The abandoned textile factory looms ahead of us, all crumbling red brick and broken windows that catch the afternoon sun like fractured diamonds.

Luna gasps behind me on the bike, her hands securely wrapped around my waist and I know I need to ignore how tingly that makes me feel.

I already know she's itching to grab her camera.

"This place is wow," she breathes I park my bike against a graffitied wall.

Her already big eyes are wide with that photographer's gleam I'm starting to recognize - the one that means she's mentally framing shots, seeing beauty where most people just see trash.

I shouldn't find it as adorable as I do.

"Found it during one of my rides last summer," I say, feeling the urge to let it out. I sling a backpack full of snacks we grabbed from the convenience store over my shoulder. "Pretty sure the local kids use it for parties sometimes, but it's usually empty."

We pick our way through the loading dock, Luna pausing every few steps to examine some interesting patch of rust or the way ivy has reclaimed entire walls.

The main floor is a massive open space with high windows and support columns that create stripes of light across the dusty concrete floor.

"This would make an amazing studio," Luna says, already pulling out her camera.

She does this thing when she's excited -- bounces a little on her toes, like she can barely contain herself.

It makes my heart do weird dips that I really need it to stop doing.

We spread out our impromptu picnic on a relatively clean patch of floor - Doritos, potato chips, those weird organic grape sodas I've noticed Luna loves, and the chocolate chip cookies Sarah gave me with a knowing smirk.

"Rue thinks--"

"Who's Rue?" I cut her off, popping a chip in my mouth.

Luna gasps. "Oh, my sister. How do you not know about her, she's literally all I talk about."

I shake my head. "Not with me."

Luna has never told me anything that's family related and I can't blame her, its not like I've been out here sharing either.

"Well, she's my sister."

"You stay with her?"

"No. With Mom but Dad moved out. They're probably getting a divorce but they're making it painfully slow. Rue is my big sister, she works at some coffe shop and I think she wants to get out of this place."

I huff. Same, I want to say but I just nod.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know.." I trail off, short of words. She is going through so much and I've been all but focused on my own agenda.

"Rue's the only reason I haven't completely lost it," Luna says quietly, picking at the edge of a cookie, her eyes don't meet mine. "Since Dad left, Mom's just... checked out. Like she's physically there, but she's not really present, you know?"

I do know.

More than she realizes. My own dad's presence in my life has become as predictable as a coin toss - sometimes he shows up for me, sometimes he doesn't. Sometimes he remembers my birthday, sometimes the card arrives three weeks late with a generic message and a gift card.

The words are right there on my tongue. I want to tell her about the last meet, how I kept scanning the bleachers between races, how each time I didn't see him felt like missing a hurdle. How I stopped looking after the fourth race.

But I can't.

Because in nine weeks, I'm supposed to walk away from this girl like none of it mattered. Like these moments we're sharing are just marks on a calendar, counting down to an expiration date she doesn't even know exists.

"That must be really hard," I say instead, the guilt settling heavy in my stomach.

Luna shrugs, but I can see the hurt under that.

"Rue says she's going to open the best coffee shop in the city." A small smile plays at her lips. "She really wants to get out of this town."

"Would you go with her?" The question slips out before I can stop it.

Nine weeks, Hayes. You won't be around to know the answer anyway.

"Maybe." She looks up at me through her lashes. "Depends on what's keeping me here."

My heart stutters, and I quickly reach for my backpack. I know where this is going and I'd rather not feel this way. I can't.

"Hey, I brought cards. Ever played Speed?"

The change of subject is about as smooth as a pothole, but Luna lets me have it.

Soon we're sprawled on our stomachs, cards flying between us as we try to outpace each other.

Luna is terrible at it, but she laughs every time I win, and the sound is like music.

"Okay, fine, you win. But," she declares after her fifth straight loss. She's already reaching for her camera. "I want to photograph you in this light."

"No way." But I'm grinning, because she gets this determined set to her jaw when she wants something, and it's stupidly charming.

"Please?" She's already adjusting her settings. "The way the sun's coming through the windows right now... it's perfect. You're perfect."

My heart skips a beat at her words. "Fine. But I'm terrible at photos."

She snorts like I have no idea what I'm talking about.

What follows is possibly the most ridiculous photo shoot in history. I strike exaggerated model poses, pretend to be a superhero, attempt a cartwheel that nearly ends in disaster.

Luna captures it all, her laughter mixing with the click of her shutter.

"Wait, stay just like that," she calls out when I collapse against one of the columns, still giggling from my failed gymnastics attempt.

I freeze, watching her approach with her camera raised.

She lowers the camera, and we're standing so close I can see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes.

"You're beautiful," she whispers.

I breathe, heavy. You're the beautiful one here, I want to tell her but words feel like they're not enough.

So I stay silent, only my eyes dart to her lips. She picks that up and the next thing I know, she has her lips on mine.

Her lips taste like grape soda and chocolate chips. My hands find her waist, pulling her closer as her camera bumps awkwardly between us.

She makes this tiny sound in the back of her throat that sends electricity down my spine, and I'm drowning, I'm falling, I'm-

I'm lying to her.

The thought hits hard , but I can't make myself pull away. Instead, I kiss her harder, like I can somehow make up for my deception with the press of my lips, the slide of my tongue against hers.

When we finally break apart, she rests her forehead against mine, breathing hard. "I really like you, Naomi Hayes."

The words are a knife to my gut because I really like her too. So much that I'm starting to forget this isn't real, that it can't be real.

But my heart isn't listening to logic anymore. It's too busy on the way she says my name, the feel of her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck.

Nine weeks, I remind myself as she pulls back to show me the photos she's taken.

Just nine more weeks, and then I can forget the way she makes my whole world tilt.

But watching her face light up as she flips through the shots, explaining about composition and natural light with that infectious enthusiasm, I know I'm lying to myself. Because this girl is unforgettable

And I'm in so much trouble.