He grinned and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ve kept tabs.”
For a second I wondered what, exactly, he meant by that. Then my eyes fell on the grass just behind him, where he’d been waiting for me to notice why we came. A thick, gnarled blanket spread on the ground, not unlike the one he always stole from his mom’s closet when we’d sneak out for the beach at night. On top, two Styrofoam cups waited, red straws peaking at me in the dull light.
Wordlessly, I stepped forward and dropped to the throw, rubbing the fabric between my fingers. “Is this…” My voice trailed off.
“Yup,” he replied, folding onto the blanket beside me. “Found it in my Jeep. Can you believe that?”
If I closed my eyes, I could see the secret evenings spent stargazing, waves crashing as we whispered ridiculous thoughts and childish dreams to each other. The very threads were woven into the fabric of our history.
“You’re ridiculous,” I murmured, chest tight as he offered me a cup. “What’s this?”
Teddy waited for me to take a sip before smiling. “Orange soda,” he said.
“From the gas station?”
“The best kind,” he replied.
I remembered the day: during a home game my mother never showed for, Teddy appeared wielding an orange soda. He said it was the closest he could find to Gatorade, then it became a running joke, and he proceeded to bring it to every game after that for the rest of high school. What hedidn’tknow was that he’d firmly established a permanent place in my heart with that goofy smile behind the chain-link fence.
The pesky spark reappeared, glowing brighter than before, filling my thoughts with a bothersome amount of irrational hope.
I set the soda down and pulled my knees to my chest. “So, you… kept tabs,” I said, hoping he couldn’t hear the wobble in my voice as I stared at the distant gleam of the bleachers.
“Yeah.” Teddy cleared his throat and leaned back on his palms. “I just— I think you might’ve misunderstood me earlier, M. Of course I missed you—how could I not? Our friendship was one of the most important things in my life. I can’t just… forget that.”
That maddening word again—friendship.
I snorted. “Right. Well, if that’s all, I really need to get back to editing.”
Teddy grabbed my wrist before I could stand. Something urgent, the same as a few days prior, flashed in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay?” He dragged both hands through his hair with a groan. “I know what I’m going to say, and then I get around you, and everything comes out wrong.”
“What do you mean?” I whispered, flushed despite the frigid breeze.
“I mean that—” He paused, rising to his feet and beginning to pace in front of me.
I cocked my head and watched him curiously. He acted the exact same when Wes broke his leg trying to dive off Bluebell Point at fifteen, and we were all waiting to find out if he’d ever play lacrosse again. The moment flashed red in my mind. Hewasnervous.
Teddy Bowman wasnervous.
“It’s just—” He hesitated and rubbed his eyes. “It’s ridiculous that, after all these years, you make me feel like a high schooler with a crush.”
The words forced a rush of air into my lungs. My thoughts tangled, colliding until they made no sense at all. He always had that effect—turning me into a jumbled mess.
I stood, knees swaying a fraction. Teddy’s hands shot out to my arms to steady me, then dropped away as if I burned him. Our gazes met for a moment before he swallowed and looked away.
“After all this time…” I said, unable to complete a sentence.
“I know,” he groaned, “Everything’s different—but somehow it still feels the exact same. And you probably think I’ve lost my mind.”
The wind picked up, and I hugged my sweater closer. All I could manage was, “I don’t think that.”
I could barely hear it myself, but he perked up, eyes widening as he took a step forward. Every cell in my body screamed at me to run. It was the same Teddy who met me under the lighthouse and acted like none of it mattered. The one who played on repeat every time my fingers itched to reach out over the years.
But he was also a hundred orange sodas in Styrofoam cups, a shoulder for the tears no one else saw, and the Teddy who pushed me to dream just as hard as he did.
There were always two people in a relationship. What parts had I been leaving out of this one?
“I need you to say it out loud,” I said, my voice sounding small and seven years younger.
