Isla and I share a look as we get out of the car, parked behind the familiar red jeep that Conrad had taken out this morning. He was finally home. "Okay, you've got this," Isla tells me, fluffing up my hair slightly, "just go back there and ask him to the Deb. Easy peasy."

    "Easy peasy?" I laugh as she digs through her bag for something, "what are we five?"

     "Haha," She fake laughs, grabbing my purse from me and digging through it. She tosses me a lip balm and gloss from my bag, silently asking me to put them on. I do as told. Both products are scented to smell like peaches, the same scent I'd had on my lips the night Conrad and I kissed the first time, "teeth check."

    I roll my eyes but show off my teeth anyway. Isla and I had a system, especially at school. Before she'd go talk to a guy she was interested in, we did our five main checks before sending her off, "smell," I fish through my purse, lightly spritzing the mini body spray I carried around.

    "Breath," She hands me a tic-tac from her purse. She always carried mints around, claiming to hate the taste of leftover food in her mouth, "and outfit," She gestures for me to spin, and I do, still wearing the baby blue dress from earlier.

    "Good?" I asked, smoothing down the material of my skirt.

    "Perfect," She nods before spinning me around and lightly pushing my shoulders towards the open back gate leading to the pool, "I'll be in your room waiting for updates."

    I nod at her before walking to the backyard, taking in a nervous breath as I do. As I turn the corner, I spot Conrad cleaning up his mom's paint stuff. His hair is messily hanging over his forehead, and I long to brush it back, and run my fingers through his effortlessly soft hair. You can do this, Florence. I mentally pump myself up. You know how he feels. Just be honest with him that he's the only guy you can see yourself dancing with at the debutante, that you feel the same way as he does. "You're back," I greet him, trying not to sound as giddy as I feel.

    Conrad looks over his shoulder at me, nodding, "Hey." He smiles politely but wipes it off his face so quickly I almost miss it.

    "Uh, let me help you," I say, picking up scattered paintbrushes on the floor as Conrad moves to grab something else. I get he has a hard time being super open, but he's being weird, different than how he was this morning.

    "So," He starts, and I stand up straighter, my eyes hopeful. "How's you and your mom?" 

     "My mom?" I ask, slightly disappointed. After everything that happened between the two of us last night, the last thing I wanted to talk about it my mom, who I hadn't spoken to since our argument, "I, uh... We're..." I stammer, "it's complicated right now."

    "Gotcha," Conrad nods, taking paintbrushes from me. His fingers brush my own as he moves to put them with the rest of his mom's painting stuff, and a spark shoots up my arm, one that he doesn't notice, or at least pretends not to. "Thanks."

    "So, uh," I walk back up the steps, fiddling with the rings on my fingers, "I was wondering if we could continue our conversation from last night?"

    "What conversation?" Conrad's back is turned to me, and despite his best efforts, I know he knows exactly what I'm talking about. His voice cracks as he talks, indicating his lies.

    "You told me you liked me?" I remind him, though my words come out more like a question than a statement.

    "Oh, did I?" He asks. He forces a chuckle as if it was some silly mistake and not a moment that I've been playing in my head on repeat since, "I was pretty wasted. I don't really remember much." He runs his fingers through his hair, his tone unconvincing.

    "Are you serious?" I ask him, a weak laugh falling past my lips. I follow him as he walks away from his mom's stuff, standing in front of him now, a few inches taller due to the steps.

    Conrad looks up at me, opening his mouth and then closing it just as quickly. I knew him too well. For starters, he's the kind of drunk that remembers everything, no matter how wasted they are, and when he's a terrible liar, I know all of his tells, "Okay," He gives in, "I told you I liked you." I stare at him blankly. Why is he acting like this? How is this the same boy who showed up at dance rehearsal this morning to see me, with messy hair and a giddy smile? "Wha-what do you want me to say? I'm sorry?"

    "Are you sorry?" I ask, quirking my brow, "do you think last night was a mistake or something?"

    "I don't know," He shrugs. He looks like I've hurt him, which is beyond crazy, "I don't..." I shake my head at him, letting out a disappointed breath. I don't know why I thought things could get better between us. I should never have led with my heart. I should have known better, "Flo, I think about you." Conrad tells me, sighing, "Like I do all the time. You know I do. I just... can't."

    He can't? I want to scream at him, and ask what the hell that means; but I can't let Conrad to keep dragging me down, I won't. "I'm done, Conrad," I shake my head. Part of me wants to shove him away and into the pool behind him. The other wants to barely hold it together, all my happiness shattering like pieces of glass. "Please just leave me alone for the rest of the summer, okay?"

    He nods, and the shattered pieces of my heart somehow break even more because he isn't going to fight for me. He's happy with me walking away right now and leaving it all behind. I shake my head at him one last time, disappointed and hurt, before walking back into the house, leaving Conrad to clean up our mom's messes on his own.

    "Flo?" Isla calls out as I begin walking up the stairs, my flip-flops making noise against the wooden staircase. She sounds excited, eager to hear what happened between Conrad and me, "how'd it go? Did he say yes? Did you guys-" She stops rambling once I walk into the room, her eyes landing on me, "what happened?"

