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Hope blooms inside, right over the spot the notebook rests. “Thank you,” I say again, taking small steps backward.

“You’re welcome… and remember if you need anything, let me know.”

I nod and turn, walking back toward my porch with a wide smile on my face, never looking back even though I’m tempted to.

For the first time in a long time, I feel good about tomorrow. That maybe things will be better? This has to be a sign. It has to be.

I grip the edge of the box and toss it across the room. The box hits the wall and shatters just like my heart did. Angry, I throw myself down on the bed and bury my face into a pillow.

No matter how much I wished for my crush on him to go away, it never did. I always thought time heals all wounds, but that was a lie. My want for Lucca became stronger, and still, to this day, I want him. Over the last two years, I had numerous occasions to get involved with men.

As my body filled out more, so did the interest of the opposite sex. I couldn’t count the number of times I had been asked out. I was quiet and kept to myself. Most people called me a book nerd because I was always in the library or reading, but that didn’t deter guys from noticing me.

I wasn’t interested in anyone else, though. No matter how much I tried to tell myself Lucca didn’t care about me the way I did him, I couldn’t make my treacherous heart move on.

Now I’m lying in bed, on the evening of my birthday, moping over a man that will never want me. Pull it together, Claire. Screaming into my pillow will not change things, but sure as hell will alleviate some tension.

I pull my face out of the pillow and look up to find Carter standing in the doorway of my room.

“What do you want, Carter?” I growl, unable to hide my frustration.

Carter strolls into my bedroom and frowns. “Were you just screaming into your pillow, Claire-bear?” I hate his nickname for me just about as much as I hate Lucca’s. I never told Carter, but my mom used to call me Claire-bear too.

I sit up on the bed. “Haven’t I told you half a million times not to call me that?”

Carter smirks, his perfectly straight white teeth remind me of a rottweiler’s sharp canines. As funny and charming as he is, I’ve never forgotten that he is here for one purpose, and that’s keeping me in line. “Yes, but that’s the reason I call you it because I know it annoys you.”

I’m not the type to beat around the bush, so I just come out with it, “What do you want?”

Carter’s smile becomes bigger and brighter. “Now, wouldn’t you like to know?”

I roll my eyes. “Not really, but because you walked in, I figured you had a reason for coming in here. If not, please get out and take that pathetic gift that he sent with you.”

Looking over his shoulder, he stares at the mess for a second before facing me, his smile now a frown. “Why did you break it?”

I grit my teeth. I don’t want to head down this road with Carter. “It’s a stupid gift, and I don’t want it. What did you come in here for?”

“I got something for you too, but I’m worried that if you don’t like it, I might be the next thing tossed in the corner of the room.” Somehow, he always finds a way to make me smile.

My lips turn up at the sides just a little. “I would never do that, and you are way too heavy for me to throw you across the room.”

“Wait, did you just call me fat?” Carter fake gasps.

I ignore his comment. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” God knows, you’ve done enough. Though he was my babysitter for all intents and purposes, Carter slowly became my best friend, maybe even brother. I look up to him, and any time I need something, including a hug, he’s there. Even my parents love him and started treating him like a son.

“I did.” He reaches into the front pocket of his hoodie and pulls out something. “It ain’t much of anything, not really, but for tonight, it’ll be your one-way ticket to a night you will never forget.”

“I swear to god if you’re giving me a condom, I will—”

“Shut up and take it.” He tosses the object at me, and I catch it mid-air. I flip the piece of plastic that mimics an ID over in my hand. There’s a picture of a girl that looks a lot like me, her name is Kayla, and her birthday is conveniently three years before mine, making her twenty-one.

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