First week of senior year is in the books. It's nothing like I imagined it would be. I never pictured myself eating lunch alone on the bleachers, avoiding the people I've spent the last three plus years sharing laughs with. I never imagined planning my routes to class and meticulously creating a plan to avoid my best friend at all costs.

I never imagined I'd be so completely alone.

The gentle pops of yellow, purple, and blue fall in front of me as I reach for another sunflower, nestling it between a gathering of delphinium and alstroemeria. The floric aroma settles that ache within my chest, the mindless task of flowers filling a void.

The warm, gentle presence coats me, and I don't have to look up to know that Piper is now by my side. "How was your first week of school?"

I take a breath, focusing on the flowers in front of me, fighting to ignore that tight pull across my chest. It's the very one reminding me what I spent the better part of this week avoiding.

"It was good."

"Just good? It's your first week of senior year, Mackenzie. And you have that gorgeous boyfriend of yours."

My heart sinks at her words, the heat filling my cheeks and burning its way to my chest. I turn away, fastening the bow around the bundle in my hands, holding it out in front of me and spinning it just enough to check all the angles for proper balance.

Flowers are easy. Creating a rhythmic balance of size and color makes sense. There's a bit of a formula to it. But that yanking pit tearing across my abdomen, I don't know what to do with that.

"It was good," I repeat, offering a smile this time. "I have a lot of classes with friends and soccer is already off to a good start. I made captain." That last piece rests against me, reminding me that at least one thing this year is going to plan.

"You did? Mackenzie, that is just wonderful. I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you. Our team is looking really filled out this year. I think it's going to be a great year."

I lift the flowers to my face, taking in the fresh scent, letting it calm the bundled pieces inside of me. When I let them drop down in front of me, I bring my eyes to hers, letting her see the facade of truth dancing elegantly behind trained eyes.

She pauses a moment, waiting to see an opening. But I've perfected this part. "Okay," she relents, offering a small nod.

I give her a small nod in return, turning slowly on my heel and making my way to the door. I make it all of two steps before I pause, that ache returns to my chest when my eyes land on the piano. What I wouldn't give to hear her playing it right now.

But that sound will never fill this space again. Not like it used to. It's a reality I'm forced to face everyday. Sometimes it's the smell of her baking I miss or the warmth of her hugs. Other days it's the joy of her laughter or the simple sound of steps down the hallway.

I swallow the empty void of it all and push myself forward, letting the warm, late morning air hit my skin.

The streets are quiet as I slowly make my way down, a few people just now emerging. The calm of the sidewalk will soon be bustling with families and tourists just as it does every weekend the sun shows itself.

I turn down the small path between the buildings, continuing past the line of trees and slowly climb the small hillside. When I come out the other side, a gentle breeze picks up, clinging to the balmy skin left from my run this morning.

I keep going, my feet hit the pavement, my eyes set clear on my destination. I find my spot, the same one I come to every weekend, falling gently to my knees and taking a deep breath.

"Hey Mom," I whisper, setting down the fresh bundle of flowers. She always did love the simple beauty of a sunflower, claiming they held all the happiness in their hands. I wish I had a bit of that happiness right now, the same bright smile my mom always had when she would pluck a flower from a bundle, taking a long inhale of its scent before passing it down to me.

I take a breath, letting the cool morning air surround me and the distant scent of the ocean fills my senses.

The last few nights have been a jumbled mess of sleeplessness. I've buried myself in my room, jumping ahead on the upcoming assignments teachers introduced. My dad made it home just after nine each night, providing the smallest of a distraction before he closed himself in his office.

I don't blame him for keeping busy. Heck, I think each and every one of us is guilty of the same thing. My oldest brothers left for college and never came back, escaping from everything that still holds her essence.

Jare got lost in baseball, I stayed hidden behind a soccer ball.

And my dad, he threw himself into his work. I don't think he's ever stopped long enough to feel the weight of her loss, to be debilitated by her absence.

