Ryan lowers his head and I close my eyes.

The anticipation of this moment creates an energy that sizzles in the autumn air. I’m going to do it. I’m going to kiss Ryan—sober.

“Fuck, Beth.” From behind me, Isaiah spits out the words.

I whirl around and barely catch sight of him bolting out the back gate into the alley. Noah falls out of the hammock and heads after him. I need to go after Isaiah, not Noah. I take several steps, but laughter from the house stops me. I can’t leave Ryan. “Noah!”

“Go home, Beth,” he says as he strides toward the alley. “Back to Groveton and don’t come back.”

That’s the deal we made. When we hugged and apologized to each other, Noah promised to let me stay and enjoy my evening if, when it was over, I left and never looked back. It wasn’t a hard promise to make. In a few weeks, I’ll be gone for good. “I can’t leave knowing he’s upset.” Because after tonight, I may never see him again.

“Just go,” says Noah.

“No!” I grab Noah and fling myself in front of him. “He’s mad at me. I know he gets upset when I make out with guys, but Ryan isn’t some random guy. I have to explain that to him.” I have to explain to Isaiah that he is not in love with me. “But I can’t go after Isaiah and leave Ryan here. You know what will happen if some of Rico’s friends see Ryan without you or me.”

Noah rubs his eyes. Yes, he does know. Ryan isn’t a part of our circle and is fair game for a good beating. Noah gestures for me to go after Isaiah. “Fifteen minutes, Beth. I mean it. You need to go back to Groveton and finish out your life there.”

I turn and flinch to find Ryan standing close with his hands shoved into his pockets.

Hurt wounds the brown eyes that glowed with promise moments before.

“Ryan,” I stutter out. “He’s my best friend and he’s upset and…”

“Go after him.” Ryan crosses his arms over his chest. “But don’t string me along if it’s him you want.”

“What?” I shake my head. Ryan misunderstands. “Isaiah and I…we’re not like that.”

But I’m not going to waste time standing here arguing with Ryan over stupid jealousy issues when my best friend is upset. I push past Noah and run into the alley. A few steps into the darkness, strong hands grab my arms.

I suck in air to scream and I’m silenced by a familiar deep voice. “You’ve changed.” As if to prove his point, Isaiah shoves my wrist in front of my face and shows me Ryan’s pink ribbon.

“So have you. The Isaiah I knew would have run away with me and Mom when I asked. You left my mom with Trent and he broke her wrist! It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.

You used to take care of me!” My pulse thuds in my ears as I shove away from Isaiah.

The streetlamp attached to an aging utility pole flickers on and off. With each flash of light, a mix of anger and sadness crosses Isaiah’s face. “You used to let me take care of you. Now you’ve got some asshole jock doing your bidding.”

White-hot anger flashes through me. “Leave Ryan out of this. You’re the one PMS-ing like a girl. First you want to run away with me.

Then you don’t want anything to do with me.

Then you want to run away with me after graduation. Then you keep telling me to live my life in Groveton. Then you go and tell me that you love me when we both know you don’t.”

My heart jumps out of my chest when he punches his curled fists into the chain link fence behind him. The metal of the fence vibrates. “Dammit, Beth.”

Isaiah clutches the fence and he bends over as if he’s ready to vomit. Not once in four years have I seen him this emotional. My hands shake with adrenaline. “I don’t understand.”

Isaiah swears softly under his breath. “I am in love with you.”

Ice freezes my muscles. He said it—again.

“No, you aren’t.”

Isaiah spins and cups my face with his hands. I don’t feel warmth. I only feel cold.

Cold and confused. He lowers his head so that his face is close to mine. “I’ve been in love with you since I was fifteen. I wasn’t man enough to tell you, so Luke swooped in. You were so hurt after he used you that I swore to protect you until you could listen to what I had to say. I’m in love with you.”

My lungs tighten. God, I can’t breathe. Help me breathe. “You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine. I want more from you and I’m begging you to please give me more.”

My throat becomes raw and slowly swells.

“But you’re my best friend.”

His fingers gently move against my cheek.

“You want to leave, I’ll go. I’ll take you now.

We’ll get in my car, find your mom, and we’ll never look back. Your terms. Not mine.

Whatever you want. Whatever you need. Just say the words. Please say them.”

I love him.

Those words. My hand presses against his chest. His heart continues in the same steady beat I’ve come to depend upon. Isaiah is my rock. The string that holds me together when I’m ready to fall apart. He’s the anchor that keeps me from floating away when I go too far. His heart has been the one constant rhythm in my life and I don’t want to let it go.

“I love you.”

Isaiah tucks his chin toward his chest and I force air into my lungs when he clears his throat. “You’ve got to mean it.”

I try to physically shake the tears forming, but his hold on my face makes it impossible.

