Page 187 of Summer Love

“I was in love with you,” he adds, quieter. “Since the summer before. Maybe even earlier. Except…”

He stops, runs a hand over the back of his neck, then goes on.

“You were aiming for Columbia. I didn’t even know if I’d finish high school. Noah was the brains of the family. I just wanted to surf. That was it. I couldn’t see myself telling you, ‘Hey, I’ve got nothing to offer you, but I’m in love with you.’”

“Jace…”

“I figured it was better to say nothing. And then that night happened. The next morning, I made the dumbest bet of my life. And after that…”

He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to.

“And Noah?”

“He was in love with you too. Before I was, I think.”

I knew that. Hearing it now, from Jace, takes me back to the run with Noah, to what he let slip at the edge of the cliffs.

I had a crush on you. Had it bad, actually.

“Noah didn’t make up that there was a bet,” Jace says. “He made up what the bet was about. He knew we’d spent the night together. He was jealous.”

I close my eyes for a second.

“Call him,” Jace adds. “It’s the truth, I swear. He’ll tell you.”

“No need. I believe you.”

I burst into tears. Jace leans in and wipes my cheeks with his thumbs, one, then the other. Then he pulls me against him and holds me.

When I’ve calmed down a little, he takes my right wrist gently and runs a finger over the braided bracelet.

“I bought it at the fair the summer before,” he says. “A girl was making bracelets at a booth near the carousel. I went back and forth for an hour.”

“Why?” I say, sniffling.

“I was scared you’d think it was lame. Or worse—that you’d figure out what it meant and turn me down. The morning of the bet… I left it on my pillow.”

“I found it under the bed the other day.”

I cry without a sound. Jace sets my right foot on his thigh, his thumbs pressing into the arch. I smother a sigh.

“And now?” I finally say.

Jace’s hands go still.

“Come back to Coral Bay with me.”

I shake my head right away.

“I can’t.”

His face darkens. I take a long breath.

“Jace… I did two years at Columbia with no grants, no scholarship money. I’ve got a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in student loans. I got a six-month grace period after I graduated, and I’ve been paying them back for eight months now. The internship barely covers my rent. The diner is what puts food on the table. With tips, I just about get by.”

I nod at the room—the hundred square feet, the mattress on the floor, the bare walls.

“This is my life. Since I left college.”