1. Orson
Chapter 1
Orson
Ten Years Ago
I stand at the edge of the school parking lot with my hands stuffed deep into my jeans pockets as I watch Winter toss her book bag in the back of her mom’s SUV. She laughs, tipping her head back slightly, as she probably recounts her last day of high school to her mother through the open window. It’s like a scene straight out of an indie film—the kind where you don’t know whether to be happy because it looks beautiful or sad because it feels like something is ending.
“Are you coming over later?” Winter shouts, snapping me out of my lovesick daze. Her voice punches a small hole through the anxiety gnawing at my chest.
“Yeah, of course I am,” I call back, nodding more to myself than her.
Winter waves and hops into the passenger seat, giving her mom a quick hug before they pull out of the parking lot. I’ve watched this scene hundreds of times, and I can count the minutes of how quickly I miss her as soon as she’s out of sight.
As I slowly walk toward the student lot, I promise myself I won’t let fear win. Winter and I have made plans—FaceTime calls, visits during holidays, and spending spring breaks together—but our promises feel flimsy when there’ll be 3,000 miles of American soil between us.
Winter wants me to stay positive, and I swear I’m trying. When I reach my car, I focus on California—about the drama program I’ve dreamed of attending since I was thirteen, performing scenes in front of a mirror in my bedroom. This should be the start of everything. But every step feels heavy with a silent question: Will the distance change us?
I throw my backpack into the backseat and slide behind the wheel. Before starting the engine, I grab my phone and send Winter a text:
Me: Can’t wait for tonight. We’ve got a whole summer before New York steals you away from me.
My screen lights up almost immediately with her reply.
Winter: I know :) But we’re Orson and Winter. We’ve weathered worse.
Hasn’t that always been our way? Even when doubt clouds our heads, we figure out how to push through it. Distance will create complications, but when two people love each other as much as we do, they make it work.
I rev the engine and zoom onto the road, my mind already racing about spending four whole years apart from my Winter. But I can’t let myself get too worked up, not when Winter believes it’s much more important to live in the present. We still have the entire summer to bask in the here and now instead of worrying over things that are out of our control. Plus, why waste valuable time arguing or doubting our future together?
Winter is right—we’re Orson and Winter, and we’ve weathered worse. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself as I pull up to my house and spot my mom preparing dinner through the kitchen window. Winter isn’t the only person I’ll miss seeing every day. She’s just the one who will keep me up every night.
Two hours later, I walk up the familiar path to Winter’s front door. There’s a hint of excitement in the air. Of course, I’m always thrilled to spend time with my girl, but tonight isn’t just any night—it’s the night before our graduation and the start of a new adventure. More than anything, I wish we were headed to the same place in the fall, but things didn’t work out that way, and we need to make the best of it.
I think if I keep saying that to myself, pretty soon I’ll believe it.
The door swings open before I can knock, and Winter practically bounces into my arms. Her blue eyes sparkle with affection, and I remind myself that she’s seen me at my worst and still thinks I can be something good. A smile flickers across her face, and her warm embrace thaws the nervous chill in my bones.
“Hey you,” I manage, my voice a little less steady than I’d hoped.
“Hey you,” she echoes back, pulling me inside by the edge of my jean jacket.
Her parent’s house always smells like cinnamon and vanilla, which always stirs my hunger when I walk in. Or maybe that’s Winter. It’s one of my favorite places to be. Unlike my family, who can be a bit cold and formal—at least with me—hers is lively and welcoming. After I say hello to her folks, we sneak off to her room, hoping to savor some alone time.
Winter’s room is barely lit by the glow of two tiny bedside lamps. The light dances playfully across her face, emphasizing the sharp angles of her jaw and the deep pools of her blue eyes. We spread a blanket on the creaky wooden floors—her crazy idea, because the bed would shield us if her parents burst through the locked door. That’s not their style, and there’s nothing to see. And we’d never go past second base while her parents were still awake.
Winnie lies closer, her fingertips dancing across my arm in a playful rhythm. Her touch speaks volumes, a secret language shared between two hearts that have been through it all. “I love you,” she whispers, the sound melding into the soft rock music playing from her new phone—a graduation gift from her aunt.
“You know how much I love hearing that,” I reply with a goofy grin. I reach to fix a stray strand of her hair, tucking it carefully behind her ear. “I love you, Winnie. I love you more than yesterday, the day before, and the day before that.”
The truth of my words hangs in the air between us. Graduation looms like a tsunami on the horizon, ready to crash down and push us toward infinite possibilities—college, careers, different cities, and a time when we’ll be back together—possibly married. But now, as I hold Winter close, those futures feel like a lifetime away.
“Do you ever think about the future? Where we'll be, and where we'll live?” Winter asks softly, her eyes searching mine for unspoken fears or dreams.
“All the time,” I admit, “especially lately. But when I imagine my future, you’re always in it.”
Winter grins mischievously, her eyes sparkling with an infectious energy that makes my heart skip a beat. We prattle on about our hopes, dreams, and aspirations—from performing to a sold-out crowd to winning an Academy Award. As our chatter dies down, we fall into a calm stillness. Our heartbeats sync up like a cheesy movie moment, and even our breaths seem to harmonize. It’s as if our bodies are protesting our inevitable separation and hoping we come to our senses.
As Winter nods off momentarily, I think about all that awaits us tomorrow—ceremonies and celebrations. Yet none of it seems daunting because Winter is by my side. No matter what drama comes at us this summer, it’ll never mess up this moment. As we lay entwined on her favorite blanket, with her ear pressed against my chest, listening to my heart beating with mad love for her, time seems irrelevant. Winter is my girl, and neither time nor distance will change that.