Cross My Heart

I marvel at how even the wrong choices can keep us on the right path. How the worst mistake can wind up being the best thing that ever happened to us.

I think you fall in love with someone when you least expect to. When it’s the last thing you want. That’s what’s so great about it.

Maybe. But you know, when you love someone you love them. And every day you sit back pretending that you don't is one less day you have with him.

He turns another page, and I read: I'M NOT ETHAN. . . . . .AND I'M NOT GOING TO GIVE UP. . . . . .UNTIL I CAN PROVE TO YOU. . . . . .THAT YOU ARE THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS. He flips to the next page. SO KEEP SENDING ME AWAY. . . . . .BUT I'LL JUST KEEP COMING BACK TO YOU. AGAIN. . . He flips to the next page. . . .AND AGAIN. . . And the next: . . .AND AGAIN. Goose bumps rise to the surface of my skin. I shiver, hugging myself tightly. AND IF YOU CAN EVER FIND IT IN YOUR ❤ TO FORGIVE ME. . . . . .I WILL DO EVERYTHING IT TAKES TO MAKE IT UP TO YOU. . . He closes the notebook and tosses it beside him. It lands on the roof with a dull thwack. Then, lifting his index finger, he draws an X across his chest. Cross my heart.

That's stupid. Everyone lies." "Yeah, well, it's a waste of time. The more lies you tell the more stories you have to remember. Believe me: it's easier to just be honest.

If you really love someone you shouldn’t have to think about anything. You should want to say it. It’s not difficult.

Glitter is like….little flecks of brilliance caught in a tube.

If I meet you at your third floor window tonight, will you let me in?” he whispers softly against my ear, hardly a murmur.

I'm all for getting trashed," I confess. "I'm sure you are, except I'll clue you in on a little something: when it's over, your problems still exist.

True love can blossom in unexpected places. This is Jaden pretending not to notice.

It was so addictive...like a train wreck." "A train wreck," he repeats, disbelieving. "You know---you don't really want to see blood and destruction and death because you know it'll haunt you forever, but at the same time you can't look away?

Well, I figure if you're gonna screw things up by skipping school, the day better be worth it.

You know,” he says, peeking inside the bag. “It’s okay. Because ham and cheese is my absolute favorite…and an apple? It’s like, the lunch of champions.” I stifle another yawn. “It doesn’t get much better than that, right?” “Only if you were eating with me,” he says.

Never underestimate the power of glitter.

And yet here I am—torn: wanting to pull him closer, saving him, and at the same time wishing I could hop on the back of his motorcycle and, for once, allow someone to save me.

No. I mean, med school is THE greatest challenge, right? I want to see if I can make it." "This isn't about a challenge.=," he says, a flash of anger in this eyes." "This is about finding what you love to do: doing something that makes you happy.

God, Jaden! You are going to screw yourself into a corner if you don't talk to him. This is like, a crossroads. You're always going to look back and wonder if things could've been different, and this love story is going to turn into a tragedy. Your tragedy. You two deserve a chance to be happy together, and the only thing keeping you apart right now is YOU.

What’s wrong with that is that it’s not how the real world works. That’s why, sometimes, it’s good to be flexible. When you don’t get what you want, you make other plans.

Sometimes I get lucky and we have real meal…like Hot Pockets.

Maybe I can stalk you again sometime.” “Absolutely.

My insides twist in a flurry of excitement, and I stifle the laugh welling inside. Parker Whalen knows I’m alive.

And so I make my way across the room steadily, carefully. Hands shaking, I pull the string, lifting my blinds. They rise slowly, drawing more moonlight into the room with every inch And there he is, crouched low on the roof. Same leather jacket. The hair is his, the cheekbones, the perfect nose . . . the eyes: dark and mysterious . . . full of secrets. . . . My heart flutters, body light. I reach out to touch him, thinking he might disappear, my fingers disrupted by the windowpane. On the other side, Parker lifts his hand and mouths: “Hi.” I mouth “Hi” back. He holds up a single finger, signalling me to hold on. He picks up a spiral-bound notebook and flips open the cover, turning the first page to me. I recognize his neat, block print instantly: bold, black Sharpie. I know this is unexpected . . . , I read. He flips the page. . . . and strange . . . I lift an eyebrow. . . . but please hear read me out. He flips to the next page. I know I told you I never lied . . . . . . but that was (obviously) the biggest lie of all. The truth is: I’m a liar. I lied. I lied to myself . . . . . . and to you. Parker watches as I read. Our eyes meet, and he flips the page. But only because I had to. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you, Jaden . . . . . . but it happened anyway. I clear my throat, and swallow hard, but it’s squeezed shut again, tight. And it gets worse. Not only am I a liar . . . I’m selfish. Selfish enough to want it all. And I know if I don’t have you . . . I hold my breath, waiting. . . . I don’t have anything. He turns another page, and I read: I’m not Parker . . . . . . and I’m not going to give up . . . . . . until I can prove to you . . . . . . that you are the only thing that matters. He flips to the next page. So keep sending me away . . . . . . but I’ll just keep coming back to you. Again . . . He flips to the next page. . . . and again . . . And the next: . . . and again. Goose bumps rise to the surface of my skin. I shiver, hugging myself tightly. And if you can ever find it in your (heart) to forgive me . . . There’s a big, black “heart” symbol where the word should be. I will do everything it takes to make it up to you. He closes the notebook and tosses it beside him. It lands on the roof with a dull thwack. Then, lifting his index finger, he draws an X across his chest. Cross my heart. I stifle the happy laugh welling inside, hiding the smile as I reach for the metal latch to unlock my window. I slowly, carefully, raise the sash. A burst of fresh honeysuckles saturates the balmy, midnight air, sickeningly sweet, filling the room. I close my eyes, breathing it in, as a thousand sleepless nights melt, slipping away. I gather the lavender satin of my dress in my hand, climb through the open window, and stand tall on the roof, feeling the height, the warmth of the shingles beneath my bare feet, facing Parker. He touches the length of the scar on my forehead with his cool finger, tucks my hair behind my ear, traces the edge of my face with the back of his hand. My eyes close. “You know you’re beautiful? Even when you cry?” He smiles, holding my face in his hands, smearing the tears away with his thumbs. I breathe in, lungs shuddering. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, black eyes sincere. I swallow. “I know why you had to.” “Doesn’t make it right.” “Doesn’t matter anymore,” I say, shaking my head. The moon hangs suspended in the sky, stars twinkling overhead, as he leans down and kisses me softly, lips meeting mine, familiar—lips I imagined, dreamed about, memorized a mil ion hours ago. Then he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him, quelling every doubt and fear and uncertainty in this one, perfect moment.

He taught me to cry, to love, to forgive. He taught me that sometimes truths are complicated, woven deeper than we could ever imagine. He taught me to let go. To hold on. And that what's real... is all that will ever matter.

I turn and gaze at the bright blue sky, squinting. It’s like surfacing for air after giving up hope, after resigning to drown, suffocating

You just, barged in and flipped my entire world upside down,” he says, voice heated. “I didn’t know what to do.

Once I started I couldn’t put it down. It was so addictive . . . like a train wreck.

The more lies you tell the more stories you have to remember.

I’m selfish. Selfish enough to want it all. And I know if I don’t have you . . . . . . I don’t have anything.