She's dressed in a pair of tight blue jeans and a hippie, floral top that makes her look more grown-up than her sixteen years. Her Converse-covered feet stop inches from me, her wild chestnut curls bounce, and my body does strange things when I look at her—things I haven’t wanted to think because we’re friends.
And if we’re friends, we don’t have those feelings for each other.
Right?
“Hey, you.” I smile at her. “Happy Birthday.” I wrap my arms around her, feeling her mold to me. My eyes close, and I inhale her perfume for a long moment. Her hugs have always been good, but right now, today, they feel like more. Different. As if I don’t want to ever let her go.
When we finally break apart, I shove out my hand, offering her the small box wrapped in bright, colorful paper. A squeal falls from her lips as she bounces on her feet, excitedly. Her happiness makes my chest warm, and I can’t help but grin at her.
She rips the wrapping, tearing at it until she finds the smaller box inside. The lid snaps open as she flicks the clasp, and her eyes widen when she sees the small gold locket with a bird carved into the front. Autumn clicks the lock open, and inside is the photo of us on my sixteenth birthday when she and I went out for milkshakes. The smile on her face is bright, her eyes shining with happiness, and me, I’m the stupid boy falling in love with his best friend.
“This is amazing,” she whispers, and when she glances up, I notice the shimmer in her unusual-colored eyes. The hazel is almost luminous, and the gold shines, just like the smile on her face. A songbird if ever I saw one.
I shrug it off, attempting to look cool, but inside, my heart is banging a nervous rhythm against my ribs. Autumn reminds me of what happiness should be. When I’m around her, all I want is to have her laughing and grinning. She means everything to me, even though we can’t be together in the way I want—as boyfriend and girlfriend.
Every time I’m near her, I want to kiss her, to feel what her lips feel like. I want to taste her cherry lip gloss and see her cheeks turn red like the other girls' cheeks do when I talk to them.
She throws her arms around my neck, tugging me closer for another hug, and I revel in the citrus scent of her perfume. Oranges and lemons. She always smells like the hottest day and the brightest morning.
“Will you put it on?” she asks as she steps back and hands me the thin gold chain. Autumn lifts her hair, turning around, giving me access to her neck. As the gold drapes over her deep brown skin, I can’t stop my eyes from drinking in every inch of her slender neck.
Finally, she faces me, and I smile when she lifts the locket and places a kiss on the front. Her lips are still shimmering, causing my heart to thump at the thought of kissing her.
“It’s going to stay with me forever.” Her gaze locks on mine, and I swear to god I feel a spark of something between us. It’s as if lightning is striking us right where we’re standing, but it’s summer, the day is warm, and the sun is shining down on us.
“Keep it safe,” I tell her.
“Of course!” Her face brightens. I can’t stop myself from noticing how beautiful she is. How her soul shines in her eyes, and my heart hurts when I realize I need to tell her about my father’s plans. And the moment I do, I’m going to take that happiness away. “This is the best day ever.”
Her admission has me stalling, and I decide I’ll tell her soon.
For today, I’ll be the best friend she’s come to know, but when soon comes, I know I’m going to break her heart.
Chapter Five
Autumn
Eighteen years old
Eighteen.
Even though I’m more than old enough to date, the one boy I’ve wanted to go out with is my best friend. And you can’t date your best friend. Can you?
My mother kept me back from boys, from dating, and from doing all the things other girls my age did when they were much younger. But I decided that today is the day I finally tell JD how I feel.
I can’t wait to see him. For me to keep my emotions a secret for so long has been difficult, and even though he’s never tried to kiss me, I know he feels something between us.
On my sixteenth birthday, I was almost sure he was going to kiss me, but he didn’t. We’ve been close but never as close as I imagined us to be. Momma likes him, she thinks he’s a good boy, and she told me that once I’m old enough, she’ll give us her blessing, but it’s not her I’m worried about—it’s JD’s parents.
For years, I had a feeling something was going to happen, that JD would be forced to do something he possibly doesn’t want to. And he wouldn’t have a choice. JD’s dad has expectations of his son. Being friends with him would only anger his dad, so we’ve always kept it a secret. We’d meet at school or my house, but never at his place. The sadness of not being accepted still lingers, even though I’ve become accustomed to it.
JD is nothing like his dad, and I know he would never abandon me. But we still need to be careful because Mr. Montagu, JD’s dad, is scary.
“Happy birthday, sweet girl,” Momma says as she enters the kitchen. Her smile is bright; she’s holding a big box.
“Thanks, Momma,” I say, kissing her on the cheek, and she pulls me into her arms. It feels like a sad moment as she looks at me with her glossy eyes. It’s almost as if she’s going to say goodbye, and I think briefly of my dad. My chest aches, the reminder of losing him so suddenly, knowing in my heart I wouldn’t survive losing my momma as well.
“I’m so proud of you,” she tells me. “All I ever wanted was to see you become a woman, and now that you’re eighteen, I would like to take you down to the club, and we’ll sing together tonight.”
She shifts the large box toward me. My heart leaps into my throat. Excitement bubbles in my chest at the thought of singing where my mother first stood on stage.
It’s an old jazz club, and I’ve been begging her to take me for a few years. “Thank you, Momma,” I squeal. “I’m so excited.” I’m pulling at the box when a knock sounds at the door.
“I’ll get that. You open your gift,” she tells me and leaves me in the small dining area as I tug at the lid. Inside is a sleek, gold dress with sparkles in the material. It shines under the soft light streaming through the window.
“Happy birthday, songbird,” JD says as he enters the room. He looks so good dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a white shirt, and his short, black, spiky hair is sticking up in all directions. He’s grown into a man, with a dark dusting of stubble on his jaw, and his deep-brown eyes shining with affection. He’s twenty-one now, and he looks it.
“I didn’t know you were coming so early,” I tell him. He pulls me into his arms, wrapping me in his cinnamon-and-apple scent. His cologne has always been my favorite smell. I found solace in his arms, comfort in his embrace, and in his words, I found happiness.
I didn’t know it then. It took me years to figure out that I fell in love with James Dylan Montagu when I was only eight years old. And I plan on telling him today.
“I wanted to see you before I head to a meeting with my father. He wants to see me for something. Not sure what.” My stomach drops, and my gut churns with anxiety. There’s something off about his words. I don’t like the fact that he’s going to see his father, because the last time he did, JD was told he would follow in his father’s footsteps and join the navy.