“Fair point,” he straightens his back. Kyle tilts his head. “Hey, where did you say you were you going after graduation?”

  Ah, that.

  “I didn’t,” I answer wryly.

  He raises his eyebrows, amused.

  I don’t want to lie to him. But I want a fresh start. I lied to Roman, no-one has any idea I’m heading to California and seeing Kyle makes it harder not to spill out my plans. If Kyle’s heading the same way, we wouldn’t lose touch.

  A very new friendship that barely had its beginning.

  “I’m not sure,” I scratch my head. “Might take a year out.”

  “You applied anywhere?”

  I bite the inside of my lip, looking away. His eyes never leave my face. I feel them touch my skin. His finger reaches the bottom of my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Kennedy.”

  “Mm?”

  “You’re hiding something,” he narrows his stare.

  “Nope.”

  “Liar.”

  I flash him a curious look. “And what of it?”

  His shoulders slacken, releasing his hold over my chin. “I suppose I didn’t want this to be goodbye.”

  “Who says it has to be? There’s still the phone and the modern wonders of the internet.”

  “All of which you are always available on,” he chuckles warmly.

  “Exactly,” I muse.

  He bows his head - a familiar gesture to Roman - and I shake my head. I do not need to be thinking of that blond haired jock. Blond haired jerk, more like.

  Hah.

  Oh, don’t look at me like that.

  “I’m taking a year out too, if you’re curious. College isn’t my thing but I’m heading to LA. A couple friends of mine started a band earlier this year and we’re hoping to bring it to the other side of the country.”

  “A band?! When - since when have you started a band?”

  He crosses his arms, smirking. It’s an adorable sight; in that blue gown, his cap hanging on one side and that dimpled, twinkling grin. Kyle ‘Heartbreaker’ Matthews, alright.

  “Since forever. You just never asked.”

  “Wh-wha-well, that’s sort of a random thing to ask someone! ‘Hey how are ya’, ‘what’s your plan for the weekend’? ‘Oh, by the way, are you playing bass or drums’?” I cross my arms.

  “Lead actually,” He grins.

  I release a snort, shaking my head. “Well, that’s incredible. I can’t believe you’re in a band and I didn’t know. I’m guessing everyone else knows and I’m just the last one with that info.”

  “No-one knows.” He shrugs nonchalantly.

  That surprises me.

  “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack,” he walks over to his chair and I follow him, our pace slow and steady as the guests take their seats. He sits down, glancing up at me. “You should watch me play sometime.”

  “If I’m ever around in LA,” I put my hands behind my back. When I’m lying or hiding a piece of information from someone, I get fidgety and the hands are my first giveaway; I figure it’s safer to keep them obscured. I don’t know if Kyle knows that yet but I’m not taking any chances.

  The corner of his mouth rises in a teasing smirk, his eyes dancing in amusement. “When you’re around in LA.”

  I notice the change of words from ‘if’ to ‘when’.

  Does he know?

  No, that’s impossible.

  How would he know that I’m heading to UCLA after all?

  “Hopefully,” I say lightly.

  Kyle simply continues with his knowing smirk and I already feel my cheeks flame brightly. The speaker announces that the ceremony is due to start and I motion to my seat. “Well, I b-better get going.”

  Madison Miller stalks over to the row, wedging herself between the students until she reaches us. Her venomous stare pins me down. Ah, she’s still sore about ‘Carrie-gate’. She glances at Kyle and the seat next to him, the one that has her name reserved.

  Ah, alphabetical order in surnames.

  They’re sitting right next to each other.

  “Excuse me,” she says frostily. I can tell she has a lot more to get off her chest but the presence of Kyle acts like a muzzle, stopping any vicious words from falling out. It’s kind of amusing. After all these years and on the last day, Madison is forced into silence.

  I motion to my seat on the other side of the hall. “I better go.”

  Kyle bites his lip. “See you around?”

  I glance at Madison, who’s taken her seat, watching me avidly. “I’ll probably hang with my dad. But text me, okay?”

