Page 13 of Until Forever Falls

I keep moving forward, but his apology clings to me, like a futile attempt trying to fix what’s irreparably broken.

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

It’s everything and nothing.

6

Dylan

Then

Slipping into a desk at the back of the room, I try to stay out of sight in my first-period visual arts class. But it doesn’t take long for a petite blonde near the front to notice me. While she’s chatting with her friends, their eyes repeatedly flicker in my direction, and I hear soft giggles ripple through their group.

Great. Here we go again. Being the new kid feels like a broken record—same anxiety, different school, and the same snarky smiles from the same kind of girls.

Much to my irritation, she walks over, her tone laced with a curious edge. “What’s your name?”

“Dylan,” I reply, keeping my voice even. “Yours?”

“Chloe.” She tilts her head, studying me. “Where are you from?”

“Wyoming.”

She lets out a small laugh, swaying slightly as she glances back at her friends. “A mountain girl, huh? I should’ve guessed.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

“Well,” she says, her grin growing a little too stiff, “welcome to Rockport.”

“Thanks.” I force a smile in response, but it feels just as fake as hers.

Brooks steps into the room, and like a magnet, my focus snaps to him. It’s been days since the bonfire, and despite my best efforts, I can’t stop replaying that night in my mind. He strides in like he owns the place, and it’s ridiculous how his presence unconsciously commands everyone’s attention.

He’s even more striking in the daylight—maybe because the morning sun filters in just right, casting shadows along his jawline, making him look like he stepped out of a movie.

His medium-length hair, touched with auburn hues and effortlessly wavy, catches the light as he moves. A fitted navy-blue T-shirt peeks out from beneath a crisp flannel, the fine stitching and tailored fit making it clear it’s expensive—without trying too hard. The deep blue intensifies the sharp green of his eyes, making them stand out more.

Dimples flash when he glances around, and I fight the urge to smile as he heads straight for the empty seat beside me, my heart picking up pace.

“Damn, look who it is!” The natural ease in Brooks’ voice sparks a flutter of self-consciousness in me, like maybe I’m the only one who didn’t get the memo on how to act normal in this situation.

Chloe’s gaze bounces between the two of us, her surprise written all over her face. “Brooks, you know Dylan?” she asks, her voice slightly higher, like she’s trying to figure out if this is just some weird coincidence or something more.

The look he gives her is telling—like he wasn’t expecting the question, or didn’t think she’d be bold enough to ask it. “Yeah,” he says, with a small shrug, like it’s nothing big. “We met at the bonfire.”

Chloe’s eyes darken with irritation, suspicion clouding her expression. “That’s funny—I don’t remember seeing you there,” she says, her tone clipped as she zeroes in on me.

“I wasn’t there long,” I admit, a little defensive, suddenly feeling like I’m breaking some kind of unspoken social code.

Chloe’s expression doesn’t shift much, but there’s something strangled in her voice. “Oh. Bummer. Well, next time, I’ll make sure you meet everyone. We’re a pretty tight group.” The smile she gives me is like the edge of a blade wrapped in silk.

I force a polite one back. “Looking forward to it.”

Just then, the teacher steps into the room, calling for everyone’s attention, and I can’t help but silently thank fate for putting an end to that painfully awkward moment. Brooks nudges my foot, a slight press against the side of my sneaker, but it’s enough to send a jolt of awareness through me.

“She’s a real sweetheart, huh?” he whispers.

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