I don’t know why I didn’t expect to meet anyone my age right away. Blue Fields has taken on a life of its own in my imagination up until now—a torture chamber meant to end all happiness in my life. I was so caught up with wallowing that I didn’t account forcute boys.
“Hi.”
The boy’s voice makes me jump as it breaks the silence. I almost drop the book in my hands, so I hastily shove it back into place on the shelf. I turn, butterflies doing acrobatics in my stomach. “Hi.”
He gives me a shy smile before gesturing to the table. “Do you play Magic?”
I eye theMagic the Gatheringcards. “Yeah, sometimes.”
“Cool. Wanna play?”
“Oh. Sure, okay.” I shove my hands into my back pockets for something to do.
“Cool,” he repeats.
My giggle breaks the awkwardness settling between us, and he chuckles along. The next smile transforms his face, his blue irises shining behind his large frames. “Have a seat.” He gesturesto the chair across from him. “Are you here for the flower festival?”
I sit, shaking my head. “Just moved here. Today, actually.”
His eyes light up, but he clears his throat, nodding casually. “Sweet. Want a soda? My grandparents keep some in the break room.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “They own this place. I’m here practically everyday.”
I accept his offer of a drink before leaning in to examine theMagicdecks on the table.
The boy stands and walks backward to a door directly behind him. “What’s your name?”
“Amelia.” My hands drift toward my hair and I pull on my ponytail, playing with the end. “But everyone calls me Mellie.”
“Hi, Mellie.” Our gazes meet, and something in the air between us shifts as the nickname slips easily from his lips. Any lingering awkwardness evaporates. He shoots me a wide grin as he pushes open the breakroom door, dimples on each of his cheeks winking down at me. “I’m Ronin.”
Part I
Blue Fields On My Mind
Chapter One
MELLIE
PRESENT DAY
Ronin was asking about you.
Bree’s words have been bouncing around my head since her trip here last month. She offhandedly mentioned seeing my former best friend when she came here for Thanksgiving. Was that before or after she told me she wanted to see other people? I can’t remember. That weekend had held more than one revelation.
Seeing him wasn’t odd—not when you live in a town as tiny as our hometown. But mentioning it to me? That was new. As an unspoken rule, we don’t talk about Ronin. Not anymore.
Now, almost a month later, I’m still pondering its meaning as I move around my bedroom, ducking into my tiny closet to toss another few shirts onto my bed. My stomach is in knots. wondering why he’s had a change of heart after years of silence. We haven’t spoken since I moved to LA four years ago.
When I ran away and he didn’t try to follow.
I’d give anything to have Ronin back in my life, to hear hisdeep laugh, feel his strong arms wrap me in a warm bear hug. It’s the longest I’ve gone without talking to him, and I miss him.
Bree, Ronin, and I had been inseparable as teens, known around our small town as the Three Troublemakers. Bree and I became even closer in the last year. One of her visits to my apartment and a drunken game of Never Have I Ever ended with us in bed together. That era ended last month after Thanksgiving when Bree came clean about meeting someone back home, confirming every fear I’ve had about starting a relationship with one of my closest friends. I should have trusted my gut, which had screamed at me that it was a terrible idea. Damn her and that stupid, sexy pink hair, and that cute ass.
It always sucks to be dumped, but in the end, I didn’t place the blame solely on Bree. Long distance was hard, and it never felt like either of us had our whole heart in the relationship. Our break-up was as amicable as one could get—minus the glitter bomb I briefly considered setting off in her rental car. At the end of the day, I think we are both aware that we make better friends than lovers.
Ronin, on the other hand… With Ronin missing from my life, it feels like there’s a giant man-sized hole in my heart, an empty vacuum in my day to day. He wanted things from me back then—things I could not give to him. After what happened with Bree, I’m more sure than ever that I made the right call. After months of him ignoring my text messages and phone calls, I took the hint and assumed the years of friendship we’d built didn’t mean the same to him as they did to me.
I move across my small room without thinking, stopping at my dresser to pick up the small, bejeweled picture frame sitting atop the dusty surface. I run my fingers across the blue and green gems, wiping the dust off the clear plastic covering the photo. Ronin’s arm is slung around my shoulders, his brown hair grown-out and floppy across his forehead. The grins that are stretched across our faces bring a wistful smile to mine now as I take in the teenagers staring back at me. We weren’t more than fourteen or fifteen in this photo.
