The message came at 10:47 the night before our graduation trip, and by 10:49 I had disappeared from the group chat without asking a single question. “Megan forgot to book your ticket,” Ethan Cole had written. “There’s no room now. Don’t come on this trip.”
Chapter 2
By the time Jenna and I returned from touring colleges, my exam results were in, and my future suddenly had a shape that did not include Ethan.
Mom lived outside Atlanta now, and on my first afternoon at her house, I found a young man sitting on the couch with a college catalog open across his knees. He stood when I entered. He was tall, lean, dark-haired, and familiar in the distant way childhood acquaintances sometimes are.
“Claire Bennett,” he said. “You still remember me?”
“Lucas?”
Lucas Grant was the son of my mother’s closest friend. He was two years older than me and entering his junior year at Franklin University, a respected school outside Atlanta. We had spent holidays together as children, but I hadn’t seen him in years.
He took my suitcase before I could protest.
“Your mom said you’re looking at schools down here.”
“I am.”
“Then I’ve been assigned to make sure you don’t choose one based on the quality of the coffee shop.”
Mom called from the kitchen, “That is absolutely something she would do.”
I laughed, and something inside me loosened.
Over the next few days, Lucas helped me compare programs, dorms, tuition, internships, and the things I had never considered because my previous college plan consisted of one sentence: go where Ethan goes.
My scores were strong. Franklin had an excellent literature and communications program, and it sat close enough to Jenna’s art school that we could see each other regularly.
I chose it.
The same week, our old senior class chat exploded with college announcements. Then Megan accidentally posted a screenshot from a private group.
Megan: Shouldn’t somebody tell Claire we changed schools? What if she still applies to the old one because she thinks Ethan is going there?
Ethan: No. If she wants to be around us, she can apologize to you first.
Derek: You’re too nice, Megan. Claire treats you like garbage and you still worry about her.
The screenshot vanished almost immediately.
Too late.
Dozens of people had seen it.
Seconds later, Megan sent a shaky voice message explaining that she had posted it “by mistake.”
“Claire, I’m so sorry. I meant to send that somewhere else. Please don’t be mad. If you still want to know where Ethan applied, I can tell you. I don’t want you two separated because of me.”
I stared at my phone until the words blurred together.
Mom came in carrying a bowl of cold watermelon.
“Ethan again?”
I looked at her.
There was no criticism in her face. Only concern.
I left the class chat.
Then I blocked Megan, Ethan, and everyone else who seemed more interested in watching my humiliation than being my friend.
Mom put the watermelon beside me.
“That bad?”
“No,” I said.
And suddenly I meant it.
“It’s finished.”
Lucas was sitting across the room reading Franklin’s course catalog. He glanced up.
“You sure about the literature program?”
“Completely.”
He closed the catalog.
“Then I guess we’ll be schoolmates.”
Mom smiled. “Lucas, look after her for me.”
He glanced at me, and there was something unexpectedly warm in his expression.
“I will.”
My face became suspiciously hot.
A week later, Jenna held her graduation party at a downtown hotel. By ridiculous coincidence, Ethan’s family had booked the ballroom next door for his celebration.
Jenna saw his name on the sign and groaned.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
We tried to avoid them.
Naturally, we failed.
On our way back from the restroom, Ethan and several friends came down the hallway toward us.
He looked good, which annoyed me only because I noticed. White shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, confident smile, the easy posture of someone accustomed to being forgiven.
His friend Derek spotted me first.
“Well, look who showed up.”
Another boy laughed. “Claire, did you hear Ethan’s party was here?”
Ethan said nothing.
He watched me with a small smile.
That smile told me everything. He still thought this was temporary. He thought I would crack eventually and return to my old position beside him.
Derek folded his arms. “You know, if you’d just apologize to Megan, this whole thing could be over.”
“Are you finished?” I asked.
The question caught him off guard.
I opened the ballroom door behind me.
Inside, Jenna’s friends were gathering around a huge cake.
“Claire!” Jenna shouted. “Get over here!”
I smiled at the group in the hallway.
“Enjoy your party.”
Then I walked inside.
Later, Jenna reported that Ethan had stood outside our ballroom for several minutes looking furious.
I was eating barbecue at the time.
“Should I care?” I asked.
Jenna’s eyes narrowed dramatically. “Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?”
I pointed my fork toward the serving table. “Get me another rib.”
That summer, I packed the last pieces of my Ohio life into boxes.
At the bottom of a desk drawer, I found a dark blue notebook Ethan had given me freshman year. On the first page, in awkward teenage handwriting, he had written:
Claire, I’ll always have your back.
I ran my finger over the words once.
Then I closed the notebook and placed it at the bottom of a storage box.
Some promises belonged to the people we used to be.
A few nights before my flight to Atlanta, an unfamiliar number called.
I answered.
“Claire?”
My hand stopped over the packing tape.
Ethan.
“Don’t hang up,” he said quickly.
I said nothing.
He cleared his throat. “Megan isn’t mad anymore. I talked to her. She said she’s willing to put everything behind us.”
How generous of her.
“So,” he continued, sounding increasingly pleased with himself, “you can travel to school with us after all. We’re all going to Franklin. Finance department for me. Just like we talked about.”
I nearly smiled.
They had switched their plans without telling me, deliberately withheld the information, and now Ethan spoke as though I had somehow failed to keep up.
“Got it,” I said.
He mistook that for surrender.
“Good. Cancel whatever ticket you bought. We’ll go together.”
The next evening he called again.
This time he sounded irritated.
“Why is Megan still blocked?”
I sat on my bed towel-drying my hair.
“And there’s been another change,” he said. “She doesn’t want to take the train because crowds make her anxious, so Dad’s letting me drive. We don’t have enough room for everybody. You’ll have to get there yourself.”
Of course.
“Once you arrive, call me. We’ll buy you dinner or something. Make it up to you.”
I opened my mouth.
I intended to tell him I wasn’t going to his school with him. I intended to tell him I had already chosen Franklin’s sister campus in Atlanta while his group had selected another Franklin branch several hours away.
But Ethan hung up first.
A text arrived seconds later.
Stop sulking. Get some sleep.
I stared at it.
Then I laughed so hard Mom came down the hall to see what was wrong.
“Nothing,” I told her.
For the first time, nothing truly was.
