Taughannock Falls boasted a tremendous drop of more than two hundred feet, measuring slightly taller than Niagara Falls. Unconvinced, I looked up from the bronze plaque asserting this fact and studied the waterfall with a critical eye. We'd had a monstrous thunderstorm just a few days ago, and water flowed steadily from the upper creek to the boulders and pool below. Though it lacked Niagara's volume, it was an impressive sight.

"I heard someone died down there," a girl standing a few feet away said to the guy she was with. "You're not supposed to cross the barrier," she added, pointing to the NO CROSSING sign. "There was a rockslide the size of a house. Some say her ghost walks the trails at night."

The guy wrapped his arms around her waist and stuck his tongue in her ear, making her shriek. "There's no such thing as ghosts," he said.

"Says you." She wiggled out of his arms and thrust her cell in his hand. "Take a picture of me?"

Leaning against the wooden guardrail, she struck a pose with one hand on her hip and her other arm thrown wide to capture the background. When they were done, they left in the direction of the trail. I watched as they disappeared around the bend.

John brushed against my shoulder. "What's so fascinating?"

"Huh? Oh. Nothing." Only then did I realize I'd been staring at the couple. I didn't tell John they reminded me of the ghosts of my past, of Zach and me. John nodded toward the trail, eyebrows raised in an invitation, and we began walking again.

"Do you believe what she said?" he asked, after a moment of silence.

I walked with my head down, making sure I didn't trip on any rocks or protruding tree roots. "About the rockslide? Yeah. I remember hearing about it."

"I meant about the ghost. And . . . other paranormal beings, for that matter. Do you believe in such things?"

I laughed. "You're joking, right?"

"I believe anything is possible."

I stopped, and so did he. "So you're telling me you believe in ghosts?"

John looked around, as though he might find the answer in the surrounding trees. "I believe there are things in this world to which most people remain happily oblivious. That, or they convince themselves otherwise as they try to assign logic to the illogical. "

I smiled and resumed walking. "I'll take that as a yes."

A light spray had been rolling off the waterfall. Combined with the high humidity of the afternoon, my clothes clung to my skin. Out of habit, I reached a hand to my head, worried that my painstakingly straightened hair had frizzed from all the moisture. I touched one of the springy curls, only then remembering I'd worn it natural.

John reached out to stretch a curl before letting it go. The tendril coiled tightly at my temple like a snake ready to strike. "I like it better this way," he said.

I made a face. "I don't. Olivia's got beautiful stick-straight hair. I've been jealous of it since the first time I met her. Seriously, girls with straight hair do not know how good they've got it."

Squinting one eye, John tilted his head as though to gain a different perspective, and I froze under the scrutiny of his gaze. "It suits you," he insisted. "You shouldn't change it."

I grinned. "I'll keep that in mind."

**********

John drove me home a few hours later with a promise to see me soon. My parents' car was in the driveway, so he decided not to come inside on account that bringing home a new guy so soon after breaking up with Zach might raise a few brows. I didn't disagree and let him kiss my cheek goodbye.

Dropping my purse on the small table by the front door, I picked up Zach's bouquet of sunflowers still lying there wrapped in cellophane. My heart constricted at the memory of his thoughtfulness, but there were bound to be a few casualties in the course of a breakup. I really needed to stop beating myself up about him and instead come to terms with the decision that I had made, however irrational it still seemed.

Trimming the stems at the sink, I arranged the flowers in a clear glass vase before placing it on the counter and standing back to admire the arrangement. Did I feel guilty about how I'd left things with Zach? Absolutely. Did I think hanging out with John was questionable? Maybe a little. But I also wasn't going to barricade myself in my room and mourn what Zach and I once had.

I found my parents lounging by the pool out back, each with their attention buried in a book. My mother looked up at the sound of the French doors opening.

"Hey!" she said, her face brightening. "Did you and Zach get everything worked out?"

My sandals clacked against the stone patio as I made my way to the table, where I poured myself a glass of iced tea. I snagged a cucumber slice from the assortment of finger foods that had been laid out.

"Blake?" my mother said when I didn't answer. I couldn't ignore her forever, but I could for at least the next few seconds. "Did you and Zach patch things up?"

Turning, I stared wordlessly at my mother as I polished off the last of the cucumber, not entirely sure how to break the news that I hadn't been with Zach like she thought.

"Zach and I are not back together."

She pulled her sunglasses down her nose and stared over the rim at me, the corners of her mouth turned down. "Didn't he come by earlier?"

"Yes, but—"

"Your note said you were going out," she interrupted. "You've been gone for hours. I assumed Zach picked you up since your car was still here."

"I did go out. Just not with Zach . . ." I said, my voice trailing off.

My father finally looked up from his book. "Who'd you go out with?"

"Hmm?"

"With whom did you go out?" he said, enunciating his words.

"Oh. No one you know," I answered.

The conversation was quickly heading in a direction I did not want it to go, so I turned my back on them and began fixing a plate of tiny sandwiches and cut fruit. They'd likely find out about John soon enough, even sooner if Zach blabbed to his overprotective mommy about what had happened, and then his mom blabbed to mine. Which she undoubtedly would.

"No one we know?" my dad echoed.

I shrugged with as much nonchalance as I could muster and headed for the door, plate and drink in hand. "Just a friend I hooked up with yesterday at the lake."

