What We Did to Survive

Chapter One

Unrequited love, thou art a bitch.

I lean against the smoothie stand’s mosaic countertop and try not to look at him, but I fail.

As always. I have no self-control when it comes to Jackson.

My gaze slips across the pool in the middle of the U-shaped resort to the white lounge chairs where my best friend’s older brother reclines shirtless, one hand flung above his head.

The other holds open the Ted Bundy book that’s had the full scope of his attention since we landed in Mexico.

Thank god my sunglasses are dark enough to hide where I’m looking.

He shifts in his seat, turning his head just enough that I spot the Bluetooth headphones in his ears.

He’s undoubtedly listening to a true crime podcast while he reads.

I swear Jackson’s one of those humans who uses one hundred percent of his brain capacity.

There’s no other explanation for how he’s able to listen to one thing and read another, but I’ve seen him do it a thousand times.

He’s impressive and gorgeous.

It’s honestly rude.

I force myself to look away. Emmy’s down on the beach, and the last thing I need is for her to pop up and catch me ogling her stupid brother. As far as she knows, my crush died years ago. As it should have.

This resort is quite possibly the most beautiful place I’ve ever been in my life.

Pristine white sand beaches, huge palm trees, and perfect weather every day.

There’re six restaurants, a taco bar, smoothie stand, and crepe cart poolside.

The spa is also incredible. Emmy tried to convince her parents that we required at least one spa service a day in the name of “sacred best friend time,” and when that argument flopped, “We need this before we go our separate ways after graduation!” did the trick.

It should be the perfect vacation.

And yet, all I can think about is the boy on the lounger who hasn’t said more than three words to me since he threw my luggage onto the weight scale at the Portland airport. He’s ruining everything and has absolutely no idea.

The combination of butterflies and annoyance starts to make me a little sick to my stomach. I turn my back on the pool.

When Emmy’s parents invited me to Puerto Vallarta for spring break, I couldn’t see a single downside.

It’s our last chance to decompress before senior year gets even more hectic with finals, grad party prep, prom, and graduation.

One last hurrah before I leave for college and Emmy takes off to explore the world.

It never occurred to me that he’d come with them.

Jackson’s barely been home since he left for college the year before last.

Except for Christmas.

A spasm of regret races down my spine, and I shake my head to clear the memories.

By the time I found out Jackson was coming to Mexico, there wasn’t a graceful way to bow out.

The Coles would have been sad and worried, Emmy would’ve been pissed, and my dad would have had to eat the cost of my nonrefundable flight.

Jackson’s the only person who’d know why I bailed, and I’d rather eat my own flip-flop than give him the satisfaction of knowing I canceled an entire vacation to avoid him.

I wish I knew how to let him go, but it’s been ten years, and this stupid crush is as strong as the day it formed—even though he’s given me every reason to abandon it. I’m starting to think I’ll be seventy years old, gray from head to toe, and still what-if-ing about Jackson freaking Cole.

A woman in a bright blue resort polo holds up two smoothies. “I have a strawberry banana and a mixed berry for Hannah?”

“That’s me.” I thank the woman, sign for the room charge, and take the drinks. A waft of banana works up my nose from Emmy’s cup. I curl my lip and hold it away from me. I hate bananas.

I make my way to the beach without glancing in Jackson’s direction.

Emmy’s sprawled across a lounge chair down on the sand.

Her long strands of bleach blond hair dance in the breeze.

She’s got her phone screen pressed to her nose, ankles perfectly crossed, showcasing the hot pink pedicure she got on our last spa day, trying to get the perfect photo for her Insta story.

I put the smoothies on the wooden table between her lounger and mine, and she twists in her seat to show me the screen.

“What do we think? Is this cute or not?”

I cup the screen to block the sun so I can see. The photo is a fantastic shot of her legs, with a perfect wave crashing against the sand as a backdrop. A palm frond from the tree above us dips into the upper left corner. I give her the thumbs-up. “A-plus Instagram material.”

She lets out an excited little squeal and posts the photo.

“God, I love this place. Everything is gorgeous. I’ve literally never been so relaxed.

Though I don’t know why anyone bothers to sit around that pool.

We have those back home. This, however,” she says, waving two open arms at the view in front of us, “is unique perfection. I’d never choose a pool over the ocean. ”

As per usual, Emmy’s sentences blur together in her excitement.

