Page 67 of Holly Ever After

Speak, Holly. Stop staring.

“Old memories,” I reply, holding up a photo of a younger version of us at a water park. Mark is there too, of course. We're all grinning like idiots. “Remember this?”

He squats down next to me, his eyes lingering on the picture. “Ah, yes. The summer Mark tried to do a backflip off the high dive and belly-flopped instead. He was red for days.”

“He couldn't sit properly for a week. Mom had to buy him a floaty ring to sit on.”

He picks up another photo. It's of the three of us at my high school graduation. “We were so young.”

“Yeah,” I agree, a softness creeping into my voice. “So full of dreams.”

He meets my eyes. “But you’re living your dream.”

A small smile tilts the corner of my mouth as he looks down and plucks a photo from the box. It looks like there’s a thousand memories playing behind those dark eyes. I shimmy closer to him to get a better look.

It’s an old polaroid, the caption handwritten:New Years Eve, 2014.

I’m sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter in Sean’s childhood home, looking a little worse for wear. I hardly remember that night. I prefer not to remember because it still makes me cringe. Me and alcohol are not friends. But his hand is under my chin, tilting my head back, and we’re both laughing. We look carefree. It’s an intimate moment between two people who look like the younger version of who we’ve been over the last couple of days.

My heart thumps in my chest as his thumb gently moves back and forth over the picture. I feel like I’m looking at a jigsaw puzzle but missing the last piece. He looks…sad?

“You were always so beautiful, Squirt.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

I know I’m fucked because I don’t even mind that damn nickname anymore.

“Do you remember who took this?” I ask, unable to keep my eyes off how the muscles in his jaw tense, pulsing in and out.

“I think it was Jackie.” He doesn’t look up from the photo when he adds, “You left for the city soon after this.”

“Sean?” I breathe, needing to meet his eyes, but he shuts them as he inhales a steadying breath.

“Don’t, Holl,” he whispers, raising his head to look at me.

The atmosphere changes, becoming more intimate, more vulnerable. For the first time, I feel like we're not just looking at each other, but seeing each other.

And it hits me. What I recognize in that photo is the way he looks at me. It’s how he’s looking at me now. It’s probably how I’m looking at him. But it’s also how I looked at him for years when I was a teenager and convinced myself I was in love with Sean.

But that can’t be right.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice strained.

I nod but don't meet his eyes. “Yeah. Just memories, you know?”

He takes my hand and presses a soft kiss to my palm. “Memories can be a double-edged sword.”

Silence settles between us, but it's not uncomfortable. It's the kind of silence you share with someone when words are unnecessary.

“You need to keep these…For old times' sake,” he finally says.

We fall into another silence as he goes through more recent photos, filling in the gaps of the years I was away.

“Proud of you, you know?” He's staring at a photo of a book launch.

My book launch, to be precise.

I raise an eyebrow, a little taken aback. “You are?”

“Of course. You said you were going to do it, and you did.”

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