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That’s it? She’s not going to say anything about what I wrote her? That’s strange, because Paige usually doesn’t know how to shut up half the time, so seeing her so silent is different. “Uh, you’re welcome.”

It’s all I can think about on the walk over to the park, where we decide to go people watch for the rest of the afternoon over some Twinkies. Mom had a stash hidden away in her nightstand, and I snuck two out just for us.

Paige is definitely being overly quiet with me. Maybe I said the wrong thing? Maybe I wrote the wrong thing. It doesn’t take much longer before I finally blurt out what I’m thinking. “So are we not really going to say anything about the book, or . . .?”

Her head whips around faster than that chick in that horror movie who spews green goo out of her face. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, something! Am I being weird, or are you?”

Things are usually really easy between me and Paige, but the past couple of weeks, something has been different, and I know it probably has something to do with when I kissed her and the kisses on the cheek between then and now. I know it can’t just be that. Right?

“I am so not that weird! I don’t know what to say to stuff like that. I’m sorry. It’s really cool what you wrote, and thank you?”

It’s right then that the sun comes through the trees and lights up Paige’s hair like fire. It’s really cool how her hair refracts all this light when all my black hair does is just sit there on my head like some furry spider. I push my hair out of my face and stare at the spot on her head that’s glowing the most, wondering if maybe that’s where people get the inspiration for angels from.

Paige catches me, but I don’t look away because I’m not scared of her. Sometimes, we stare at each other like this, but I think that’s what happens when you know someone as well as we know each other.

“What?” she asks, pulling her knees up under her chin.

I shake my head, not sure how to answer. How do you tell your friend that her hair makes her look like one of those cool fire warriors from the anime you secretly watch when no one else is around? “Nothing.”

She does the thing where she looks out straight in front of her, but I can tell that she’s seeing more than what anyone else is seeing. Sometimes, she gets this way where she’s lost in her thoughts and you have to really dig around to pull her out of them. “Do you believe in fate, Elijah?”

“Like everything’s already planned out for us? Well, my mom believes in God, and I think she thinks God has a plan for us. She says it all the time, anyway. I don’t know. Do you?”

“Sometimes. I guess it depends. I think it’s fate when it comes to people. Like people are meant to know each other, be friends, even. Or more. Stacey thinks that our future is always our future, no matter what. Like we can never change it or anything. I think that’s kind of scary. What if I don’t like what I know the future’s going to make happen?”

“What do you think is gonna happen?”

She lays her head gently up against my shoulder, and I feel like something is about the swallow us both whole. Even though I kissed her before, this feels even more different.

“I don’t know. It’s the future! No one knows for sure. I know what I want to happen, but I’m not lucky like that.”

“You want to know what I want to happen in the future? I can see it now,” I say, spreading my hands out in front of both of us. “Big fancy house. One of those cool sports cars I’ve always wanted, like from a long time ago, back when cars were really made of metal. Going on tour, traveling everywhere, and staying up late every night to party. You know why?”

Paige laughs. “Why?”

“Because I would be a freaking rock star, that’s why. I don’t care what the future says. I’m going to make it happen whether the future says so or not. I just have to learn how to play guitar, learn how to drum, learn how to sing, all that stuff. Piece of cake.”

She turns to look at me, and here I am again, getting caught back into the staring contest we always have. When she tilts her head to one side, I take that as my cue and lean in. Paige’s lips taste like candy, so she must be wearing that Chapstick that tastes like gummy bears again. Her kiss turns into a smile, and when she pulls away, everything else in my vision around her kind of goes dark.

“Can I go on tour with you?”

I lean in one more time for another kiss, this one a little longer than the last. Seriously, kissing Paige is like tasting the best freaking thing in my life, but it’s way more fun than just eating it. I lick my lips when I pull back again. “I wouldn’t go without you.”

I
t’s too hot
. I’m already over living here because it’s so hot. Mom would never make me live somewhere that’s basically like living in hell, only brighter and sunnier. After I run to the mailbox and open it for the hundredth time today so far, I nearly jump out of my shoes when I realize this time, the mail has actually come. And the fancy envelope with my name on it in pretty handwriting is the only thing I manage to grab before running straight to my room.

“Finally,” I say as I rip open the letter. It’s only been two weeks since I moved in with my dad, but it’s been the longest two weeks of my life.

My eyes scan through each word slowly, trying to make it past the loops and lines that always make my head hurt. Hopefully, I can keep working on reading and writing without Paige here to help me.

E
lijah
,

Oh my god, Stacey is so ridiculous! Sorry. I mean HI! I hope everything is going okay in Texas. When are you coming to visit us? For Christmas break, right?

