I heard my text alert ping. My traitorous heart leapt.Brooke? Had she changed her mind? Was she giving me her cell number?My heart ramped up as I swiped my notifications.
A text from Blaze.
BLAZE
Sky lounge tonight. 9 pm.
Don’t flake.
I tossedmy phone on the couch and flipped through the channels.Titanicwas playing. Perfect. Nothing like watching a bunch of people die tragically to suit my crap-tastic mood.
Three hours and many beers later, I hadn’t solved the Brooke issue, but I had come to at least one conclusion:TitanicSUCKED. I mean obviously, Kate Winslet was ridiculously hot. That wasn’t up for debate. That ending though? What the hell, man. And Jack totally could’ve fit on that door.
The ache in my heart was down to a dull throb. I wondered if it would ever really go away.
I checked my phone. 9:30. I scrolled past a few missed texts from Blaze, then locked my phone.
I whistled to my trusty pup.
“Bed, Echo.”
He trotted down the hallway, following me to my bedroom. He hopped on the foot of the bed, curling up in a tight ball to sleep.
I tossed and turned that night, my pride smarting from Brooke’s rejection. It felt all too familiar, and lying there in the dark, my thoughts crept back to the night of our high school graduation.
My mom had droppedme off at the Meadows’ new house that afternoon, the one Brooke’s mom had moved Brooke and Owen into when their dad had moved out. So much had changed in a few short years. We weren’t neighbors anymore, but we’d still spent our days together at school and most of our evenings together, doing homework at one of our houses.
I’d begged my mom to let me ride with Brooke and her mom and Owen to the graduation ceremony.
I’d been rehearsing for weeks what I wanted to say to her. I just had to find the perfect moment.
Brooke answered the door in a pretty white dress that fit her body just right, the hemline hitting well above her knees and showcasing her toned legs. The dress had short puffy sleeves,was tight around her waist, and flared out at the skirt. The material had little flower shapes cut out and stitched.
I gently reached out to touch the fabric on her shoulder.
“What’s this called?”
Brooke was always teasing me about being a clueless dude when it came to fashion.
“Eyelet,” she said with a smile. To me, it looked like the beginning of summer. “Do you like?” She did a little twirl.
Dumbstruck, I just nodded.
Her heels brought her almost to my height. The afternoon light caught in her brown hair, which she wore down in loose waves. Her glossy lips sparkled. She looked like a goddess.
I knew soon the outfit would be covered by our light blue graduation gowns, and I was grateful I got to see her like this, all dressed up, hair and makeup styled, beaming confidently. It was a sight I’d have burned into my brain forever.
It was a short ride to the high school, and soon we were shuffled into a small group of bodies. Teachers were barking orders, directing the seniors where to line up, reminding us to straighten robes and caps.
I wished Brooke’s last name was close to mine alphabetically so we could sit together, but instead I was pushed to the front while she took her place in the middle of our senior group. She squeezed my hand for a moment before I was pulled away.
“See you after,” she smiled.
I half-listened as our principal droned on about “this momentous occasion.” Soon I heard my name called and crossed the stage in a haze, vaguely recognizing my parents’ voices cheering in the audience. I walked off the stage and took my seat in the audience, leaning back to catch Brooke’s eye a couple rows behind me. She gave me a goofy grin and a thumbs up.
Before long, it was her turn. She looked so beautiful up there crossing the stage, her legs a mile long. The salutatorian, the volleyball captain. She proudly accepted her diploma, shaking hands with the principal and smiling widely for the camera. She stepped to the side and confidently moved her tassel across her cap. Her eyes locked with mine, which made my stomach do somersaults.
After the ceremony I saw Brooke exchanging hugs with her volleyball teammates, her science lab partner—it seemed like everybody wanted a chance to congratulate Brooke and wish her a happy summer.
