3. Chandler

THREE

chandler

"This is what's out in the dating world right now," Kristina declared, her voice a pitch higher than usual. She turned her phone screen toward me, pointing to a profile with the username “Papi Likes Butts.” Appalled, she shook her head, still trying to decipher what she was seeing.

I pressed my lips together to keep the laugh from escaping, watching as Kristina scrolled dramatically through the photos of a man who was clearly more in love with his own abs than any potential date.

"Can you believe this?" Her tone was incredulous as she dissected each photo—the flexing, the abs, the lack of any actual face photos. “I even extended the radius from here to Bayside, hoping to find better options.”

"He could be really nice," I offered, which earned me an eye roll from her.

But as I tapped absentmindedly on my phone screen, my amusement faded, replaced by curiosity, and I wasn’t sure where it was coming from. I suddenly wondered if Reese was on dating apps, or with anyone new. My thoughts quickly started spiraling. Reese Carrington—the bad boy with so much more depth than people knew. I saw glimpses of what lay beneath that carefree exterior. I wondered if he had a dating profile. Would he be shirtless, flaunting those piercing green eyes? Or would he have candid shots of him on his boat—reading, revealing the depth I was only just beginning to understand?

My fingers acted of their own accord, keying in his name. Flicking through Reese's Instagram grid, my thumb paused on a photo of him sitting in an empty stadium, his green eyes looking into the distance, a half-smile playing on his lips. No sign of his ex-girlfriend, Blair, or her polished presence in any frame. Just Reese, alone or with friends, in landscapes and cityscapes. It was a strange relief that there weren’t girls draped all over him, no evidence of a romance for me to agonize over. Yet it also left an unsettling void, a space where answers should have been but weren't. I never responded to his text message on my birthday. He cut off whatever fragile connection we'd cultivated at the end of last summer—and it now seemed drenched in unreal memories. Checking on him through these glimpses online hurt—it was a reminder that I was just another spectator of his life.

Thank goodness for Kristina, the one who endured my relentless analysis of every moment spent with Reese last summer. Her patience never wavered as I recounted each smile, each touch, each word that passed between us. She had become an unwitting participant in the tangled web of emotions and revelations last summer had left me with.

Kristina had been there through it all, listening to my shock, my confusion, my heartache as I tried to reconcile the two versions of Reese I knew: the boy who Parker and Boston said he was, and the man who’d shown glimpses of something deeper. From Boston’s unexpected confession of his feelings, to the bomb that dropped on top of it all… I thought back to the kindness she showed me while I struggled during the school year.

The stage lights dimmed, and the final notes of the closing song played as the curtain shut slowly. I made my way to the dressing room and there, on my vanity, sat the most beautiful bouquet of roses. The vivid red was striking against the bright white of the tabletop.

I picked up one of the roses, feeling the velvety smoothness of its petals between my fingers. The faintest smile touched my lips as I placed the rose back among the others. Kristina pretended they weren’t from her when I thanked her, but I knew they must be.

It was a ritual at every show. Her silent gesture spoke louder than words ever could.

Kristina squealed, jolting me out of my memories. Her face contorted in horror as she recounted the dating app atrocity unfolding on her phone. "Papi Likes Butts just asked me for a picture of my feet. He said that feet tell him everything he needs to know about a woman. And even worse... He sent me a picture of his feet," she shrieked, her voice hitting a pitch that could shatter glass. "Why would I want a picture of his feet? A dick pic, okay, I can deal with that, but his rugged big feet?" In disgust, she threw her hands up in the air. It was the foot that broke the camel's back.

I bit my lip, struggling to keep my own laughter from spilling out. It wasn't that I found his request particularly humorous—it was the unfiltered terror on her face that I couldn’t stop myself from laughing at.

Just then my phone dinged, a gentle chime that tore my attention away from Kristina's rant. She continued to ramble about the absurdity of modern courtship, but my gaze drifted down to a message from Willow that flashed across the screen.

Willow

Are you coming to Bayside this summer?

My thoughts drifted back to Bayside, where the sun danced on the water's surface and the days stretched into even better nights. But, I had no intention of going back there this summer.

Me

No. :(

Willow

Seriously?! Ugh need ur help!

Me

With what?

