Remy was a wanderer. A free spirit. She was also irrevocably in love with Hyde Bishop-Fuller, the oldest guy in our inner circle and the most reclusive and evasive. Unfortunately, Hyde had never returned her adoration, and when he enlisted in the military a couple of years ago, Remy really saw no reason to stay in any one place for too long. She left her shattered heart in Denver and never looked back. I missed her like crazy, and I knew Zowen worried about her endlessly, but she always seemed happy and as carefree as ever when she finally materialized. She seemed like she was finally letting go of her impossible love. I always envied her easy-going attitude. Nothing seemed to ruffle her feathers. Well, nothing other than Hyde.
I’d never been that relaxed and unaffected. I took myself far too seriously.
It was still early enough in the morning that I didn’t have to fight traffic when I pulled into Austin. It was hardly a surprise that the girl I came all this way to see was just getting home when I parked my truck at the end of her driveway. She didn’t even blink when she saw me climb out of the cab of my truck and make my way toward her.
Her black and purple hair was piled on top of her head in a messy ponytail, and her dark eye makeup was smeared around her honey-colored eyes in a way I couldn’t tell if it was deliberate or not. She had on a pair of skintight, red leggings that looked like they were made of leather, and a pair of shiny black boots laced up to her knees. Her t-shirt had the logo of a band I was sure no one besides her had ever heard of scrawled across the front of it, and the bottom was chopped off so it skimmed her pierced belly button. I always thought she looked like she had just climbed out of the pages of a comic book, and today was no exception.
She’d been out of my league and way too cool for me ever since we were young. She was one of the few people in my life I’d ever allowed to intimidate me. She was also the only one I’d rejected before she could reject me, because in my teenaged mind I knew she eventually would. I knew she would figure out I was too boring, too predictable, too worried about what other people thought of me to stay by her side. Youthful passion exploded between us unchecked, but so did immature worries and insecurities. I hurt her before she could hurt me, and I had lived with the regret of that choice every day since.
Instead of walking into the cute, but tiny, mid-century modern home that sat just off South Congress Street, Bowe waited until I was standing directly in front of her before she crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at me.
I was waiting for her to demand an explanation as to why I was suddenly standing on her doorstep. I was ready for her to pick a fight. I’d spent the last hour of the very long drive bracing myself for her to rip me apart and ask all the questions I didn’t want to answer, and to turn me away without a second thought. After all, she made it clear she wanted nothing to do with me after that summer we ruined each other. She’d actively tried to forget about me, according to my sister and anyone else I asked.
Instead, I whispered, “It hurts so bad,” and almost immediately lost all the composure I’d tried so hard to build. I aimlessly made my way toward the girl who had declared herself my sworn enemy.
She didn’t push me away or make fun of my complete and utter breakdown.
No. She didn’t do anything I expected her to do.
Bowe Keller never did, which was why I never knew what to do with her or how to handle all the conflicting ways I felt about her.
All I knew was she was the one person I needed the most at this moment.
Bowe
THE LAST THING I was expecting to encounter after dragging myself home from a band practice that lasted way longer than it should have was a heartbroken, seemingly devastated Ryier Archer. The only time I crossed paths with any of the Archer family was on holidays or during summer vacations when my parents dragged me to Denver for a couple of months each year. Since that one fateful summer when I was sixteen, I spent less and less time with my childhood friends. I loved my life in Austin, and often resented being dragged into all the memories and relationships that made up my parents’ past. I was very much a live-for-the-moment type of girl, and I didn’t enjoy being pulled away from my friends and my interests at home. I’d skipped the last visit to Denver for Christmas and was fully planning on staying in Austin for the summer, even though my parents had heavily hinted that they wanted me to tag along this year. I was living on my own now and trying to make my own choices without feeling guilty or ungrateful for all they had done for me. It was a struggle I’d yet to master.
I had twin sisters, Yves and Zola, who were several years younger than I was. Neither one of them appreciated my new level of defiance, because it meant they couldn’t convince our parents to let them skip working and other activities this summer. If I wasn’t going, there would be no concessions. My mom and dad struggled to have more kids after I came along. It was something they were very open about. They were transparent with me when they decided to pursue giving me a sibling through in-vitro fertilization. It hadn’t been an easy process for anyone in our small family. It took more than one attempt before they were successful. As a result, my little sisters were often viewed as the miracles they were and frequently got their way. We all treated them like they were precious and special. They might be the only soft spot I had, and the only ones who would get me to go back on my resolve to avoid Denver at all costs. Or at least, they were the only soft spot I would ever admit to.
I would rather die than admit to the other tender, sensitive spot I harbored in my icy heart to anyone. Especially to myself. Unfortunately, that secret spot had blown wide open and was aching like crazy because the boy who claimed it was currently standing in front of me looking like a heartbroken zombie.
Even as young children, Ry Archer and I were always on opposite sides of any situation. We bickered endlessly and never saw eye-to-eye on anything. Fighting with Ry was as easy as breathing, and our endless conflicts, big and small, played a pretty big part in why I didn’t want to pull myself out of my own life just to play the recurring villain in his. We were old enough now; there was no need to be forced to endure the other’s company. There was no reason either of us had to suffer.
We didn’t have to be bombarded with memories of that night where one of our legendary fights over something small suddenly erupted into something else. To this day I had no clue how an argument led to clothes coming off and both of us looking at each other like the other person had all the answers in the world. Sure, Ry was hot, and smart, and popular. But he was also stubborn, abrupt, and overly opinionated. One might call it the heat of the moment, because it had been combustible, but all of that warmth and affection that hid under animosity turned to ash the second Ry decided he regretted letting things go too far, and he immediately pulled away. We had always had a weird intimacy between us that was closer than a friendship, but it wasn’t until he pushed me away on purpose and found someone who was my total opposite that I realized enemies might know each other better than friends ever did.
Now, I didn’t have to let his perceived perfection irk me. And my absolute lack of conformity and disregard of the rules no longer needed to bother him.
It was never easy between the two of us, but over the last few years, while he’d been dating Aston Wheeler, things had morphed into being unbearable inside my heart. There were several reasons for the discontent between the two of us, but I only let myself think about them when I was alone and feeling particularly melancholy and introspective. Mostly when I was making music or writing lyrics.