I watch Jamie leave the shop with his two friends, a feeling of complete failure unraveling into my nervous system. Now that he's gone, I can finally breathe again. It's not a breath of relief though, but rather, a breath of regret.

This was not at all how I've hoped our first real interaction after five years would go down. I'd wanted to initiate things, apologize and then hug it out, but his arrival at the ice cream shop threw me completely off. I'd greeted him like everything was hunky-dory. Of course that rubbed him the wrong way. I can't say I'm surprised at his coldness. I deserve it. But, I'd planned on being a little more sympathetic about his feelings. I wanted him to understand that I knew he was angry, and I wanted him to know that it was okay.

Instead, I'd brushed it off with a stupid 'hi' and a 'how are you?' If he didn't loathe me before, then I'm certain he does now. How ignorant could I be?

In a way, I feel as if I've just lost any chance of reconciliation.

I slump into the stool behind the counter, leaning my head back against the wall behind me. A moment later, the brunette—Peggy, I believe—returns. I didn't even realize that the blonde girl was still here until I see Peggy return to their table, diving immediately into some sort of serious, hushed conversation.

I can't make out a word, and I don't really care what they're talking about. My mind is too wrapped up in my own problems. My thoughts drift back to my childhood and the friendship Jamie and I once shared. He was always there for me. In a school of a couple hundred kids—tiny, I know—it was always just the two of us. We had other 'back up' friends; people we'd hang out with if one of us couldn't make to school one day, but typically, it was just the two of us.

We met in third grade—he was in fourth—and we bonded like chocolate to milk. Back then there was no stress about feelings. We played in the dirt together, climbed trees together, and trusted each other. Neither of us could have ever predicted how things would turn out.

Truthfully, I hate myself for not saying goodbye. My grandma had had a heart attack, and my mom, thinking she might not have time to waste, threw three suitcases together and booked the first flight out of the US. We were in Thailand within forty-eight hours of learning about my grandma's declining health.

There was no way we could have known that she'd bounce back and last another four years before her heart gave out on her for good. It's not that I regret being there for her, I just regret not calling Jamie to tell him the situation. Life had been a hurricane of nerves and panic from my mom, and my dad and I had taken it upon ourselves to create the most calming environment that we possibly could.

By the time I found a second to contact Jamie, it'd already been a week. My mistake then was sending him a Facebook message, informing him that I was gone. He'd responded almost instantly, his reply urgent with a sense of panic woven into the simple message of 'what the heck, Lynn? Why didn't you say anything?'

I'd explained our situation, which he forgave quickly, and then told him we'd probably be back within a few months. But as the weeks past, and our interactions became less frequent, it became more and more difficult to stay in touch. He grew distant, his messages short and emotionless. I knew I'd screwed up. He'd given up waiting for me to return and there was nothing I could do about it.

Within nine months, the contact ended completely. I'd uttered a meek 'hello' to him the first time I'd seen him at the beginning of this school year—to which he blatantly ignored—but other than that, today has been the first time we've communicated since we stopped talking.

I guess I should be thankful that he didn't see me and turn right around on his heels. The fact that he'd spoken to me, with only a hint of animosity in his tone, should have given me a surge of hope, but it didn't. Maybe I was too hopeful about our friendship, but I'd dreamed of things going so much differently.

When my shift finally ends, I'm in a foul mood. It's not uncommon. My moods are either high or low, though I try my best to stay manageable even when all I want to do is flip off the entire world. Guess I got my anger issues from my dad. He's a teddy bear of a man, that's how most people view him, but I see him as more like a volcano. He's calm and harmless until rage sets in and then he combusts. Thankfully, I don't combust. I just put on a scowl and grumble beneath my breath until people learn to leave me alone.

My mom must sense my mood when I get home. Rather than urging me to help in the kitchen, she takes one look at my face and points her thumb at the stairs.

"homework," she orders in Thai, not bothering to ask about my day.

"Wise woman," I say, hopping the stairs two at a time and throwing open my bedroom door.

I throw my bag on the floor and then begin rummaging through my desk. My fingers skim over scraps of paper, and meaningless trinkets before finding the owl necklace shoved in the back. It had been a gift from Jamie for my tenth birthday. It was the last gift I'd received from him, and it meant the world to me. I rubbed my thumb over the greenish tone of the fake silver nestled in my palm. The shine had worn off years ago, but my love for the piece of jewelry hadn't.

He'd cared for me once, there had to be a chance that he might care again.

