The question rattled around for a few moments before becoming clear. “Saw him yesterday,” I said.
He frowned. “You could’ve told me.”
Something sour flooded my stomach. Teddy looked at me with that grossly sympathetic crinkle around his eyes, the kind I’d become accustomed to ignoring for my entire first year of high school.
“That wasn’t exactly the first thing on my mind,” I hissed.
“Right.” He dragged a hand through his hair and swallowed. “I guess it makes sense now, y’know? I only wish you’d told me so I—”
“Wait—” I held up a hand and leaned away from him. “Whatmakes sense?”
Teddy’s gaze widened. “You know—yesterday, and—”
The sound of my stool scraping against the floor cut him off.
“Wow,” I said, laughing humorlessly. “So that’s it, then? You think I’m spiraling becauseAndrewcame home?”
His brow furrowed. “Margot, that’s not—”
“Save it,” I snapped, and my voice came out too loud for the tiny café. Heads turned. My throat burned. “You don’t get to psychoanalyze me, Teddy. Not when you’re the one who walked away.”
His expression flickered, like he couldn’t decide whether to be angry or confused or sorry. Probably all three.
“That’s not fair,” he said quietly.
“Neither was seven years ago.”
I stepped around him before he could say anything else. My pulse thudded in my ears as I pushed through the door and out into the crisp air. The world outside was caramel light and lazy flurries of leaves, everything safe and calm—but all I could think about was how easily history repeated itself.
Across the street, my father walked toward the beach with his daughter on his shoulders, her laughter spilling through the square. They sipped their drinks identically, and my chest squeezed with a thousand shards of broken glass.
I straightened my shoulders. Nothing could be done; they were all here now, invading my exploded life just when I was gathering the pieces.
Crumbling wasn’t an option. I wouldn’t give them that power again.
CHAPTER NINE
2018
The place didn’t even look like the gymnasium anymore. Someone had strung white lights across the ceiling, draped gauzy fabric from the basketball hoops, and set up a punch table beside the bleachers. It smelled like hairspray, waxed floors, and the faint sweetness of pastries from the Main Street bakery.
I smoothed my dress—pale blue, something I’d found at the thrift store—and pretended I wasn’t watching the door.
Teddy was late.
Not that it was unusual. Teddy Bowman lived his entire life on his own clock, somehow always forgiven for it. But tonight, of all nights, I wanted him to show up on time—if only to prove that this thing between us was as real as it felt.
When he finally walked in, the noise around me blurred. He wasn’t even trying—his tie was crooked, his hair still damp from a shower, sleeves rolled to his elbows like he’d wandered in from some alternate, cooler universe. But when his eyes found mine, his grin widened, like nothing else in the glittering, swaying room existed.
“Sorry,” he said, breathless, as he reached me. “Wes’s truck broke down on the way over.”
“I was starting to think you ditched me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said—and somehow, I knew he meant it. When he offered his hand, I took it.
We danced, if you could call it that—more of a slow shuffle in the corner of the gym while some student DJ played early-2000s pop. My cheek brushed his shoulder; his thumb traced lazy circles against my wrist. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I had to hold it all together. I just felt… held.
“Can’t believe we’re actually here. Together,” I whispered.
