Prologue

August 21st

7:05 p.m.

This was it. The end of my childhood. Eighteen years, I'd been living in this small town, and I was now an adult and more than ready to leave. My older sister, Olivia, had moved away from home to live in London, and I knew that was also where I eventually wanted to live, so I'd applied to London Southwark University. To my surprise, my parents were enthusiastic about the move—probably because they expected Liv to keep an eye on me, which made the thought of leaving home easier.

Tonight was the night to right my wrongs. I was going to leave my school life behind with no regrets, and that involved a chat with my former best friend-turned-enemy-turned-casual acquaintance…

"We're gonna be best friends forever, aren't we?" I looked at Ryan Jackson, who was sitting on the grass, rolling our mud-splattered football around with one outstretched foot. His dark hair was streaked with mud, too, as were his legs. Much like mine.

"Yeah. Course we are." His hazel eyes sparkling in the sun, he gave me one of his big grins, the kind he didn't give to anyone else. I liked that I was special to him. We'd been best friends ever since we'd been placed at the same table at preschool and I'd let him use my red crayon for the picture he was drawing. Now we were eight, and we were stronger than ever. It was so cool having a best friend. We both liked sports and superhero movies. Except his favourite superhero was Thor, and mine was Captain America. Everyone knew that Captain America was the best.

But we were best friends, and we always would be.

* * *

"Come on. Don't be a baby."

"I'm not a baby!" I shouted, folding my arms across my chest with a huff as I glared up at Ryan. It was just…the monkey bars were high. And I didn't want to be all the way up there.

"You don't have to be scared."

"I'm not!" Fine. I'd show Ryan Jackson that I wasn't too scared to do this.

Reaching out and wrapping one clammy palm around the bars, I made myself put a foot on the frame and then started climbing.

When I reached the top, I grinned at Ryan. "See? Told you I wasn't scared." It didn't feel as high from up here.

"You were."

"Wasn't." I shoved at him, and he wasn't expecting it. His mouth opened, and he just…fell. All the way to the bottom, and I'd never forgotten the thump his body made against the rubber surface.

After that, everything was a blur. He was crying, and I was crying, and then his mum came running over, and then he was taken away from me.

It turned out that he'd broken his arm. I'd broken his arm. It was an accident, but it was still my fault. And it had consequences—he could no longer attend the summer camp we'd both been planning to go to.

After that, we weren't best friends anymore. He didn't want to speak to me again.

Things never really improved. I guess we might have drifted apart eventually, anyway, but at age eight, that incident was enough to fracture more than just Ryan's arm. We found our own friend groups and never really interacted unless we had to in the classroom. Looking back, if either of us had attempted to patch things up—me, especially—I think we would've been able to stay friends, but I was full of childish hurt and guilt, and he was still angry that his broken arm had meant him missing out on the sports summer camp we'd been planning to attend together.

Then, before I knew it, school was over. From what I'd heard through friends of friends, Ryan was applying for a uni place through the clearing process, aiming to study sports sciences at one of the universities up north. Tomorrow morning, I was moving to London to start my degree in business and computing, and I wanted to leave on a good note. I needed to tell Ryan that I wished things could've been different. Wished that we could've stayed friends. That I regretted not making more of an effort to make things right between us.

There was something else, too. Something I'd be keeping to myself because there was no point in sharing it with him, not when we were going our separate ways.

The truth was, I was gay—I'd known it since I was twelve, and I'd known for almost as long that Ryan Jackson was incredibly gorgeous. So gorgeous that he made my breath catch in my throat and my heart race. But Ryan had a girlfriend…or had done until recently. Had several girlfriends, in fact. No one serious, and I'd heard through the grapevine that he'd had a mutual breakup with Kasia because she was going to uni up in Scotland, and neither of them was interested in a long-distance relationship. I mean, it was possible that he was bisexual, but I was under no illusions that he'd ever be interested in me. And like I'd said, we were all going our separate ways.There was no point in pursuing anything, even if I'd had the opportunity. It was just an inconvenient crush that would soon go away.

