Page 41 of Come Break My Heart Again

Elle rolls her eyes, but steps to the side so I can climb out of the window first.

It’s an easy climb, one I manage in less than a minute. Elle does it quickly as well, requiring no assistance from me. I’m more disappointed about that than I should be.

“I’m down the street,” she says once we’re on solid ground. “It’s best to avoid the gridlock.”

“Smart,” I compliment. I can’t even spot Zane’s car in the mess of vehicles at odd angles.

“I have my moments.”

We weave through haphazardly parked cars until we reach the sidewalk. It’s perfectly paved, not a crack in sight.

Every house we pass is as big and expensive-looking as Maddie’s.

“Your place like these?” I ask, staring at one of them.

It’s the only distraction I have from Elle walking right next to me. We’re alone out here, the sounds from the party fading more with each step.

“There’s no pool.”

One corner of my mouth turns up. The side opposite Elle, so she can’t see.

Most people are predictable. She always surprises me.

“Aside from the pool?”

“Yeah. It’s big. Too big. My mom doesn’t know what to do with Rose’s room because there’s already so much extra space.”

“Put a pool in there.”

When I glance over, she’s smiling. My chest squeezes.

“Yeah. I’ll suggest it.”

“They’ll have another empty room next year.”

Unlike me, Elle’s headed to college. One of the best schools in the country, I’m sure. That difference in our futures didn’t seem as relevant freshman year. Adulthood looked far away. Now, it seems glaring. Imminent.

“I’m planning on coming back though.”

“Yeah?”

From what she’s told me, Elle’s relationship with her parents has always been strained. And it got worse when her older sister died five years ago. They expect perfection from Elle, like it’s her responsibility to make up for their loss. If I were her, I’d leave this town and never look back.

“Yeah,” she replies. “There are a few things I like about Fernwood.”

“Like what?” I ask, genuinely curious.

We reach her car, the color and model standing out among the other cars parked on the street.

Rather than unlock it, Elle climbs over the side of the convertible and stays standing in the passenger seat. Her alarm is useless because it doesn’t go off.

“Like driving a convertible in the snow,” she tells me, leaning against the top of the windshield. She fishes her car keys out of her pocket and spins them around on one finger. “You?”

“Me what?”

“Is there anything you like about this town?” Elle holds my gaze, appearing far less drunk than I thought she was. Her head tilts in the same direction as the rest of her body, studying me closely as she waits for a response.

I didn’t see this choice coming. I was enjoying talking to her without looking ahead at the approaching split.

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