She doesn’t need me to respond, so I settle into my lounger and sip my smoothie, nodding as she shifts to wondering what’s responsible for the particular smell of sunscreen, how often it rains in Puerto Vallarta, and whether or not paddleboarding is hard, before she finally settles on what spa treatment we should try next.

I just listen to her go, smiling wider and wider as her face turns pink between breaths.

I love her so damn much. The situation with her brother might be annoying, but I’m so grateful to have this time before we’re separated by thousands of miles.

In the fall, I’ll be at Linfield University, and Emmy will be on her world tour, starting in Italy.

She has a thing for adventure, for new experiences.

Emmy was never going to apply to college, move into a dorm, and put down roots.

She’s been tacking travel photos to her walls since the sixth grade.

They’ve become a chaotic wallpaper behind her bed frame, everywhere from Cusco, to Marrakesh, to Beijing.

She doesn’t care about the order or have much of a plan for how she’s going to get from one place to the next.

She wants to, and I quote, See where the wind takes me.

Emmy is my opposite in many ways, but especially in this one.

She’s all about the unexpected, and I prefer the familiar.

Emmy’s always looking to make new friends, meet new boys, have new experiences, while I like the few friends I have and have liked the same boy for a decade.

Emmy wants to explore new places, and I get anxiety when I have to drive somewhere new and don’t know the parking situation.

Emmy’s the captain of the volleyball team at Waldorf, while I’d rather eat glass than play a team sport.

But opposites must attract, because we’ve been friends since the day my dad bought the house beside hers.

“You’re being quiet,” Emmy says.

I startle out of my thoughts. Emmy’s twisted in her lounge chair, staring at me with a mostly empty smoothie cup in her hands. How long have I been spacing out?

“Sorry,” I say brightly. “Enjoying the view.”

She eyes me. “No. You’ve been a grump for months, and now you’re zombie-ing through our epic vacation. What’s up with you?”

I set my smoothie on the table and gather my best “I’m fine” face. “Nothing’s up. I’m a little tired from the sun, but I’m not complaining.”

She flops back onto her lounger. “Fine. Lie to me. It’s cool. I’ll be here when you want to talk.”

I hate and love how well she knows me.

“Was Jackson by the pool?” she asks.

“I think so.”

It comes out so calm, so casual that I want to pat myself on the back. As if I haven’t been clocking his exact location since the moment he emerged from the hotel.

Pa-the-tic.

“Has he looked up from his book yet?”

I roll my eyes. “Unlikely.”

She plops the empty smoothie on the table and glares back in his general direction.

“We’re at a resort with miles of beautiful beaches at our fingertips, and he’d rather stick his nose in a book?

A book he could easily read back home, or on the plane, or in his stupid dorm at his stupid college. He’s wasting the sun.”

I can’t hold back a smile as I adjust the strap of my bathing suit. “He’s enjoying vacation his way too, I guess.”

She scoffs. “Don’t defend him. He’s dumb. You’re proof of that.”

My hand stills on the strap. “What do you mean?”

“He dropped the ball big time when he fumbled you,” she says with a wink. “One day he’s going to find out about your crush, and he’s going to feel like the biggest idiot on the planet for missing out.”

Flashes of winter break flood my mind, and another spasm of guilt hits me. I take a long drink of my smoothie so I don’t say something stupid. Like, He already knows. Didn’t make a difference.

I’m not a fan of keeping secrets from my best friend, but I don’t know how to tell her about something I don’t understand myself.

Winter break was so monumentally embarrassing that it’s best to pretend it never happened at all.

Emmy’s not good at pretending. Especially not where I’m concerned.

The only way this stays quiet and firmly in the past is if she never finds out about it.

So I keep my mouth shut.

Emmy rips her aviators off her face and jumps to her feet. “Oh my god, I know what you need!”

“Um…what?”

“A vacation fling.”

I put up my hand to stop her. “No, thank you. That’s more your alley than mine. No judgment. Just facts.”

“Come on! You haven’t crushed on anyone since Jackson. You need a no-strings-attached palette cleanser. A rebound crush so you can jet off to Linfield with a fresh mind!”

“That sounds like the worst idea ever,” I say, sipping the smoothie I no longer want. “I don’t need to make out with a stranger to clear my mind. Consider it translucent.”