Page 16 of It Happened Back Then
I shake my head. “No, it was way before then.”
Her eyes get even wider. “Tell me.”
“He was my first,” I say quietly, and she screams. I smack at her as the doorbell rings, signaling a customer walked in. “Shh! Get control of yourself.”
“Oh, sweet sister,” Meadow coos and loops her arm with mine as we walk to the counter to wait to see if the customer needs us. “Please tell me you’ve slept with other people since then and you’re not still wanting him after he fumbled his way through the first time?”
“I have, Meadow. You know this. But there’s just something with Bennett and me. You know he’s been my best friend since we were kids.”
“Wait. So all throughout high school, yourbest friendstatus was really friends with benefits?”
“Mead! I told you to stop!”
“I’m just trying to understand the dynamic here so I can help you!”
“It was more than that. We loved each other. We were together like that for a couple years, but….” I trail off, not wanting to talk about what happened to make everything change.
“Bloss, childhood best friends is vastly different than being best friends as adults. And there’s a huge difference between young lovers and making an adult romantic relationship work. Your lives change; people move and die. Everything about both of you is different than it was then. You deserve more. You deserve better.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes better is taken.”
Seeing him today, brought back every feeling I’ve ever had for him. We’re older now. Why can’t we make our own decisions? I’ll never be good enough for him in his father's eyes, but we’re not kids anymore. They can’t tell us what to do. And I need to stop letting others keep me away from him.
CHAPTER 6 - BENNETT, AGE 24
Seeing Blossom today waswow. She looked amazing. Thick curves, her same long dark hair, eyes that stared right into my soul. I knew going into her store would be so much more than just a visit. I was coming home.
Home.
I drive around Blue moon, our promised paper in hand. The rain’s coming down just like it did the night we were first together, soft and steady, like a rhythm only Bluemoon knows. The pact we made plays over in my mind, a silly, teenage love that had us breaking out the pen and paper, writing our our full names and proclaiming we’d find our way back to each other and get married.
And then we sealed that pact with our virginity.
It was amazing and scary and everything I wanted for my first time because it was with Blossom.
Come morning, I thought she’d regret her decision, but she didn’t. In fact, we went as far as taking our paper to school and having two of our friends ‘witness’ it by signing on the bottom line with us. I wrapped it up and kept it all these years as a treasured keepsake.
Worn, yellowed, edges curling, and still it smells like home. I don’t even know why I kept it this long. Maybe because part of me always believed I’d need it someday to convince her what I’ve always known.
Blossom’s handwriting, her beautiful script, with mine a mess beside it. God, we were just kids. Sixteen, thinking we’d already seen the worst life could offer, seen how fragile it is, but not having a clue that love could hurt so much deeper.
As I pull up to a red light, I trace the words with my thumb.
“If not married by 27, we find each other again. In Bluemoon. And we try.”
We didn’t pinky swear like kids. We signed it, had itwitnessed. Like it was gospel. Like that piece of paper could stop time or keep us tied together when everything else tried to pull us apart.
And maybe, in some ways, it did.
It’s stupid, but right now, it’s the only thing that still feels simple. That pact, years ago, was the last time I felt like Iknewwhat we were, and what we could be. It could be so easy to just choose her now, if she’d let me.
I’ve been living in Seattle, I’ve dated, I’ve experienced life, like she wanted me to. But everything I’ve done has been with a memory of Blossom, of that night and of our promise.
So yeah, maybe it was just teenage fantasy. But if it’s the only thing keeping her tied to me, I’ll believe in it with my whole damn heart.
Because it wasn’t a joke to me.
Not then.
