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PROLOGUE
DEVLYN
Four Years Ago
“We should break up.”
I rear my head back as if Kelsey slapped me. Did I hear her correctly?
The crowd continues to cheer and dance as high-volume music plays around us. A tassel smacks my cheek as another graduate from our senior class squeezes through the throng of bodies.
Leaning in, I speak next to Kelsey’s ear. “Sorry, didn’t hear you over the noise.” At least I don’t think I heard her. “What’d you say?”
Kelsey takes my hand and guides us through hundreds of our classmates and their families. Her hand in mine feels different, colder, less comforting. Nothing like the girl I’ve known the past three years. The abrupt change has me queasy and unsettled.
Once we reach the outskirts, she stops and spins to face me. The downturn of her lips is an instant red flag. A warning sign telling me I didn’t mishear what she said a moment ago. But I refuse to believe it. Not until I hear the words clearly from her lips and the reason why.
“Devlyn, I’m sorry.” Her bottom lip juts out as her eyes droop at the corners.
She’s sorry?You have got to be kidding me. Hersorryappears a little too forced, a little too practiced.
Kelsey and I have been practically inseparable since Andrew Bishop’s “We survived freshman year” party three years ago. It wasn’t an instant love connection, but she carried herself unlike other high school girls. More mature and less catty. She had this air about her; a strength I gravitated toward. Plus, she made me laugh. A lot.
We had hung out all summer. By the time sophomore year started, Kelsey Martin was officially my girlfriend. Not a single day passed where I doubted our relationship or its backbone. We were solid. Practically attached at the hip. In love.
Or so I thought.
“You’re sorry?” The words leave my lips harsher than intended, but I don’t regret the severity of my tone. Not when the girl who has owned my heart for three years says she wants to break up. I glance off to the side, too stunned to see anything. When I return my gaze, every soft line of her face—the ones I drew from memory with pencil and charcoal—blur into a blob of unpleasant colors. “Doesn’t seem like you’re sorry,” I choke out.
A hand grazes my forearm and I yank it from her grip. Her head falls forward as she sniffles. “Please don’t hate me.” Sadness laces her voice and makes me question reality. Makes me question the reason behind this sudden change.
“How did you expect me to feel?” I shiver, cross my arms over my chest and hug myself. “Did you expect me to be okay with this?” I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and open them on the exhale. “You gave no indications. We see each other every day and you’ve never said or shown you’re unhappy.”
“I’m not,” she says quickly.
Our eyes meet and I shake my head. “Then why?” I want to touch her. Want to reach out, wrap my arms around her, and mold her to my frame.
But I won’t. Never again. Doing so only muddles the water more.
She stares off toward the crowd, laughs without humor then meets my doubtful eyes. “Graduation day,” she murmurs. “Today should be one of the happiest days of our non-adult lives.” I nod but keep my lips sealed. Right now, I don’t trust my voice or the words I might spew. “Last night, as I got everything ready for today, it blindsided me.”
My brows pinch at the middle. “What did?”
Kelsey waves a hand toward the massive gathering, as if I should automatically know the storm of thoughts brewing in her head. “This!” She points to random people, then waves a hand at the room. “Graduation. The end. And not just the end of high school, but the start of what follows.”
This isn’t hot off the press news. Most of our senior year was spent in assemblies discussing what would happen this year and what it all meant. Most of junior and senior year was packed with college discussions and plans for after high school. Kelsey and I had discussed all this at length with each other. Us taking different paths after high school wasn’t anything new. And we talked, on more than one occasion, about our relationship post high school.
Our conversations never revolved around breaking up. Of course our relationship would be different, but we planned to stick it out.
Yes, hundreds of miles would separate us—Kelsey starts Florida State in the fall while I start at Ringling. Less than a day’s drive away, our plan was to spend as many weekends and breaks together as possible. We had it all mapped out.
Or so I thought. Obviously, unbeknownst to me, those plans flew out the window.
“And?” I drag out the single-word question. “We talked about this.”
She shakes her head, not wanting to hear what I have to say. “No, Dev. We talked about our fantasy life, post high school.” Her eyes close a beat, then meet mine. Another shiver racks my body at the coldness in her eyes, the stiffness in her posture. “Reality check, we aren’t kids anymore. Even if we met in the middle, seeing each other on off days would be exhausting. Both of us will get behind in our studies. It’s just too hard.”
She averts her eyes to the senior class twenty feet from us. Her spine straightens as she wipes all emotion from her face. Bile rises in my throat as I take in this new side of her. A side I have never seen. A side that makes me sick to my stomach.