So my sister just got caught making out with her new boyfriend under the bleachers. Can you believe it? I don’t know why anyone wants to kiss her when she’s always kissing everyone else. It’s so dumb. Any time I’ve ever kissed you, I didn’t want to kiss anyone else. I don’t know why she’s so weird.

Mama told me that she heard from your dad. I heard you have a huge room now! Man, you are so lucky! Tell me all about it. Actually, call me and tell me, but make sure it’s not after 7 pm your time because I can’t get phone calls after 8 pm here. That’s so cool that we live in different times. It’s almost like I’m living in the future. So when you become a big rock star, I’ll know it before you!

I miss you. Don’t do the dumb boy thing and pretend you didn’t read that. It’s true. I do. I keep reading your note in my Shakespeare book over and over. Since you want to know my favorites and you want me to read them to you, you’ll have to call me to find out!

Anyway, I g2g. Mama wants me to help make dinner tonight. Hurry and write me back with your new number. I want to hear your voice because it sucks when you aren’t here for me to hear it in person.

-P

B
y the third
ice cream sandwich, I know I’ve made a grave mistake. My stomach rumbles in protest, telling me that maybe binge-watching bakery murder-mysteries and eating too much junk food don’t go hand in hand. You would think I’d learn this after the eleven billion other times I’ve done it. What’s that quote about the true definition of insanity, again?

The past day has pretty much been on a loop. Wake up, get junk food to eat on the couch, watch all the TV I can before I pass out. Wake up, get more junk food to eat in bed, watch all the Netflix I can on my laptop before I pass out, possibly wearing the same clothes from yesterday. It’s pathetic, and I pretend that I’m someone else because the Paige Sullivan I know does not lose her shit in this manner.

In fact, it’s so ridiculous that I nearly jump out of my skin when my phone rings next to my face. I’m caught off guard to the point where I actually answer the damn thing instead of hitting the silent button. I probably should’ve looked at the name and face that scrolled across the screen, but I didn’t. “Hello?”

“Paige?”

I freeze, everything inside me as solid as a block of ice. “Elijah. What are you? What are you calling me for?”

A strained relief runs through me when he laughs softly into the phone. “Trying to apologize for being such a jackass to you, what else?”

And for the first time in however many days it’s been—because honestly, who can keep track, at this point—I’m able to breathe. “You? A jackass? No way.” And apparently, I’m also able to have jokes.

“Yep. I deserve that, and I’m really sorry. I know I screwed everything up with you when I left, and I made it worse by not even bothering to call you and let you know what was going on. Once I got everything straightened out, I wanted to take a little bit of time to myself. I hope you don’t mind. There’s a lot to . . . think through.”

I raise my brow. “A lot to think through? What exactly happened? And oh my God! How is Kevon? Is he going to be okay? Sorry I’m throwing all these questions at you.” Leave it to me to completely bypass the most important part.

“You were right. You were right the whole damn time, and I was just too blind to see it. My dad is a total fucking psycho, and he lied about everything. Kevon was never in a coma. He wasn’t even hurt. You can imagine how much of a dipshit I looked like when I called him and he answered his phone like nothing ever happened. Because nothing did happen. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, that I didn’t trust your instincts. I should have, because mine have obviously been fucked up.”

I stand straight up, because what else am I supposed to do? I’ve got to move, got to do something. My ears are ringing, and I have to shake my hands out. There’s that weird psychic thing again. “I’m so sorry, Elijah. I wish I weren’t right. That’s so beyond anything I’ve ever heard of. What did you do when you found out? Your dad’s still alive, right?” Believe me, I’m only half-joking.

There’s a funny chuckle on the other end of the line. “Yeah, he’s alive. In fact, I didn’t even lay a single finger on him, can you believe it? I did fire his ass though. So now I’m literally a free-agent, although probably not for long. I’m sure Johnny Maine will find someone who’s willing to stick their neck out for me and become my new agent. Anyone is better than the last one.”

The relief in my heart for Elijah settles in, one small moment at a time, until I’m able to finally smile and imagine him sitting there wherever he is, smiling at me.

“Even still, none of it was an excuse to completely ignore you. I could’ve texted at the very least, and I really don’t know what else to say except that I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Paige.”

My fingers are going numb from bunching up my covers in my hands so tightly. “I guess you’ll have to find a way to make up for it, then,” I joke.

“That’s the other reason I’m calling you, now that you mention it. There’s other stuff I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve arranged for you to fly out here so I can talk to you in person. I would come out there, but I kind of want you to be here for this.”

It’s nearly indescribable, the way I’m feeling. On one hand, Elijah’s words make me feel like I’m flying, a bird in the sky who needs nothing but the wind under her wings. On the other hand, though, I’m being crushed by the weight of his words. I’m not a dummy. There’s something more than just what’s on the surface when Elijah speaks. Maybe it’s because I can’t decide whether he wants to officially break it off with me.