"Oh. Okay," my mother said with a twinge of uncertainty. "Bring her by at some point so we can meet her."

"Sure." I would have promised them a kidney at that point just to get out of there.

Placing his book on the small side table, my dad stood and stretched his arms over his head. "Care to get your fins wet, Blake?"

I shot him an indulgent smile. My dad fervently believed that the more he pestered me about swimming, the better my chances of one day giving in, and yet my answer was always the same.

"Not today, Dad."

He stepped onto the first step, wincing exaggeratedly at the cold. "Fine, but one of these days you'll have to make a choice, Blake. And then it'll be sink or swim."

**********

Two days went by and not a peep from John. Two days that I spent avoiding my mother's constant, questioning gaze. Two days of berating myself for breaking up with Zach to go out with a guy who, apparently, had already lost interest.

I didn't breathe a word about my situation to Olivia, or anyone else. How could I? I'd made a mess of things, not to mention a complete fool of myself and Zach. I'd never felt so stupid or humiliated. To make matters worse, Zach's best friend Gabe unexpectedly stopped by.

"I thought you and Olivia had plans this afternoon," I said with feigned interest as he pushed his way inside my house.

Gabe and I tolerated each other only out of respect for Olivia and Zach. We'd been natural enemies since the second grade after he wiped a booger on my arm and got all the boys to laugh and say I had cooties. He never apologized, and I never got over it.

"You and I need to talk," he said. He stood with his hands fisted at his sides, as though he didn't know what to do with them when they weren't holding a football.

"What about?"

"For starters, what's your problem?"

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Why'd you break up with Zach?"

"My relationship with Zach is none of your business."

"Yeah, it is. He's my best friend. If I broke up with Olivia, you'd want answers, too."

I refrained from pointing out that it would probably be Olivia who broke up with Gabe, and that I was praying for the day she finally came to her senses.

"I take it Zach's still upset?"

Gabe looked at me as though I were dumb. "Do you know what it's like seeing a quarterback piss and moan about a girl? It's pathetic. And it's all your fault."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "For your information, when two people break up, the fault is mutual."

"Mutual, my ass. What did Zach ever do to you?"

I opened my mouth to say exactly what Zach had done and then closed it again. Zach had only ever treated me like a queen. He'd certainly never done anything to warrant getting his heart trampled.

I squared my shoulders. "Zach's and my relationship is none of your business," I repeated. "I don't have to explain myself to you, so you can just go now and leave me alone."

An angry flush crept up Gabe's thick neck, flooding the broad plains of his face. "You're such a bitch," he said, turning for the door.

My mouth fell open. I'd gone seventeen years without anyone using that word about me, and yet I'd been called it twice in the span of a few days, by two different guys. Granted, they probably weren't in the best position to judge, but it still hurt.

"And by the way," he said before I could say anything in response, "your hair looks like shit."

As Olivia and I were Facetiming later that evening, I told her everything that had happened with Gabe. "And then he criticized my hair!" I said.

Olivia laughed. "No, he didn't!"

"I wouldn't make that up, Libby. Didn't he say anything to you?"

"Not a thing," she said. "So, he was seriously trying to defend Zach's honor?"

"I guess."

"That's sort of sweet."

"No, it's not!"

She laughed again. "Don't get so upset. You know how Gabe is."

"Why are you laughing?" I demanded. "It's not funny. What do you even see in an interfering ass like him, anyway? I swear he's the dumbest mistake you've ever made."

Silence, and then: "You know what, Blake? Bite me."

The session disconnected.

Olivia and I avoided each other the entire next day, and I grew angrier at her silence by the minute. She was supposed to be my best friend. She was supposed to take my side, not Gabe's. So when my phone finally rang, I half expected it to be her calling to apologize.

"Sorry I didn't call sooner," John said when I answered.

I counted to three before speaking. "Who's calling, please?"

"Ha ha," John said. "I guess I deserve that."

"Don't worry about it. It's not like I was sitting around waiting for your call," I said, though actually, I had been doing just that.

"Something unexpected came up."

"What kind of something?"

"Do you remember me mentioning a guy named Ian?"

"Yeah."

"He showed up the other day. Unannounced. He's staying with me. I don't know for how long, but he's here."

"Cool," I said, not understanding what any of this had to do with me.

John's sigh came over the line like the sound of breath on a windowpane. "I only called to say that I've been thinking about you—a lot—and that I hope you'll come to a concert on campus with us this evening. I was planning on asking you anyway, but now that Ian is here . . ."

I was dying to get out of the house. I'd been bored out of my mind lately and a concert sounded perfect. Between my lackluster love life and unresolved rift with my best friend, I suddenly had a lot of free time on my hands.

"Sounds fun," I said. "I can meet you there. What time?"

"We'll pick you up."

"I don't mind driving," I said, thinking of my parents. I wasn't ready for them to meet John yet or to explain who he was to me. I wasn't entirely sure I could answer that question myself.

"No, we'll pick you up. Can you be ready by six?"

I glanced at the clock. Two hours was more than enough time. "Absolutely."

"Great. I'll see you then."

Hanging up, I sat on the edge of the bed thinking. I didn't need two hours to get ready, but I definitely needed time to figure out how to persuade my parents to make themselves scarce for the evening, otherwise, this could get very complicated. The less they knew about John, the better. 

*****

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