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Endearment shimmered within the tilt of his lips as he continued to stare up at the twinkle-studded sky, his Adam’s apple rolling. “She’s perfect, but I could be biased. We used to be really close, but this new phase—centered around boys and hormones—have been tough to navigate. And my absence over the past year hasn’t helped. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice…staying behind, miles away, at such a vulnerable time in her life.” He glanced at me, almost like a silent plea, a question that demanded an answer.

But I had no answer to give him. I wasn’t armed with any tools to deconstruct his doubt. All I had was a sad smile that stretched with shadows, and it was enough to keep him talking.

“Anyway, I knew she’d be in good hands with her mother,” he finished, looking away. “We exchanged letters, talked on the phone. She’s thriving in school and sports.”

“Are you and her mother divorced?”

“No, we never married. Just didn’t work out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We get along great and have the co-parenting thing down.” Reed studied me through the moon’s lowlight. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

My stomach pitched at the question. I’d had my share of boys, but none of them friends. Truth be told, I only had one friend—Tara. She lived two streets over in a little brick house that felt warmer than mine. Her mom was kind and attentive, and her dog, Ladybug, always greeted me with face kisses and happy, eager paws.

I guessed I had three friends.

Tara, her mom, and Ladybug.

Shaking my head, I played with the drenched hem of my shirt. “No.”

“How come?”

“Relationships are overrated. Love is nothing but a building block for collapse. A stepping stone for tripping and stumbling into a black hole you can’t climb out of it.”

Reed lifted up in slow motion, returning to a sitting position across from me and folding his hands. “You’re too young to be so jaded.”

“Am I?” Our gazes tangled and snared. “I wish that were true. But being jaded doesn’t come with age; it comes with hardship. And hardship can blow through like a stormfront, destroying everything in a blink. Five years old, fifteen, fifty. Doesn’t matter. Once you’re caught in the funnel, you never stop spinning out.”

God, I was depressing.

My black hole was a reach away from snatching him up and taking him down with me.

I needed to pivot. “Do you like peanut butter?”

Reed blinked at me, multiple times, before dipping his chin and breathing out a laugh. “Sure.”

“I don’t. It’s the texture, I think. Smooth, crunchy, runny, lumpy. It’s not straightforward.”

“So, you hate peanut butter, house parties, and love. What do you like?”

“I like you.”

The glint in his eyes sparked, the quirk of his lips buckling. He’d moved in closer, and so had I. My knees were drawn up, matching his position, and the rough denim of his jeans was a finger’s-width apart from grazing against my slick calves. He could part his legs, stretch them into the shallow water, and he’d cage me in.

But nobody moved. Only the water rippled and danced around us while Alice in Chains serenaded us from yards away.

When Reed spoke, his voice was rough. “You don’t know me well enough to like me.”

“Yeah.” I stared at him, held his gaze. “Maybe that’s why I do.”

Something flashed in his eyes. Curiosity, temptation, uncertainty.

He unfolded his hands, cupping both knees. One foot drifted toward me in a slow slide that was filled with all the same sentiment shining in his eyes. His knee unbent, the sole of his boot closing in near my hip. I knew that a single touch would pull me from the cold lake and drop me in his lap, and I’d be forever lost to this moment beneath the full moon.

But then a high-pitched squeal carried over from Jay’s house.

He tugged his foot back with a light splash.

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