    "I told him I'm done," I say to her, angrily wiping the tear that falls. I hate that I'm crying, that I let myself get hurt by him again, "he told me he can't like me."

    "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Isla pulls me into a hug, "I will go downstairs and yell at him if you want. Just say the word."

    I laugh because it'd be amusing watching Isla yell at Conrad. Once she started, she didn't stop. He'd barely be able to get a word in. I'd rather pretend that it doesn't hurt, though. I will not give Conrad Fisher the satisfaction of hurting me again. "It's okay," I laugh, hugging her tighter, "I wish you could stay for the rest of the summer. Everything's been so much better with you here."

    "We've still got a week," She reminds me, pulling away from our hug, "and I was thinking... if you don't find a date to the Deb, why don't I do it? That one girl bringing her girlfriend, why can't you bring your best friend? It could be fun."

    "You'd wear a suit and be my date for a debutante ball?" I ask her, chuckling at the thought.

     "If you can't find a date, sure," She shrugs, nonchalant, "but I don't think you'll have problems finding a date. You're going to show Conrad just how easy he is to replace."

    She was so confident in her words that it'd be easy to find a boy to take me to the Debutante ball. The thing is, no boy compares to Conrad Fisher. Even when he's being an idiot and a jerk and breaking my heart, I still love him... and that's what hurts the most.

☀️

    "What are you watching?" Jeremiah swung over the couch, plopping done beside Isla. The two of us were in the living room, changed into sweats, with blankets pulled up to our chins as we watched the screens.

    "Mamma Mia," Isla answered him. I watch her eyes flicker down to her legs, Jeremiah has always had a bit of a problem remembering personal space, and right now, his leg is pressed against Isla's, the blanket separating them. I go to tell him off, but then I see the faint shade of pink spreading across Isla's freckled cheeks, "have you seen it?"

    "Only like a million times," Jeremiah scoffs, offended she'd think otherwise, "Florence is obsessed with this movie. When we were younger, she made me learn the choreography for Dancing Queen."

     "If I remember correctly, you begged for me to teach you," I remind Jeremiah, reaching my arm past Isla to mess with Jeremiah's hair. "You love this movie just as much as I do."

    "A guy with taste," Isla nods his head approvingly at Jeremiah, who smiles. How am I just seeing how cute they'd be? "You wanna watch the rest with us?"

      "Uh, of course, I do," Jeremiah nods as if it's obvious. I roll my eyes at him, though I'm grateful for him nonetheless. With everything going on lately, I've barely hung out with him, and there's no one in the world that cheers me up more than Jeremiah and Isla, "we need popcorn, though. No movie night is complete without popcorn."

    "Ooo," I nod my head in agreement, my mouth watering at the thought, "the caramel popcorn from that place in town?" Jeremiah goes to stand, leaving his spot beside Isla, "stay," I tell him. He and Isla look so cozy, and now that I think about it, they'd be kind of perfect for one another. My love life sucks right now. It'd be nice to see my best friend happy, "I'll go."

    "Alone?" Isla asks, reaching to pause the movie, "cause we don't mind."

     "Why don't you guys make hot cocoa or something," I suggest, "I'll be back in a few minutes."

    "Hot cocoa does sound really good right now," Jeremiah nods in agreement, nudging Isla with his arm, "and I just so happen to make the best one out there."

    Isla hums, disagreeing, "I'm pretty sure I do, actually."

     "Oh, it's on, Singer," Jeremiah shoots off the couch. He holds his hand out to Isla, pulling her up. "We both make hot cocoa, and Flo will judge when she gets back. Then we will declare who the hot cocoa champion is."

    "It's obviously me," She smirks, teasingly flipping her head hair over her shoulder, "so deal."

    "You two are such kids," I shake my head, amused, "I'll see you when I get back."

    Both of them holler their goodbyes in unison before making their way to the kitchen, knocking their shoulders together competitively. Despite the ache in my heart, I felt happy for them because if anyone deserves happiness in the world, it's those two. Neither of our moms is back, so I don't yell goodbye as I'm leaving, grabbing the keys for the car on my way out.

    Despite going to the popcorn place for just Jeremiah and my favourite caramel popcorn, I end up buying more. I grab movie theatre butter for Steven, kettle corn for Isla and even the birthday cake one for Belly, which is drizzled in pastel pink icing and covered in sprinkles.

    I plug my phone into the aux for the short drive home, blaring Taylor Swift music. Belly and I used to do this whenever we had a bad day. There isn't much that can't be solved by a car ride and singing along to Taylor Swift. It's dark out now, the moon lighting the roads for me. With my window down, I can smell the salt water from the beach, calming me down.

    "Hey, Siri," I talk to my phone, wanting to call home and tell Jere to grab bowls down for the popcorn, "call-"

   My words are cut short as a bright light approaches me, a truck approaching, speeding towards the side of my car. I try to swerve, but there's no time. All I hear before I pass out is the sound of my tires squealing, my passenger window shattering into a million pieces.

That ending though...