I'm going to my parents. Helping my mom tackle some projects around the house.

Willow

Dad is making me work my way up on the coaching ladder. He says I need to be on the Blue Devils committee this year. Was hoping you'd be my saving grace and join with me.

You could even stay with me for the summer…

Doesn't pay a ton, but has some nice perks.

Me

Sounds exciting. Wish I could help!

Willow

I get it

Offer stands if you change your mind! love u.

A sigh escaped me. The offer was tempting. It would be a summer with Willow, uncontrollable laughter, and memories I’d probably never forget. But I couldn’t be around Boston or Reese—not just in their presence, but pulled into the same orbit as Reese, who’d ended things with me last summer. The thought of facing him again twisted my insides into knots. And there was Boston, who I didn’t recognize at the moment. I quickly typed another response before putting my phone back down on the couch beside me.

Me

love u too!

How could I step foot in Bayside, knowing the chaos it would create? Attending some of Parker's games and hiding in the shadows was one thing. Actively participating in the committee and being forced to hang around both of them was an entirely different situation.

"Chandler!" Kristina's voice pulled me back. She was peering at me now, her earlier rant forgotten, replaced by a look of concern.

"Foot guy still bothering you?" I asked Kristina, redirecting the conversation back to her and away from my own internal conflict.

"Ugh, his username should really be Papi Likes Feet," she groaned, but the sparkle in her eyes told me she'd already moved on. I couldn't help but smile at her playful teasing, a signature of her charm.

But Kristina caught the flicker of my fading amusement. "Hey," she said, her tone softening with concern. "How have you been doing since your birthday?" Her eyes searched mine, seeking the truth.

"I've been fine," I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. Being around Boston stirred up more emotions than I’d expected. "It just… brought back memories, you know?"

"Memories," Kristina echoed, her voice laced with understanding. She knew the depth of it all without another word.

"Yeah," I sighed. "I didn't expect Boston to show." I honestly wasn’t sure why he came. After spending the entire year hidden away, why had he chosen my birthday to finally make an appearance?

Kristina's expression warmed, her confidence unwavering. "I knew he'd show," she said, her belief in him—and perhaps in us—was clear. "You're the Topanga to his Cory, Chandler. If you said jump, he'd dive off a mountain without a thought."

"I’m the what?" I asked.

"Seriously? You've never heard of Cory and Topanga?"

I shrugged. "No, who are they?"

"They're like..." she paused, searching for the words. "The epitome of childhood sweethearts. My mom made me watch this show... Basically two people just destined to be together."

A tiny laugh escaped me, despite the turmoil inside. Boston was the king of mixed signals, the type of person to confess his feelings at the most inconvenient moment, or disappear for months then suddenly appear on your birthday. Case in point.

I forced my eyes up to meet hers under the weight of my next thought. "That's not true, Kris. I don’t think there’s much he cares about besides baseball these days." My throat tightened at the admission. "He looks like Boston—well, a more toned Boston—and he smells like Boston, but it's like he's just disconnected from everything else."

Kristina leaned forward, her elbows on the table, expression soft yet serious. "Think about what he went through, Chan," she urged gently. "Knowing your mom kept a secret brother from you your entire life? How could he not be disconnected?”

I nodded slowly, absorbing her empathy for him. She was right. Boston's world had been turned upside down, the ground beneath him shaken by secrets and lies. But the Boston I knew, sweet-natured, always protective—that didn’t just go away.

"Yeah, I get it," I murmured, tracing the rim of my coffee mug with a fingertip. "I just hope he doesn't lose sight of himself."

"Maybe he’s just a different person now,” she said gently.

I shook my head. "I don’t even know if the old Boston is still in there," I said quietly, more to myself than to her. My conviction surprised even me, yet it was unshakeable.

"Well, if anyone can find out, it’s you," she said, not a question but a statement—a belief in my strength and in the childhood bond that tied me to Boston Riley.

My mind drifted back to the moment he’d walked into my birthday party, to the unexpected softness when he kissed my cheek. For an instant, as his lips brushed my skin, there was a flicker in his bright blue eyes, a flash of warmth that transported me back to all the special moments we’d shared as kids. In that fleeting encounter I saw the Boston I’d grown up with, the one whose laughter was a melody that resonated with the rhythm of my own heart.