Chapter 2

I stared at the face in front of me, speechless.

It was Derek Shaw, the Shaw family's golden boy, and my childhood sweetheart.

Well, "best friend" was right. "Childhood sweetheart" maybe not.

Whatever, that was a whole other story.

"What?" He raised an eyebrow. "Three years apart, and you don't recognize me?"

I opened my mouth, but my throat was all choked up. After a long pause, I managed, "What are you doing here?"

"Passing by," he said, sounding totally casual. "Happened to walk by your school and saw you standing out in the sun, crying."

"I wasn't crying," I shot back.

"Sure, not crying. Got a brick in your eye, huh?" He reached out and brushed the corner of my eye with his thumb. "Your makeup's a mess."

I dodged his hand and looked out the window.

Brian still stood by the playground, gazing over here.

He was too far away for me to make out his expression, but I could feel his gaze fixed on our car.

Winona clung to his arm, seemingly saying something to him.

"Stop staring." Derek's voice pulled me back. "Or I'll get jealous."

I turned and glared at him. "Jealous? Of what?"

"Who knows?" He leaned back in his seat, relaxed. "Jealous you've looked at him for two years and never at me."

I was left speechless.

Derek had never said anything straight. I could never tell if he was serious or joking.

"Drive," he said to the front.

The car slowly pulled away, leaving the playground and Brian and Winona behind.

I slumped back in my seat, zoning out as the scenery sped by outside the window.

My head was a mess. Brian handing me the tissue, Winona's look, and the words " Don't freak her out" played over and over.

Honestly, I had nothing to feel wronged about.

I'd suspected I was a stand-in all along.

Brian was always distant, never crossing the line from friend.

I was the one throwing myself at him, the one fooling myself all along.

But when it was thrown in my face, it still hurt.

"Go ahead and cry if you want," Derek said next to me. "My shoulder's available."

I ignored him.

"Don't worry. I won't charge you," he added.

"Shut up."

He chuckled and fell quiet.

The car was silent except for the low engine hum.

After a while, I blurted out, "How did you know I was at this school?"

"Your mom told me."

I froze for a second, then glanced over at him.

He kept his face calm, voice flat. "She came by my place last month and chatted with my mom. She mentioned you got into this school, and that you..."

He paused.

"Saying what?"

"She said you were chasing after some guy and having a tough time with it."

I clenched my fingers, my nails pressing into my palm.

It'd been three years since I last saw my mom.

I heard myself ask, "Is she okay?"

Derek glanced at me, and there was something in his eyes I couldn't read.

"You want to know?" he asked.

I didn't say anything.

He was quiet for a moment. "She's still the same, always busy, traveling all over the world.

"She was in Braston last month. She's probably in Newrian this month. Have you called her?"

I called her once when I was a freshman, but she never picked up. So, I stopped trying after that.

"Forget her." I rubbed my eyes. "Why are you here? I thought you were in college in Petrico."

"Dropped out."

"What?"

He looked at me, a lazy smile on his face. "Missed you. Came to find you."

I glared at him. "Can you be serious for real?"

"Okay." He sat up a little. "I transferred to your school as a junior. Guess you'll be seeing a lot more of me."

It took me a moment to process that.

Derek was a genius who aced every test, won every competition. Now, he dropped out of Petrico's top college to come to our ordinary school?

"Are you crazy?" I blurted out.

"Nope," he said. "Petrico was way too boring. I wanted a change of scenery."

"Did your parents agree to this?"

"Nope. But I'm twenty now. They can't tell me what to do."

I looked at the side of his face, and suddenly he felt almost like a stranger to me.

After three years, he'd changed so much. He was taller, his shoulders broader, his features sharper and more grown-up.

But his eyes were still the same, always carrying that laid-back, half-smiling look, like nothing mattered.

But I knew better. He cared about certain things.

"Derek."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

He blinked, then laughed softly, his eyes crinkling. "For what?"

"For coming to get me."

He looked at me, his gaze lingering on my face, like I was something rare to him.

