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“I know,” I say. “You’re justin arelationshipwith her.”
“We’re not discussing this right now.” He looks like he wants to kiss me right here, like he wants to silence the heavy beating in my chest once and for all, but he can’t.
Not now.
Not ever.
Too much is at stake.
“Easton!” One of his teammates calls from down the hall. “Come on, man! We’re running late!”
He steps back, looking me over one last time. “Leave your window unlocked for me tonight.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Try me and fucking see…”
3
ME
Dear Aidan Mills,
I cheated off all your papers in AP History class, and I’m really sorry about that… I don’t know why Mr. Meyers gave me higher grades than you.
Wish I Would’ve Told You,
—Scarlett
The worst part of marching band rehearsal is being forced to wear our full cotton uniforms in the sweltering Southern heat. Then again, maybe it’s the fact that our band practices are open to the public.
Since there’s not much to do in our small town, random people show up to watch and shout commentary from the bleachers.
If I hear someone shout, “What’s Tully Crane doing down there in the band?” one more time, I’m going to scream…
“At-ten-tion!” The drum major whistles. “All halt!”
I stop marching in unison with everyone else. Then the whistle sounds again, commanding us all to face forward.
“Trumpets, you came in a half rest late during the fight song, but the tubas thankfully saved your asses!” He yells from a ladder. “Woodwinds, perfect as always.”
I force a smile. It’s not like we get a prize for consistency.
“We need to be one hundred percent in sync for our first Friday night,” he says. “It’s the season opener, and you know the media will be watching our football team like hawks so we need to put on our best show.”
“One of the flute player’s shoe strings is untied!” Someone from the bleachers yells. “She also missed a step when y’all were playing Sweet Caroline!”
I bite my tongue and look to the sidelines.
I spot one of my cutest classmates—Edward Johns—wrapping an arm around his long-term girlfriend. He’s kissing her cheek and whispering something against her skin, making her cheeks flush pink.
Everyone knows that she belongs to him, that there’s no point in trying to steal her way. The two of them are an unbreakable unit, just like Easton and Tully. Where one goes, the other follows. If you see one, the other is a few feet away.
What I wouldn’t give for me and Easton to have that.
Inpublic.
I could add up all our private moments, and they would pale in comparison to what everyone else sees with him and Tully. What their millions of followers obsess over daily on social media.