So, inconvenient crush aside, my goal was to get Ryan to talk to me tonight and to leave my school years behind on a good note. And I was going to do that tonight when we saw each other at the leavers' party.

Wish me luck, I mouthed to my reflection.

Here goes nothing.

* * *

8:45 p.m.

I looked across the crowded pub to where Ryan was standing, leaning against the wall with his hands shoved in his pockets, and my heart constricted painfully. Fuck. I'd wasted so much time. I had to make it up to him before it was too late.

It seemed as if he was attuned to my gaze because he glanced over, his lips tipping up into a hesitant smile as his eyes found mine. My stomach flipped. He was so gorgeous.

Raising my glass to him, I returned his smile with an equally hesitant one. Swallowing hard, I gathered my courage and pushed my way through the crowds towards him.

"Can't believe this is the last time we'll all be together," I said, aiming for casual. I had to lean into him to be heard over the sound of the live band, and I did my best to ignore the way he smelled—a fresh, woodsy fragrance that made me want to lean in even farther, to taste it on his skin.

I leaned back instead.

"Yeah. What are your plans?" His voice was just as casual, and I wondered if he was as nervous as I was inside. Probably not. I doubted he even gave any thought to something that had happened a decade ago.

"Uh. Uni. I'm leaving tomorrow, actually. What about you?"

"I applied for a few sports science courses through clearing. I'm still waiting to hear from them, but my results were good, so I'm hopeful. Manchester's my top choice, but it depends if they have any spaces."

"Good luck. Not that you'll need it."

"Thanks." Glancing at someone over my shoulder, he dipped his head in acknowledgement, and I knew I needed to get a move on with the real reason for my being here.

"Ryan? Can I talk to you for a minute? It's…it's important."

His brows rose, but after a moment, he nodded.

"Thanks. Uh…outside? It's a bit loud in here."

"Alright."

Pushing open the heavy doors, I stepped outside into the night, weaving my way through the people congregating around the outdoor heaters. I made my way to the bottom of the beer garden and took a seat on top of one of the wooden bench tables that were spaced out across the grassy area. Leaning back on my elbows, I stared up at the night sky, my hearing slowly returning to normal after the assault on my ears from the band's speaker system.

"Sam?"

Turning my head, I met Ryan's hazel eyes, bright in the glow from the string of lights that ran down the side of the fence bordering the beer garden. He hopped up on the table next to me, resting his feet on the bench seat.

Fuck. He was so close. His thigh pressed against mine, our hands almost touching as we leaned back on the wooden surface. Lately, every time he was near me with no one else around, the urge to lean into him, to touch him, became almost too strong to deny. I clenched my fists, pressing them against the wood to ground myself.

"Alright?" I gave him a nod, playing it cool.

He stared straight ahead, his face pensive. After a long moment, he sighed. "What did you want to talk about, Sam?"

Sitting up straight, I clasped my suddenly shaking hands. He mimicked my pose, straightening up, although he remained facing ahead.

It was now or never. "I wanted to say…" Clearing my throat, I tried again. My heart was pounding, and the words came out all in a rush. "I'm sorry. For the broken arm. For not trying harder to get our friendship back. For everything. Fuck. I should've done this years ago. I'm sorry."

His head turned to mine, and his voice turned low and hoarse. "Why now? Why not back then?" Before I could reply, he shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have blamed you back then. I know it was an accident. But it turned out okay in the end, didn't it? You had your friends, and I had mine. We're not… We're alright now, aren't we? I don't hold a grudge, at least."

It turned out okay in the end. The sudden lump in my throat made it difficult to speak. "No," I croaked out. "No, I don't hold a grudge."

"Good. Then we can put it behind us. You're sorry, I'm sorry. It's all good." His gaze flicked to the pub doorway, and he shifted towards the edge of the table. "Is that everything, or?—"

He was going to leave. This could be my one and only chance. Without even thinking it through, I lunged forwards and slammed my mouth down on his.

Less than half a second later, I realised what a mistake I'd made.

"What the fuck!" He shoved me away from him, and I lost my balance, tumbling off the table and onto the floor. As I fell, I glimpsed the shock written all over his face.

Why had I tried to kiss him?

Why?