We haven’t talked for weeks, but I knew, in the deep recesses of my mind, that our separation was temporary. This somehow feels too real and that means this goodbye could be concrete.

I can’t lose him. I can’t. “I mean it. I love you.”

Like a friend. Like my best friend. Before Groveton, I never understood love and now…I still don’t understand it. But I know that it’s not emptiness, I know it’s not letting a guy use me, I know there are different types and what I feel for Isaiah…it’s not how I feel when I’m with Ryan.

Isaiah rests his forehead on mine. “Like you love him. Tell me you love me as much as you love him.”

Ryan. Am I in love with him? The thought causes panic. Just the sound of his name causes my heart to trip over itself. I love the way Ryan makes me feel. I love his words. I love his hands on my body. I love the way his gaze causes me to blush.

But I have to leave Ryan soon in order to protect my mom. If I say the right words, Isaiah will go with me. “Isaiah, I…”

Once upon a time, I wondered if I was falling in love with Isaiah. Echo had hugged him and he happily hugged her back. The pain and jealousy that shot through my body surprised even me. But I wasn’t falling for him. I was scared of Echo. Scared of the changes she was bringing to our lives. Changes that would have happened even if she had never existed.

I stare into his gray eyes. Isaiah’s wrong; he doesn’t love me. Not in the way he thinks. The truth is there—in his eyes. He doesn’t look at me the way Noah does Echo or how Chris does Lacy. He doesn’t look at me the way Ryan does.…

“I love you…”

I love Isaiah’s safety and I love his calm. I love his voice and his laughter. I love his constant, steady presence. But if the world were coming to an end, he’s not the person I’d want at my side. I love him. I love him so much that I know he deserves to have a girl who falls apart at his touch. He deserves to have a girl whose heart stops working every time he glances at her. He deserves someone who is “in” love with him.

“…as a friend. The same way that you love me.”

Isaiah shakes his head, as if doing that will make my words less true. “You’re wrong.”

He presses his lips against my forehead. My lower lip trembles as I ball the material of his shirt into my hand. I’m losing him. I’m losing my best friend.

“I’m not,” I say. “And someday you’re going to figure it out.”

“If you change your mind…” There’s a heaviness in his voice, and a part of me dies at the thought of him in so much pain. He touches his lips to my forehead once more, the caress lasting longer, the pressure more intense.

Isaiah walks away from me and fades into the darkness.

“I won’t,” I whisper as I close my eyes and wish that one day, he’ll change his.

Ryan

BETH ASKED FOR TIME. How long does she need? A day? A week? Hours? Any amount is too long when the girl I’m falling for had tears in her eyes. Any amount is too long when I wonder if she cares for me. I won’t see her until Tuesday. Tomorrow is parent–teacher conferences. Today is Sunday and my parents are hosting a barbecue for the mayor, the town council, and a few other friends of our family.

I’m dressed up and playing the perfect part.

Perfect.

It’s what Lacy called me when she explained why she would never fit into Groveton.

Perfect.

It’s what Beth spat at me when she refused the trust fall.

Perfect.

It’s the word Gwen just used when discussing how she wants the two of us to walk onto the football field together for homecoming.

Perfect.

Looking out on our back patio, I see nothing but boring perfection. The grass trimmed perfectly to three inches. The shrubs perfectly edged in the shape of round balls. The pots of fall chrysanthemums lining the edging of the patio perfectly placed one foot apart. Perfect people who grew up in this town and perfectly filled their parents’ shoes.

At the other end of the table, my mother inclines her head toward Gwen. I take the nonverbal cue and turn my attention to my “dinner partner.” Gwen gives me a smile that’s one more perfect thing in the backyard.

“Wouldn’t that be awesome, Ryan?”

No, walking onto the field with her on my arm at homecoming wouldn’t be awesome. I want to share that moment with Beth. “I’m not sure we get to decide who we walk with.”

Gwen ignores my comment. “Could you pour me some more water?”

I reach for the pitcher in front of me and do as she asks. This is my obligation to my parents. My job is to fill Gwen’s drink when it’s empty, remove her dishes when she’s done, and to entertain her. Déjà vu sets in and my head swims with a sinking revelation. This same exact moment is how Gwen and I started dating.

Gwen’s mother sips her wine. Her face is tighter than it was last fall. “We need to make a decision regarding Allison Risk and the event committee at church.”

Mom fidgets with her pearl necklace. She hates uncomfortable decisions. “Allison is a sweet young woman.”

“Are you in favor of her joining, Miriam?”

Gwen’s mother asks.

Uncharacteristically, my mother pours wine into her empty water glass. “I don’t know. The Risks were dreadful people. Do you remember Scott’s parents? The man was a mean drunk and the woman wasn’t much better.”

“But Scott’s not his parents,” I say and everyone at the table glances at me. My mother shoots me a warning glare, but my father puts a hand on my mother’s arm to back her off.