Page 2 of If the Stars Align
When she’s out of sight, I reach into the back pocket of my jeans and pull out my letter, hands shaking. I unfold it carefully and read the first lines, even though they’re all etched into my mind. I put the words on paper mere hours ago—but they’ve been living in my heart and soul for over a decade.
I loved you when you walked into Mrs. Delmonico’s kindergarten classroom on the first day of school, a bright-eyed little boy with your oversized blue backpack and scabbed knees.
It was 1985. I was standing alone in a quiet corner watching the other kids run around the room. I felt lonely and out of place—very much the “new girl,” even though we were all new.Until Ollie walked through the door and stood right next to me.
“I have a pet turtle at home,” he said to me. “Wanna see?”
“I love turtles,” I said, not knowing if that was true. But it didn’t matter. As of that day we were instant best friends—inseparable.
I loved you then, and I love you now, and every single moment in between. Like when we were nine, and you convinced my mom to let me go hiking with you for the first time.
Worrying is my mother’s love language, and she loves me tremendously. As a trauma surgeon, she spends her days troubleshooting life’s worst-case scenarios, and she shut me down mid-sentence when I asked for permission to go. Ollie decided to take matters into his own hands. At school the next morning, he marched right up to her and told her that I was a lot stronger than she gave me credit for. My mom stared at him icily. And that’s when Ollie flashed his irresistible grin. It was like magic—watching my mom’s pursed lips break into a smile as she conceded. Even back then, he had a way of charming people.
I loved you when we played spin the bottle at Evan Chen’s house in sixth grade, and you kissed me, even though the bottle was arguably pointing at Katie Klein.
Everything seemed to go in slow motion as Ollie crawled over to where I sat cross-legged on the lime green shag carpet, his perfectface approaching mine, which blazed with heat. I closed my eyes, and his lips landed on mine. He tasted like Orange Crush.
Afterward, I had this picture in my head of how things would be from then on. Me and Ollie on the tire swings, holding hands and sneaking kisses when no one was around.
But nothing changed in the slightest. I was so embarrassed, I couldn’t look him in the eye for weeks.
I even loved you when you had your first girlfriend. And I’ve spent every moment since then wondering if you’ll ever kiss me again.
Her name was Lisa Tucker—and evenbeforeshe dated Dex, I was always envious of her because she was the first girl in our class to get boobs (whereas, at eighteen, I can probably still fit into my old training bras). Dexnevertalks about other girls with me, but rumor had it he felt Lisa up in a dark corner of the roller rink at Mark Dunn’s fourteenth birthday party. I don’t know for sure, because I wasn’t invited. That was the first party Dex got invited to that I didn’t. But no matter how popular he gets, he doesn’t let the fame go to his head. He may walk the halls of our high school like he owns the place—all high fives and head nods—but he’s still my best friend. The kids at school even have a nickname for us—“Sunny D”—like the beloved orange drink we used to chug when we were eleven.
It’s sweet, yet bitter as well. Because, like a total cliché, I’m pining for the most popular boy in school. And while he’s out enjoying house parties and going on dates, I’m usually homealone, reading the latest addition to my stash of romance novels and trying not to think about which girl-du-jour Dex is kissing…and why the hell it isn’t me.
Maybe it doesn’t make sense—to tell you now, or to tell you like this. But I can’t keep denying what I know in my heart is true.
Oliver Dexter…I’m truly, madly, deeply in love with you.
Yes, the last line was inspired by Savage Garden. But that song perfectly captures how I feel. Because if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that I loved Oliver Dexter the moment I met him. And I love him more with every single breath I’ve taken since then.
I just haven’t had the courage to tell him until now.
That’s right—it’s showtime.
I carefully re-fold the letter along its original creases and return it to my back pocket because my hands are getting sweaty, and I don’t want to give my heart to Dex on a soggy piece of notebook paper. I dart across the hall and make my way to the door that leads backstage. The intermission is fifteen minutes long, and I’ve spent more than half of it talking to Mia, re-reading my letter, and wondering if anyone has ever died from unrequited love because, what if he rejects me? What if he laughs in my face? What if his eyes crinkle with pity, and he says he doesn’t feel the same way? What if?—
“Five more minutes, guys! Make your way back to the auditoriumplease!” the drama teacher, Ms. Mack, yells from across the hall.
Dammit. Okay, this is it. I’m going in.
I fling open the backstage door and run up the steps before I have a chance to question myself again. Right away, I see Dex in the wings offstage. He smiles, and a wave of calm washes over me.
But the moment of calm is fleeting. Because when I realize what Dex is smiling at—orwhom, to be exact—a colossal surge of anxiety snatches my serenity in one fell swoop, like a riptide.
He’s smiling at Jenna Andersen.
PerfectJenna Andersen. The Homecoming Queen. The Head Cheerleader. The Most Popular Girl in School.
He doesn’t see me standing at the top of the steps. His eyes are fixed onher. Jenna’s back is turned to me, but I can hear her giggle as she flips her flawless hair—glossy and straight and obnoxiously obedient, unlike my curls, which have a mind of their own. Since she moved to Beachwood in sixth grade, I haven’t stopped comparing myself to her. She’s the perfectly proportioned, all-American, girl next door. And I am…not.
As I watch her stand on her tiptoes, my own feet begin to tingle, and when she wraps her arms around his neck, I lose all feeling in my hands. My brain is struggling to catch up, but my gut knows exactly what’s about to happen next.
She kisses him.
I can’t believe this. She beat me to the punch.
