special, you’ve taught me so much,” she continued. “I really do. You’re going to take on the world, Preston. I believe that with everything in me.”
“Why does this feel like goodbye?” he asked quietly.
She didn’t answer right away. When she did, her voice trembled just enough to be honest. “Because I don’t want us to lose each other trying to hold on too tight,” she said. “We’re still figuring out who we are. If this is real… we need space to grow into ourselves first.”
He looked down, jaw clenched, fighting the instinct to argue, to promise, to beg. “So you’re saying…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
She reached for his hand. “I think we need to let each other go… for now.”
It hurt. There was no way around that. He nodded anyway. “Okay,” he said, voice rough but steady. “If that’s what you need.”
She squeezed his hand, forehead dropping briefly to his shoulder. “I don’t want to stop loving you.”
“I really hope you find peace,” he said.
“And happiness – you deserve it more than anyone I’ve ever met.
” He looked in her eyes and wiped a tear from his one.
“Nairobi…” He smiled slightly, then, with an honest gaze, said, “I don’t know if I ever told you this, but, when I say your name it sounds like music.
” She smiled slightly, never breaking eye contact as he continued.
“When I look at you, that’s what I see…”
“What?”
“Music.”
They stayed like that for a moment longer – two people choosing honesty over comfort, love over possession.
When she finally stood, he didn’t follow. He just watched her go inside, the door closing softly behind her.
Preston stayed on the steps, staring at the place where she’d been sitting, realizing that loving someone sometimes meant stepping back?—
Even when every part of you wanted to hold on.