Chapter 27

The longest weekof the summer flew by and after doing nothing but reading and laying out, I figured it was finally time to leave the cabin. I walked up the driveway to Willow's house. Red plastic cups and crumpled napkins littered the lawn while groups of kids laughed and chatted on the porch. I tossed my hair behind my shoulder and took a deep breath before stepping inside.

The air was hot and heavy with the smell of sweat and spilled beer. I wove my way through the crowded living room, scanning for familiar faces.

"Chandler!" Willow's voice rang out from the kitchen. She skipped over to me and squeezed me tightly. "You made it! Get yourself a drink and come hang. I haven't seen you since the ball. I'm excited to catch up with you!"

I followed her to the counter as she was throwing away bottles and helped myself to some punch. The sugary liquid courage eased my nerves. "Great party!"

Willow grinned. "Thanks! There's more people here than I hoped for, but word always gets around quickly in Bayside."

She tipped her cup towards me. "Jello shots are on the counter if you want one."

"Thanks," I said, grabbing a cup and throwing it back, relishing the sweet fruity taste.

Willow leaned against the counter, looking wistful. "Crazy how summer's already over. Are you excited for another school year?"

"I guess so. It'll be nice to get back in the swing of things," I admitted. "But I'll miss you."

Willow smiled and squeezed my arm. "You can't get rid of me that easily. I'll be texting you every chance I get and you're only a few hours away. I will definitely come visit."

I laughed. "You're right."

We clicked our cups together in a cheers before heading to the party, determined to make the most of my last night of summer before heading back home tomorrow.

Out back, there were several people that surrounded a game of beer pong while others lounged on the patio furniture. Shirtless guys horsed around, tossing a football. And there was Boston, leaning against the wall, red solo cup in hand, surrounded by a group of girls. His blue eyes looked glazed and his words slurred as he entertained his admirers. His hair was tousled and his eyes distant in a way I'd never seen before. Something about him seemed off.

"Chandler! Over here!" Willow's friend Paola waved at me from across the room. I gave Boston one last glance before making my way over to her. We chatted for a bit, but my eyes kept drifting back to Boston. He chugged his drink and then grabbed another.

I had known him for more years than I could count, but tonight I didn't recognize him. The last time I saw him was the night of the ball on the dock. I thought things were good between us but he's been avoiding me. I took a deep breath and headed his way—hoping maybe he'd let me in.

Before I could stop myself, I was pushing through the crowd toward him. "Boston!" I called out.

He turned, surprise flickering across his face. "Chandler! What's up?"

"I have hardly seen you this week," I said.

Boston shifted on his feet, glancing around uncomfortably. "Yeah, I have some of my own shit going on."

One of the girls draped herself over his shoulder. "Who's your friend, Boston?" she purred.

I frowned. But before I could say anything more, the girl next to Boston grabbed him and they disappeared into the crowd, leaving me standing there alone and confused. What was going on with him?

Later, I wandered back into the quieter kitchen for a break. And there was Reese, leaning casually against the counter, swirling a freshly made drink. Our eyes met.

"Hey," he said, sounding defeated. An awkward tension hung between us, and I still hadn't responded to his calls or texts since the ball. I shifted my weight, unsure of what to say. Reese took a sip of his drink.

"Some party, huh?" His signature smirk appeared, but it seemed half-hearted. I nodded mutely. I missed the excitement of what summer was supposed to be—easy, fun. Not this mess of complicated emotions. When others started to crowd into the kitchen, I slipped back into the crowd, more confused than ever. A part of me expected Reese to follow me, to demand we talk, but he didn't and I can't blame him. I had been avoiding him, but I wasn't in the mood to deal with any of that right now.

It wasn't until later that evening that I finally ran into Boston again. He sat sprawled on the patio couch as a girl giggled on his lap, her hands entwined in his shirt as if she were claiming territory, while two others sat by closely, their bodies pressed against his side, all of them wanting his attention. There was never a shortage of girls around here—-throwing themselves at the players, hoping to catch their eye. Boston was basking in the attention and drunk—there was no mistaking the sloppiness of his movements or the way he laughed at their jokes that probably weren't even funny.

"Okay, that's enough," I said to myself, feeling a surge of frustration. I marched over, my resolve hardening with each step, and I reached out to grasp his arm. "Boston, we need to talk." I raised my voice over the girls he was with.

He blinked, his focus shifting as he tried to make sense of my presence. The girl on his lap pouted, "Hey! Where are you taking him?"

"He'll be right back," I shot back, not caring for the sharp glares the trio sent my way.

"Alright, alright," he relented, though he cast a regretful glance back at the girls as I led him away from the couch. They huffed in unison, their annoyance showing, but I didn't give them a second thought. Whatever was going on with Boston, whatever had driven him to this point, we were going to hash it out.

