What We Left Behind

God, she had the most amazing eyes.

TONI

I wanted to ask Gretchen something else. I wanted to know everything there was to know about her.

It was just—

There was something about the way she was looking at me.

I love to talk. I talk constantly. When you’re talking, people always know you’re there.

But I didn’t have any words just then.

Not with her looking at me like that. Like she could see all the way inside me.

GRETCHEN

I leaned in to her ear again, even though we were close enough now that I didn’t need to. I swallowed my nervousness and asked, “Is that your girlfriend in the blue dress?”

Toni didn’t pull back. She didn’t answer, either. For an anxious second I thought she hadn’t heard me.

Finally she shook her head. “Just a friend.”

TONI

“Oh,” Gretchen said.

She was blushing.

God, she was adorable.

I nodded toward the blond guy who was now leading Renee around the room in a dramatic-looking tango. Everyone was watching them. Which meant they weren’t looking at Gretchen and me anymore. “What about you? What’s up with that guy?”

“Oh, right.” Gretchen glanced over, then turned back to me with a cute little quirk in her eyebrow. “I don’t know. My dad’s friend knows him or something? He’s all right. Not for me, though.”

She scrunched up her face adorably. God, everything this girl did was adorable.

“Not for you ’cause...why?” I asked.

She blushed again.

I seriously could not deal with how this felt.

Oh, my lord.

I was really, truly, genuinely about to melt into a puddle of utter uselessness.

Oh, my lord.

GRETCHEN

I was still nervous.

So nervous I didn’t know how I was even going to stay standing, let alone move.

So nervous I could hear my heart beating in my ears. Louder than the music. Louder than the people talking and clapping.

So nervous it was like I was floating outside my body, watching this whole thing play out from the ceiling of the hotel ballroom, somewhere near that carefully crafted balloon arch.

I was so nervous I could barely breathe.

But I kissed her anyway.

TONI

I melted.

1 (#ulink_e14f2a71-8939-5ee4-af97-c0a3d387328a)

AUGUST

SUMMER BEFORE FRESHMAN YEAR OF COLLEGE

1 YEAR, 10 MONTHS TOGETHER

TONI

I still melt every time I kiss Gretchen, but it’s different now.

That first night, back at a high school dance, we barely even knew each other’s name. Now we’re about to leave for college, and we know each other inside and out.

Before I met Gretchen, I wondered if I’d ever even have a real girlfriend. It seemed impossible, once. I’d gone out with other girls, sure, but nothing had ever lasted. I didn’t think I’d actually find anyone willing to put up with me for more than a month or two.

But I still daydreamed. I’d sit there in health class, my eyes soft-focused on the whiteboard while I pictured some pretty girl and me skipping hand in hand through daisy-strewn meadows, gazing into each other’s eyes, laughing at our little inside jokes and never, ever getting tired of each other. I used to think no real relationship could be as exciting as my health-class fantasy.

What blew me away was that the reality turned out to be so much more. I never imagined that being one half of a whole could make you feel more whole all by yourself. I never dreamed I’d want to tell someone all my secrets and know their secrets, too.

But now everything’s changing. I don’t know what our lives are going to be like after tomorrow, but at least I know that no matter what happens next, we’ll always have each other.

Knowing I can count on that is the only thing holding me in one piece while I count down our last few hours together. I’m trying to act like it’s not a big deal, but as the minutes tick by it’s getting harder and harder to pretend.

“Pass me the shampoo?” Gretchen asks. I find the Target bag with four bottles of Sun-Kissed Shiny Grapefruit and hand it over.

“You know, they do have stores in Boston,” I say as Gretchen loads the bag into a suitcase. I’m sitting in Gretchen’s desk chair, one of the only surfaces in the room that’s not covered in open boxes, suitcases and laundry baskets. “You don’t have to turn your dorm room into your own personal CVS.”

“You are so funny, T.” Gretchen kisses me on the cheek and grabs a stack of socks from the dresser. “You must teach me your ways. How much shampoo are you going to pack?”

“I already packed, but I’m not bringing any shampoo. I’ll get some when I’m up there. How are you going to take all these suitcases on the plane anyway? Are your parents going to pretend your bags are theirs or something?”