Page 48 of My Star-Crossed Summer

“A couple of summers ago. He’s divorced again, and seeing someone new I think. He calls me out of the blue sometimes,asking to meet up, but it always falls through. A few months ago we were supposed to have lunch, but he never showed. Called me three days later and said his friend had invited him on some big-deal fishing trip and we could try again soon.” I snort, combing my fingers through the grass. “I sat in that tiny restaurant all afternoon, thinking he’d blow in eventually, with some wild story that would explain his delay. I haven’t heard from him since.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “You deserve better than that.”

I shrug. “Every time he calls, I tell myself not to get my hopes up. We make plans, and he’s all in until his friend invites him to a fancy party, or some work colleague gets tickets on the fifty-yard line.” I’ve lost count of how many times he’s flaked out on me. “I’m used to it,” I tell her. “I’m the guy people stay with until someone better comes along, remember?”

“Noah,” she says, her voice low. “That’s one hundred percent false.”

“It’s a pattern,” I explain. “Since as long as I can remember, all the way back to second grade, when Sally Ann Burton asked me to be her boyfriend and then dumped me the second Trevor Elliot kissed her on the playground.” That familiar ache is back in my chest, as persistent as a ticking clock. “Friends in high school. Every woman I dated for more than a month. Pretty soon it was everyone.”

Her hand finds mine in the darkness, and that tiny gesture is enough to make my pulse kick up again. Her thumb slides against my inner wrist and I’m certain she can feel it, too.

“After that I just expected everyone to leave eventually,” I tell her. “It was easier to keep people at a safe distance and not get too close.” And then Victoria came along, and it was easy to be close to her. I was in love with her before I knew what hit me, but I was terrified that she’d leave me, too. I told myself that I kept my feelings secret because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship—but really, I was just trying to protect myself so I wouldn’t be shattered when she left me.

“Well obviously this Sally kid made a fatal error,” she says. “I’m sure second-grade Noah was a catch, too.” She gives me a good-natured smile, her foot bumping against mine. “Because you are, Noah. You’re the most genuinely good person I’ve ever known.”

I lean back, staring up at the stars twinkling above us. Dr. Cassie’s down at the center of the amphitheater, still talking about a comet that’s headed our way this fall, and how it’s supposed to be the brightest one in three decades.

“For the record,” Victoria says, her voice a whisper, “I made a fatal error, too.” She squeezes my hand, and the heat from her touch zips down to my toes. “I didn’t want things to end between us,” she says. “I never wanted to leave you.”

I clench the fingers of my other hand in the grass, wishing I could pull her close, whisper into her ear all these truths that I’ve been hiding from her for so long.

“I panicked,” she says. “I didn’t want you to take that trip with Samantha. I wanted you to choose me, but you chose her instead. And it just hurt too much to be near you, knowing that you didn’t want me the way I wanted you.”

“Vic,” I whisper, squeezing her hand. “I always wanted you.”

Her eyes widen in the dim light. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

An ache tugs deep in my chest. “I didn’t dare let myself think you might feel the same. Because I couldn’t stand to watch you leave me, too—when someone better came along.”

She blinks at me, lips parted like she’s trying to find the right words. Applause erupts around us, and I realize that the program’s over. Vic’s gaze flicks to the kids, who are already jumping to their feet, and then she gives me a look that makes those tight coils around my heart loosen.

It’s a look that says,We’re not done here.

Chapter Fifteen

VICTORIA

Noah Valentine has scrambled my brain. I’m supposed to be focused on these kids and making sure they have three weeks of amazing summer camp that they’ll never forget. I’m supposed to be making sure they’re safely shuttled from location to another, that their skinned knees are bandaged and their food allergies aren’t forgotten, and all I can think about is Noah: his devastating smile, his eyebrows that are so emotive it hurts, and the tender way he looks at me.

I always wanted you,he said.

I never saw it back in college, and now I know why: because I didn’t think it could be true. I’d been trained to see my flaws front and center, and assumed everyone else saw them, too.

It’s long past midnight, and the kids are finally asleep. It’s been raining steadily since Sophie and I made the last round an hour ago, when the last of the kids’ flashlights had snapped off. Satisfied that everyone was in for the night, Sophie went back to her tent and I went back to mine. And I haven’t been able to stop my racing thoughts since.

After all the activity today, including my panic attack on the bridge, I should be sleeping like a brick. But the moment my eyesclosed, all thoughts went to Noah: the soothing rumble of his voice on the bridge, the warmth of his embrace, the deep green of his eyes as they searched mine.

And then, what he confessed under the stars.

The rain’s heavier now, and my tent is leaking like a sieve. Every few seconds, a raindrop splatters on my cheek, and now I’m aware of every drop that’s falling inside. My sleeping bag’s covered in a thin sheen of water, my pillow damp. By morning, everything in this tent will be soaked, including me.

Awesome.

My phone reads 1:37 am. My body’s exhausted, but my brain won’t let go of these thoughts of Noah Valentine. When I close my eyes and count backward from a hundred, I don’t even make it to eighty before I’m thinking about him again—how he clutched my hand in the grass by the amphitheater but it felt like he was holding every part of me. The way he whispered in my ear and I could feel it deep in my chest, down to my toes.

How he smiled so sadly when he told me about camping with his dad, and how he lit up when he told me why this camp was so important to him. How his breath hitched when I slid my hand over his, and how he laced his fingers in mine as if we were holding a secret together.

A raindrop splatters onto my face. And then another. And another. It’s like Mother Nature herself is trying to wash those thoughts of him away, but it’s not working.

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