"I wish you were here," I say, resting a hand along the earth. "I say that a lot," I continue, a humorless laugh escaping my lips. "Some days, though, it feels like everything would hurt a lot less if you were here. Like maybe you'd have something to say to mend the broken pieces, or maybe you'd just offer a hug. I don't know. But I'm pretty sure I wouldn't feel so shattered if you were here."

I can feel the burn behind my eyes, the tiny pricks of tears fighting to be set free. They don't fall, though. They never fall. Not anymore.

I stay for a few more moments, feeling the slow and steady rise of the sun bringing a blanket of warmth to the ground.

When I finally continue my run back home, I let everything fall beside me. Every bit of pain and panic, of hurt and betrayal. All of it runs off of me, slowly dripping away piece by piece.

I'll be okay. I'm always okay.

I have to be okay.

It's the same set of words that spin around my head, funneling their way to my chest and forcing my ribcage to expand with every breath.

I let it take hold, singing an anthem across my skull, branding itself to my heart and burying everything that wants to fight against it.

I keep it going, again and again. Believing the words as my truth as I turn the corner, taking my last few strides to my house.

That's when I see her, when my words become weak, when everything I've convinced myself of shatters to the ground.

"Hey, Mack," Brittney says, taking a small step toward me. "How was your run?"

"It was fine," I acknowledge, pushing past her and heading for the front steps.

"You've been avoiding me all week," she calls behind me, her quickened steps closing the distance I tried pushing between us. "You haven't answered my calls. You haven't been staying after practice. I tried to find you at lunch but–"

"I've been busy," I quickly respond. The truth is, I've found every excuse in the book not to be in the quad. Study hall, running extra drills on the field, anything to avoid the eyes of the two people who tore my heart straight from my chest.

"Yeah." She nods, dropping her gaze for a moment before taking a breath and bringing her eyes up to mine. "I'm really sorry about what happened."

"Sorry isn't going to fix it, Brit."

She steps forward. "I know. That's why I was hoping to have a chance to explain."

A deep and heavy breath expands my lungs, the desire to hear her out runs so terribly thin and yet, I can't seem to find the words to stop her.

"I fell for him, Mack," she says, taking my hesitancy as permission to continue. Her words fall against my chest, taking that needed gulp of air and holding it hostage within my gut. "I didn't mean to. I never meant to fall for your boyfriend, but I did. I need you to understand–"

"Understand?" A humorless laugh tumbles from my lips before I have time to stop it. "What I need to understand, Brit, is why you didn't come to me when you started to feel this way. Why you didn't tell me what you were feeling or–"

"How would that have worked, Mack? How was I supposed to tell you that the only person who makes me feel is the one person I'm not supposed to have?"

"I don't know, Brittney," I expel, shaking my head at the utter confusion of it all. "But whatever you would have said would have been better than what you did."

"I know," she agrees, taking another step forward as if the space I've put between us is suddenly okay to close. "I do. I never should have let it get that far. But if you think about it, you really never gave him a chance to meet anyone. He moved to town and you're the first person he talked to. And then suddenly you're dating and he never even had a chance to see if maybe there was someone here who was a better fit for him."

Speechless. Everything in me has gone silent. Her words twist inside me, filling every single doubt and fear.

I'm okay.

It's fine.

"Okay," I finally breathe out, letting everything go with that one lousy word.

"Okay?"

"You came here to explain. And I'm assuming to ask my permission to date him. That's where this is going, right?"

Shut down.

Everything in me is clicked off, void of all the things I know I should be feeling.

"I mean, kind of. But–"

"You have my permission."

"I do?" she questions, her words hanging in the air. "Just like that?"

"You're right. It's been me and him since he moved here."

"So, you're okay then?"

"Yeah, Brit." I nod, throwing in a smile. It's the very one I coat the next statement in each and every time it leaves my lips. "I'm fine."

Because I am.

I'm fine.

***

Author Note:

Who's ready to jump into Camden's head?😏🙋‍♀️

Though the majority of this story will take place in Mackenzie's POV, I will be dropping a few in Camden's POV as well. I'll be back next week with the first glimpse into his head!🥰