  He simply smiles, watching me as I wave my goodbye.

  Walking to my row, I focus on the surname list. I just need to find ‘H’. Spotting the row, I squeeze past, settling for the seat in the middle with my name on it. The agenda leaflet is there, glossy and full of pictures from this year; all happy faces. You wouldn’t think there’s a dark side to high school when you sift through those pictures. The curtain begins to open and the orchestra music starts to swell, indicating the show is starting. I glance to my left, noticing the ‘J’ surnames are connected to my row. There’s an empty seat next to mine. I wonder -

  “Ah, shit,” a gruff, familiar voice says, bumping into my leg. Our bodies collide a little and his arm touches the side of my gown. Eventually, he manages to squeeze past me. His air of spicy cologne hits my senses last.

  Roman takes the seat next to me.

  My back stiffens and I face forward. He lounges back, glancing at me with intrigue. I feel his stare on my skin.

  I should have known.

  Our last names are always clicked next to each other.

  A B C D…G H I J -

  Yep.

  I exhale slowly, waiting for the ceremony to start. My fingers curl the leaflet in my hands. Flashes of our kiss hit me like a train wreck.

  I’m expecting him to break his promise, to pester and ruin the ceremony for me but to my surprise, he keeps himself to himself. He continues to lounge back in his chair, not saying a word. I notice his outfit is a super large size for his muscular frame. The cap is tilted to the side, the thread waving slowly. He chews his gum leisurely and I try to block out the sounds.

  Carmichael walks to the stage as the audience applauds. He nods, simmering everyone down.

  “Welcome, welcome graduating class of 2020! I cannot believe how far you’ve all matured and grown. Now, high school doesn’t always have to be the kiss of death…”

  Roman lets out a small amused cough, tapping his foot against my chair.

  My first thread of patience starts weakening.

  —

  The ceremony finally ends. Two hours later and the caps are off in the air, the grads are jumping with joy, taking selfies. I notice Gina laughing, enjoying herself as she high fives Kirsten. Her gaze meets mine and she waves me over.

  “Kennedy!”

  I smile, meeting her in her group. Kirsten gives me a polite nod and smile. Gina jumps, embracing my body tightly. “Congrats!”

  “Can you believe it’s all over?”

  “I, for one, am eternally grateful!” I laugh, releasing her. She nods in agreement, putting her arm over my shoulder. We both walk outside, joining the crowds. Dad comes over, meeting us. Gina smiles, putting her hand out.

  “Hey, Mr Hinch.”

  “Hello Gina, congratulations,” he returns the handshake before giving me a muted but proud smile. It’s barely there but I know it when I see it. Years of deciphering his poker face will do that to you.

  “Thanks,” she gives me a squeeze around the shoulders. “Hey, Ken? You got any plans? You wanna hang with us for a few hours? Me and Kirsten are going to grab some lunch at the Rosewood. My treat!”

  “Thanks but I’m gonna have lunch with my dad but we can hang this weekend?”

  “Sure thing,” she nods before spotting Kirsten. “I gotta go but call me!” She leaves us to it.

  “You should have gone with your friend,” Dad frowns.

  I shrug, putting my hands over my elbows. “I thought you’d want to spend as much time as possible with me. Since I’m heading off soon.”

  His face softens. A tentative, gentle expression reaches his lips. He puts his arm around me, giving me firm hug. I stiffen. This isn’t our usual gesture of affection. We’ve never hugged aside from the day of mom’s funeral and even then it was a forced one, two strangers bound by the thread of tragedy, awkwardly pushed together. But now, it feels different. Not quite natural enough for us to do it again but comfortable enough that I relax in his hold, savouring the rare feeling of warmth. Dad smells like tobacco, cedar wood and mint. A comforting mix.

  Is this what home smells like?

  ——

  On the car ride home, I feel a sense of peace that I haven’t had in a long time. My head sticks out of the window, the wind blowing in my hair, the country music that’s Dad’s favorite plays softly in the background. My elbow rests on the windowpane.

