12

IT DOESN'T MATTER HOW much time separates us. Atlas and I will always orbit each other. I watch him leave the bookstore yet again, his head down to avoid notice. His gaze almost broke me, the way he looked at me when I held the butterfly from our shared dream. I watch as he gets into his truck, the way he runs a hand through his hair, defeated. I will myself not to care. But there is always a piece of my heart that belongs with him.

"I see Atlas didn't quite get the reunion he was hoping for." Priya sighs as she leans against the doorjamb.

"You knew he came in the other day." I don't say it like a question, because it isn't.

"I saw him the other day. You were tucked into the kids' section, tidying up. I knew he was looking for you when his eyes didn't even linger on any of the books. I know he loves books almost as much as you do."

I don't smile, though the overwhelming urge to reminisce comes upon me. I remember summers lying in the grass in the park, reading one chapter of a book, then handing it to Atlas to read. Back and forth.

I remember the way the sun felt on my skin, the way his smile would warm me up on the inside. We were kids, but there was something special about the friendship we had forged.

He'd always keep the books, because I never had room in my home for them.

"They're memories," he would say.

I close my eyes.

"I'm sorry," Priya says softly. "I guess when he hasn't been around in so long, it's hard to face him, especially when your heart has just started to heal."

When people think of heartbreak, they think of star-crossed lovers falling from the sky they danced in. A tumultuous romance made of ups and downs. But for Atlas and me, that wouldn't be the case. It's far more complicated.

Priya clears her throat. "You know, today's been pretty slow. Why don't you take the rest of the day off? Grab a book from the clearance bin. I know you've been eyeing some of them. It's on the house. You need some book therapy."

I shake my head. "What I need is for Atlas Jameson to get out of town and go back to where he thought he was better off."

"First love hurts," she says gently.

"It wasn't love." Even the word tastes bitter on my tongue. "Because love doesn't leave the way he did."

I wander to the clearance bin, grabbing the small paperback I've been eyeing for days. I go to the counter, refusing to leave. "I don't want to wander around feeling sorry for myself," I tell Priya, who is looking at me questioningly. "But I will sit here and read until it gets busy again."

"Okay," Priya relents. "I'll be in the back organizing the new shipment."

I open the book to the first page and start to read. I don't let my mind wander back to Atlas or the past. I don't want to remember when we were friends. Or even when I started wanting to be more. Because nothing will ever exist between us.

The bridge burned when he left me at my lowest point.