“Then I’ll be there.”

–

I
magine my surprise
when I hop out of the backseat of the car Elijah sent to pick me up at the airport and walk down the long driveway to Elijah’s house, only to see my exact favorite car sitting right in front of the doorstep. The baby blue color is how I always imagined it to be, and I’ve only imagined it in my head because it just doesn’t exist, not in real life. Yet here it is, right in front of my very eyes.

The round edges of the body remind me of my own, in fact, and as I walk closer, I see the pretty black leather interior that I’ve always pictured, too. To say I’m confused is the understatement of the year.

My head and heart fill up with the kind of hope that would be the most excruciating to lose, and I slowly make my way inside, walking past Romina, who has a giant grin on her face and curtsies at me.

I don’t see Elijah, but I do see a trail of proverbial breadcrumbs leading me to the elaborate staircase and up the steps to the top floor. Something’s fluttering in my chest. Maybe that same bird flying high inside me.

“Up here!” Elijah calls down from upstairs.

My feet are lead-filled boots trodding up the stairs, the weight of them making it seem to take forever to make it to the very top. I push extra hard because I can’t hold back any longer. I need to see his face, and I need to see if my beloved psychic tendencies are right this time. Because if they aren’t . . . I’m not sure I’ll be able to face it.

Along the way up, I catch glimpses of old photos lining the walls—photos of his mom, even the rare photo of him and his dad, both in football gear. Photos of him and Kevon with their first jerseys held up proudly in front of them. But it’s the one at the very top, the one that’s in a large frame, set apart from the rest of them, that makes me stop in my tracks.

When I was here last, it was a pretty quick jump from downstairs to Elijah’s bed, if I recall correctly, which of course, I do. I recall every single second of that night
perfectly
. But somehow, I don’t remember seeing this one photo, and I know I would remember if I did.

It’s a photo of me, my long red hair pulled into a braid along my back, and I’m sitting on one of the old rocks in the woods by the park where we used to meet up when we were kids. I’m facing away from the camera so you can’t see my face, but I remember the day as if it were yesterday. It was the day before everything in Elijah’s world was turned upside down—the day before Maureen died. Elijah had just given me my early birthday present, a copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets, and in my hand in front of me, not pictured, is the book. I’m reading the note he wrote to me, scrawled in one of the corners of the front flap. I don’t remember Elijah taking the picture, or even having a camera, actually, but he was pretty stealthy like that when he wanted to be. I can’t exactly say I’m surprised, although it’s surreal to see a memory like that one played back right in front of my eyes.

I round the corner and head straight toward Elijah’s bedroom, where I think he is, but he calls out for me again, this time coming from the opposite end of the long hallway. “Where are you?” I mutter to myself.

I follow the sound of his voice into a room that literally takes my breath away, Elijah standing in the very middle of it with his hands shoved into his jean pockets.

It’s like someone reached into my very childhood dreams and pulled out the single most sacred wish I had for myself. Then they turned it into reality, building it brick by brick, bookcase by bookcase, filling it with the words of books I hope to one day read.

It’s a library. And not just any library, but the kind of library that a true book lover like myself would have commissioned once they became wealthy enough, filling it with books upon books, shelves upon shelves. Words everywhere. It’s a circular room with one of those fancy rolling ladders that you always see in the movies. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before, but the ceiling is domed, making up the interior of the turret I’ve always noticed on the outside of his house. The ceiling itself is covered in a dazzling mosaic tile of all sorts of colors, colors I don’t even think I’ve seen before. And the floor,
oh my God, the floor
. It’s the most beautiful mosaic tile work. From outside the room, it looks like there’s more red in it, with lovely shades of cream and cool shades of blue, until you get up on it and see that it’s not just any pattern.

It’s a face. A woman’s face, with shining blue eyes and freckles dusted across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Wild red hair flows in tendrils all around the remainder of the floor like copper snakes touching the edges of the bookcases, like a woman on fire.

It’s me.

And when I look up into Elijah’s eyes, I instantly know. Everything I’ve always thought between us, every single memory we’ve ever had all falls aside, and I take in a deep breath. I want to say it
so badly
.

He’s standing there with that smile, that same crooked smile I fell in love with so long ago. “I know it’s not until tomorrow . . . but happy birthday, Paige.”

Holy shit. I had gotten so wrapped up in everything else going on around me that I’d forgotten about my own damn birthday. “Uh, thanks. Thank you. I actually forgot about that.”

He gives me a small smile, already knowing. “I got you a present. How do you like it?”

Confused, I raise a brow at him and then look around the room again. “Like what?”

“Your library. Do you like your library?”