  My mind relaxes until my hand feels a bit of paper in my gown pocket.

  I frown, feeling the pocket and picking out a piece of scrunched of paper. Why is that there?

  Dad stops the car, pulling up to a gas station. “I’ll be back. You want anything?”

  I grin tightly, shaking my head. “Thanks, I’m good.”

  He nods, leaving me in the car. I use the opportunity to unravel the paper, reading the outside inscription. It’s a note.

  Someone must have slid it inside my pocket when I wasn’t looking. I inhale deeply, preparing for a barrage of insults or last minute words from bullies.

  The three words knock my breath away.

  Don’t love him.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A YEAR AND HALF LATER

  “He’s here,” I blurt out.

  My body stays still, every sense on hyper alert as the man who I ran away from, stands a few feet away, taller, bigger and even more handsome than I remember.

  The crowd shouts wildly, exclaiming in joy for their teams but my mind is blank, focused on the man that I was sure I’d never see again.

  “UCLA, are you ready to kick some ass?”

  “Who’s here?” Holly - the cheerleading captain of our team - says hurriedly. She’s running into position, motioning for me to concentrate. The game’s about to start any minute now and all I can think about is the man that watches on the field.

  You’re probably wondering what the fuck I’m doing on the cheer squad. Yeah, it’s a mystery to me too. I wanted to be a part of something, to feel like I’m accomplishing something with my skills and early years of ballet classes actually helped with my flexibility. Holly was my first friend at UCLA and she encouraged me to join. To my surprise, I passed auditions and made it part of the team. Now we’re both in the squad, cheering for the UCLA football team as they play against USC.

  Where my nightmare has just started.

  The person I left behind in high school is in the same stadium. Playing as the quarterback in the away team.

  “Here comes Johnson, leading the team straight for a touchdown!” The pundit screeches and the crowd goes wild. It’s a loss to our team and we groan slightly but it’s nothing compared to the dread in my stomach.

  Of course he would be here.

  I knew it would happen.

  But a part of me was naive enough to think I could get away from this unscathed.

  It’s half-time and time for our routine to start. The music blares loudly and Holly and I start our tumbling passes, cheering loudly to our anthem. The adrenaline rush I get from dancing and practicing my skills in front of a crowd is something I never expected. Not from the introverted version of myself that wanted to hide in high school. Now, I revel in the euphoric rush.

  Well, this could have been like any other football night.

  Except it’s not.

  Once our routines are done, we head back to our side of the bench. After USC finish their routine, the players come back to the field and I distinctly feel the burn of a penetrating stare burrow into my skin.

  It’s going to be a long night.

  —

  Holly and I walk out of the stadium, heading towards her car. We say goodbye to our teammates, waving to them before we exhale in relief as the evening is over.

  “I’m so glad that’s done,” Holly breathes.

  “I think this hairspray is now part of my hair,” I pout, pulling at the ponytail. Once the hairband releases, I let out a groan. “Thank the lord.”

  We reach her car. She leans over the bonnet, giving me a fixed stare.

  “What?” I muse.

  “The USC quarterback was checking you out.”

  Oh, boy.

  Is it worth getting into it with Holly? Unfurling all the demons I left behind at Mountford because I saw one of them today?

  “They check out the cheerleaders all the time,” I scratch the back of my head, clutching the door handle. “Are you gonna open -“

  “He really stared, Ken. Like he knew you,” she raises her eyebrows pointedly.

  I shrug, averting my gaze. She jumps over my way, tugging my shoulders back and forth. “You fucked before, didn’t you?”

  I recoil at the thought. “What! No! We didn’t! Look, as your friend, I’m telling you to get your mind out of the gutter.”

  “So…you do know him?”

  “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to,” she says suggestively.

  “He used to go to my high school, that’s all,” I move her hands off. “Now can we -“

  “You know Roman Johnson?” She baulks.

