Page 47 of High Hopes

REALLY?

Liam

yup. plus one is all yours if you want it

Birdie

oh my god, YES. I’ll wear my fanciest ... sweater dress? what do people wear to a gallery opening?

Liam

you’ll look perfect, don’t worry. just promise you won’t leave me alone with my parents

Birdie

deal. I’ll be your personal buffer

Liam

you can schmooze my dad all you want

Birdie

still scared of him. but I’m excited to get inspiration for my portfolio

Liam

don’t go changing things on me now

Birdie

I know, I like what I have. just might get a lil extra spark. thanks for letting me tag along. seriously.

Liam

don’t mention it. gotta keep you cultured

This kind of playful back-and-forth has quickly become one of my favorite parts of the day. Liam has a way of making things feel lighter, like whatever’s heavy in my life could just be tossed aside, at least for a little while.

When we first met, I didn’t expect him to be this easy to talk to. To click with. But it feels like he actually sees me, in a way that so few people do.

Birdie

just don’t let me embarrass you too much

Liam

trust me, if anyone’s guilty of that, it’ll be me. but if you’re there, I might actually survive the night

I smile, tucking my phone against my chest. He really wants me there beside him. He’s not just doing me a favor, humoring me; he actuallywantsme there. It’s new and thrilling, this feeling that I’m someone’s anchor in the middle of the chaos. And that maybe he’s mine, too.

Excitement buzzes in my chest—real, unfiltered excitement. Not the anxious kind or the sort that comes with a thousand doubts trailing behind it. Just the pure, giddy kind that makes me want to savor the moment. The fellowship, him, everything—it’s all starting to feel like it might just fall into place.

Friday night arrives quickly.I’m dressed in my Sunday best, a deep green dress and little brown Mary Janes. I slip on my coat, smoothing down my dress and adjusting the delicate silver bracelet my dad gave me. A present for my eighteenth birthday.

It once belonged to my mom. She left when I was barely old enough to remember, but Dad’s always spoken of her with kindness, as if her memory deserves to be cherished, not resented. He says I’m his greatest gift—but that she once was, too.

Tonight feels like the right time to wear it, to carry a piece of her with me. A small reminder of where I come from, of the broken pieces I’ve had to mend, and the person I’ve grown into despite them.

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