———

I watch the ball dance back and forth like a pendulum. It's the same feeling that's dancing beneath my chest as I stare at the back of Jamie's head. At some point, he's gonna turn around and that will be the moment that the blade slices open the throat of my heart. I just don't think I can manage the look in his eyes today after our less than pleasant encounter yesterday.

It's Saturday, and rather than comic books and TV shows, I'm sitting in the sun watching Justine battle out a game of tennis. I encourage my thoughts to float around meaninglessly, hoping that they'll settle anywhere but on Jamie, but it's hopeless. I just want to get him off my mind, but it's impossible when he's right there.

Just a few seats below me on the bleachers, there he sits, his laughter fluttering up to grace my eardrums in between cheers and shouts of school spirit. There's not much of a crowd, but the few dozen people scattered around sure know how to make a racket.

Justine's competition today is Peggy—or whatever her name is. They've been going at it for forty minutes now and I'm already bored. I like tennis well enough, but sports of all kinds are just not my thing. I'm only here because I'm a superb friend... and because I secretly love concession stand food. You can't go wrong with Nachos! As fake as the cheese is, it makes my tongue happy, and right now being happy is what I need.

I shove another disgusting Cheddar-covered tortilla chip in my mouth, savoring the artificial taste. I hate myself for delighting in this junk so much, but I can't help it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rosa's ninja hand as it attempts to sweep in and steal one of my precious chips. I slap her hand away, growling as I wrap an arm around my precious snack.

"No touchy," I say, shooting her a warning glare.

"Rude," is her simple response as she returns her gaze to the game.

I wait a few seconds before I feel safe enough to remove my arm. Rosa looks bored as she sits beside me, her eyes swinging between the tennis court and then down to her phone every few seconds. I haven't a clue who she might be chatting with, because, other than Justine and I, I'm pretty sure Rosa has no other friends—as is her preference.

Without a threat of any food being stolen, I glance back up at the game, only to find Jamie staring at me. Our eyes lock for half a second, my heart locking itself in place beneath my chest as I stop breathing, and then his eyes are falling away from mine as he swivels back around. As much as I'd like to convince myself that he was looking for me, I can tell that his eyes must have just drifted over me as he'd searched the area. Because, when he turns back around, I see him continue his search of the area, though he never turns back in my direction again.

That's when I realize that one of Jamie's guy friends is missing from the group—no doubt the person he was really looking for. My heart continues to rattle beneath my rib cage even though all he did was glance at me. I suck in a steadying breath, forcing myself to regain my composure.

It's only when the rush of adrenaline in my ears diminishes that I hear the crunching beside me. My eyes flicker to Rosa to find her munching on a bulging mouthful of chips, a smudge of cheese slicked across her cheek.

She turns a sly grin in my direction, taking extra care to prove she's chewing my chips as she exaggerates each chomping motion of her jaw, and then she turns to face the game again.

"I hate-chu," I grumble beneath my breath, scooting a foot away from her and knocking my hip into the guy beside me. "Sorry," I mutter, though I don't bother moving away.

"It's fine, Lynn," he says, smiling down at me as he eyes the lack of distance between us, and then he shifts his eyes back up to watch the tennis match.

This is a small school, so it's no surprise that he knows my name. I'm pretty sure his name is Trey or something close to that. I've never really talked to the guy, but when you spend almost every day of your life around the same two-hundred people, you start to learn who people are—even if you don't know them.

"Want some?" I offer, lifting my Nachos up to him as I turn my head and capture Rosa's attention. She watches the exchange, her brows creased in annoyance as I smile in victory.

"What?" she huffs. "You give him some, but not your best friend?"

"Yep," I say, grabbing a chip and popping it in my mouth. "I like him better."

Trey glances down at me, grabbing a chip and slowly pushing it between his lips, his eyes locking with Rosa's as he plays along. He moans dramatically around the cheesy snack, his eyes closing as he deliberately chews with the intention of irritating Rosa.

"I hate you both," she grumbles, slinging her hood up over her head and crossing her arms over her chest.

Trey and I share a quick glance before busting up laughing. The sound must carry down the bleachers because when I open my eyes again, I find the smoldering gaze of Jamie Gallagher... only this time, his eyes definitely intended to find mine. And he's clearly unhappy.

I could psyche myself up by convincing my mind that he's unhappy about me laughing unabashedly with another guy, but I know the truth. He just hates seeing me happy.

But, rather than wipe the smile off my face in shame of being caught, I continue to smile... only now, it's directed straight at Jamie himself.

---

Gosh, I'm getting excited about this story. Just a few more chapters before something BIG happens. Who's ready?!?

Thoughts on this chapter? <3