  “It’s not a big deal, we just grew up in the same area -“

  “So why couldn’t he keep his eyes off you?”

  “Because he probably tried to remember my face from somewhere, you know, a familiar face and whatnot. It’s not that big -“

  “If you say it’s not a big deal one more time -“

  “It’s not that big of a deal, Holly Thompson.”

  She growls softly, giving me a narrowed stare. Her eyes are fixed on my face but then they move to the left slightly, widening in shock. A breath escapes from her mouth.

  “And he’s heading this way,” she whispers quickly.

  My body freezes but I try to keep my face calm; I’m not going to revert back to the girl I was before. I turn around, facing head-on the guy that I dreaded seeing again.

  Roman.

  He hasn’t changed one bit. His muscles are bigger, protruding out of his sweaty football shirt. His height towers over me, a familiar feeling as my senses become consumed by him. His bright, blue eyes are alight with a passion that takes my breath away; he’s fixated on me and only me.

  I can’t find the words so I just gape at him, hoping someone will break this awkward silence.

  Neither of us speak.

  Holly clears her throat and the spell is broken. Roman glances at her, before returning his gaze to me.

  “You’re here,” Roman says brusquely.

  I shrug. “Looks like it.”

  I feel Holly’s razor-like vision stay on my skin, fully intrigued and giving us absolutely no privacy. Not that I want to be alone with him anyway.

  Holly puts her hand to Roman. “Holly Thompson.”

  He returns the handshake but his eyes are on me. “Roman Johnson.”

  She retracts her hand, giving me a pointed look. It’s pretty much a ‘talk to him!’.

  “You’re a cheerleader,” he breathes, taking in my uniform. I feel an instinct to hide from his heated gaze but I remember my mantra; stay calm, stay collected.

  “Surprised?” I say lightly.

  “Very,” he replies without missing a beat.

  I narrow my eyes a little and his lips curl into a boyish grin, a dimple showing on the side of his cheek. It’s jarring. I was expecting the angry, pissed off Roman that didn’t give a fuck about my feelings. But instead, he’s smiling, looking at me with that heated stare and it’s throwing me off. Is it the cheerleader uniform? Has he got a kink for this?

  But then his gaze didn’t wander to the other cheerleaders during the game; when he had a brief resting moment or during the break, I could feel the brush of his gaze finding me, staying there and refusing to let go.

  Seeing him now confirms that feeling; that graze of his stare washing over me. There’s no malice or anger.

  It’s something else entirely.

  “We need to talk,” he says seriously.

  “Do we?”

  “Yes,” he says impatiently.

  “About what?”

  His eyes flash in frustration. “You know what.”

  “Do I?” I challenge.

  Holly watches us like a riveting game of ping-pong with her imaginary box of popcorn.

  “You said you didn’t get into UCLA,” he lifts an eyebrow. “That was the deal. Honesty. And it seems like you shortchanged me in that bargain.”

  Shit.

  “Well as fun as this reunion has been, I’ve got to go home now,” I turn to Holly, giving her the ‘look’ and she understands instantly; she collects herself quickly, moving inside the drivers seat. I open the passenger door but I hear his voice near my ear, his breath tickling my skin, sending a shiver of goosebumps.

  “Running away won’t make this go away.”

  I swivel round on my heel. He’s inches away from my face.

  “And what am I running away from exactly?” I purse my lips.

  His eyes travel down to my lips, focusing his attention there for bit too long. Roman flashes his stare up to mine. “You don’t remember our kiss?”

  “Shut up,” I put my hand up to his mouth. “Just shut up.”

  “Meet with me,” he murmurs softly.

  “Why should I? I don’t owe you anything.”

  “You don’t,” Roman confirms. “But I won’t give up.”

  Why can’t he just go away?

  Why?

  “Why are you so annoying?” I squint.

  “My nature,” he shrugs.

  “One meeting,” I growl. “One and that’s all you’re getting.”

  He smirks like the cat that got the cream. “Sure.”