"Tell me what's going on with you," I demanded, the words punctuated by the pulsing music that I could still hear playing nearby.

Boston chuckled, a hollow sound that almost seemed forced. "You wouldn't want to know." His gaze flicked away, then back, in a challenge. "Last time I told you how I felt, you blew me off."

I stared at him, incredulous, and in a swift motion pulled the half-empty cup from his hand. The liquid sloshed over the sides, but I barely noticed. "I didn't blow you off," I countered, feeling an anger boil in my chest.

"Didn't you?" He arched an eyebrow. "Because I'm pretty sure that's exactly what you did."

"That's not what it was," I said, my voice softening despite myself. "I've been waiting to hear you say you liked me since I was five years old, Boston. I've always had this stupid crush on you. I always hoped—hoped so badly—you'd see me as more than just Parker's little sister."

His features softened too, the lines of tension easing as he took in my words. There was a vulnerability there that I'd never seen before, a raw honesty that made him seem less like the carefree athlete and more like the boy next door I grew up with.

"Well, look at that." Boston's voice had an edge of exasperation as he reached for the cup in my grasp. "You never said a word about how you felt, either." His hand closed over mine, skin warm against mine as he held it there for a moment.

Then he shook his head, tugging the cup free with an effortless pull. "Just leave me alone, okay? Let me deal with shit how I want." The warmth had vanished from his tone, replaced by a cold dismissal that stung worse than I expected.

"You don"t have to deal with anything alone. I want to be there for you." I took a breath, hoping to persuade him. "Let"s get out of here, and you can tell me what"s going on."

For a split second, I thought I saw something vulnerable flash in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Nah, I"m good," he replied with a casual shrug.

I hadn"t expected him to push me away so easily, so effortlessly. He glanced around the backyard, his gaze flickered through the crowd. "Isn"t Reese around here somewhere? Isn"t that who you really want?"

The question stung with a bitterness that was unfamiliar coming from Boston.

"I didn"t even think things with you were a possibility, and then you told me at the worst time." My voice sounded more desperate than I"d intended, but I needed him to hear me out.

"I"m not in the mood for these excuses tonight." He cut me off, and the blue in his eyes seemed to darken more with each word. "Just leave me alone."

"Fine," I whispered, stepping back as if his words had physically pushed me.

He turned away without looking back. The girls erupted into giggles and squeals as he approached, their arms reaching out to reclaim him. Boston slumped down between them, forcing a smile as he lifted his cup in a salute before downing its contents.

I stood there, watching, feeling like I was five years old again—on the outside, looking in. Except this time, I knew Boston wasn't going to come to my rescue with fireflies in the backyard. Those days were gone, and maybe the old Boston was gone too.

After a while, I noticed Boston drank more than he could handle and my gaze flickered around until it landed on Parker, who was chatting with a group of friends a few feet away. I called out, "Parker! A little help here!"

He excused himself and jogged over, concern etching his features as he took in the worry on my face. "What's going on?"

"He's had too much to drink," I said, looking over at Boston. "Can we get him home?"

He smiled and nodded his head. "You know I got him."

Parker"s hands were steady as he looped one of Boston"s arms over his shoulders, guiding him toward the car.

"Come on, buddy," Parker urged gently, but with an underlying firmness.

"Parker, don"t be like that!" a girl near Boston chimed in, her words stretching out in an almost childish moan.

"Sorry, ladies," he said, his tone light but leaving no room for negotiation. "Funs over."

I trailed behind them, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. Any other night, I might have found myself rushing to help, but tonight... Tonight, I was too upset at Boston.

We didn't say a word the entire car ride to the cabin, and I just wanted this night to be over.

"Chandler, can you grab the door?" Parker called back to me, his voice pulling me from my thoughts as he helped Boston to the porch.

"Sure," I sighed, pushing the door open wider as they approached. Still not a word exchanged between Boston and me—my silence was a heavy reminder of whatever was going on between us.

Inside, Parker navigated the path to the couch with practiced ease, lowering Boston down onto the cushions. "There we go," he sighed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Thanks, man," Boston slurred, barely awake.

"Water. Drink," Parker instructed, pressing a water bottle into Boston"s hands before giving me a look that said "he"ll be okay."

"Let"s get you some aspirin too," I heard Parker continue, his tone patient but insistent.

I lingered on the threshold, the night air still clinging to my skin. My feet felt rooted to the spot as Parker tended to Boston, and without thinking, I turned back towards the porch.

My breath hitched. It was as though time stuttered, and for a heartbeat, everything stilled. There, under the glow of the porch light, my eyes locked onto something impossible. Was I seeing things? I blinked hard, trying to dispel the illusion, but when my vision cleared, it was still there. How is it possible?