"Nina," he called, his voice suddenly low. "Don't do this anymore."

"Do what?"

"Don't cry over anyone else."

I didn't answer.

*****

The car pulled up in front of an apartment building.

I glanced out the window, then at Derek. "Where are we?"

"My place," he said, pushing open the car door and stepping out. "Come on. I'll make you some pasta."

"I'm not hungry."

"You didn't eat lunch."

I paused. "How do you know?"

He turned around, the sunlight bathing him in a warm, golden glow.

"I know all about you," he said.

Derek's apartment was on the eighteenth floor, small, but clean. The living room had a full-wall window with a view of distant scenery.

He told me to sit on the couch while he went to the kitchen to make pasta.

As I watched him busy in the kitchen, childhood memories suddenly hit me out of nowhere.

Back then, my parents were still together. We lived next door to the Shaws.

Derek was two years older, and he was the perfect kid everyone talked about: good grades, good looks, good at everything.

My mom always said to me, "Look at Derek, and then look at you."

I didn't like him.

Honestly, I was jealous of him and kind of hated him.

One day, I fell down in the neighborhood and scraped my knee badly. Blood poured out.

I sat there crying, not knowing what to do.

Then Derek came running and carried me to the hospital on his back.

He was only ten at the time, stumbling along as he carried me, but he still made it.

That day, he told me, "If you ever need help, come find me. I've got your back."

I didn't know what "got your back" meant back then. I just thought the annoying neighbor wasn't so bad.

Later, my parents divorced. Mom left, and Dad was busy with work. No one took care of me. Derek really did have my back.

He did my homework, brought me breakfast, and walked me home from school.

If anyone picked on me, he was always the first to step in.

After high school, he left for Petrico. I stayed here. We slowly lost touch.

I figured he'd forgotten about me by now.

"What are you spacing out for?" Derek asked.

He set a plate of pasta in front of me, topped with a runny poached egg and a light sprinkle of parmesan herbs.

I stared at the pasta, and my nose suddenly stung.

"What? Not good?" Derek sat across from me. "I'm not a great cook. Make do with this."

"It's good," I said, picking up my fork and taking a bite.

It was rather plain. The pasta was slightly overcooked, and the sauce was a touch too salty.

But I ate every bite.

By the time I finished, it was almost dark. I stood up to clean the dishes.

He stopped me. "Leave it. I'll do it."

"Alright. I'll head back to school."

"You sure you want to go right now?"

I was stunned.

Derek gave me a level look. "Brian and that girl are probably still on campus. You ready to face them?"

I went quiet.

Honestly, I wasn't ready.

"Stay here tonight," Derek said. "There's a guest room."

"It's not appropriate."

"Why not?" He leaned back, giving me a half-smile. "You used to crash at my place all the time when we were kids. Now suddenly it's a problem?"

I opened my mouth, unable to find any words to argue back.

I ended up staying.

*****

That night, I lay in the guest room bed, unable to sleep.

My phone lit up and dimmed over and over.

Brian sent me several texts.

[Where are you?]

[Answer me.]

[Nina, about today...]

He didn't finish, but I knew what he was trying to say.

He probably wanted to explain.

But I didn't want to hear it anymore.

I put my phone on silent and rolled over, staring at the moonlight outside.

After a while, I heard a noise outside.

I quietly opened the door and saw a tall figure standing by a floor-to-ceiling window in the living room.

It was Derek.

He was smoking. His shadow stretched long in the moonlight. Smoke curled around him, the ember of his cigarette flickering in and out.

I'd never seen him smoke before.

He turned like he felt me watching. Spotting me, he froze, then put the cigarette out.

"Did I bother you?" he asked.

"Nope." I walked over. "When did you start smoking?"

He smiled, but didn't say anything.

I stood next to him, gazing out at the night view. The city lights were far away, but the stars felt close.

"Derek."

"Yeah?"

"Why did you come find me?"

He was quiet for a moment. Then he turned and looked at me.

The moonlight caught in his eyes, mixing with something I couldn't understand.

"Because you're here," he said.