1| strangers with memories

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chapter one

I am not the poet's type, but I've always wanted to be.

Laying eyes on Cade Blackwood in the stark silent hall was like seeing the first dandelion in spring. He, a bright yellow flower blooming in dark soil, and I, a wandering whisper of wind looking for petals to shake. Hope for the year, hope for me, hope for us.

No...I always get the timing wrong.

I fled English class just two minutes ago and found him, head between his knees, long, pale fingers buried in his short black hair. He knocks his head back against the wall a few times, face pinched. His features are still sharp, skin still smooth. 

I should leave—walk away and not look back. But I can't. We know too much.

I cautiously emerge from the corner, the sterile scent of the hallway mingling with the distant echoes of students' laughter. The stark white walls amplify the hushed tension that hums in the air, and with a deep breath, I shuffle toward him.

His head snaps up once he hears me. His eyes, a piercing hue of green reminiscent of fresh spring leaves, hold an unsettling intensity.

"Hi," I say.

Cade's gaze runs over the loose jeans belted at my waist and the daffodil button-down tucked into them.

I thought I looked nice today. Of my long, copper hair, I took pieces from the sides of my face and pinned them back using a yellow butterfly clip I found under my bed. 

But I don't think Cade's happy with my face.

"Ember Chapman," he says, that deep tone carefully detached. "Long time no talk."

I nod to the ground, inspecting the dirt lining the white-tiled hallway. "What's, uh, what's new with you?"

"Cut the bullshit. We both know you hate me," he says.

Wouldn't it be easier if I did?

I step back against the lockers and slide down to the floor, right across from him. We haven't been this close in months.

I try to meet those green eyes, but he won't look at me. "I don't hate you. I just hate...what happened," I say.

His jaw ticks, mouth twisting in disgust. I think he'd rather I hate him.

"Why are you here, Chapman?" he says to the ground.

"I don't—" I begin, but someone crashes through the far hall doors.

Jordan Kennedy, the burly wrestler usually on the morning announcements, comes barrelling towards us with a goofy grin on his face. His waist-length jet-black hair is straight in a ponytail at the base of his neck and swings as his heavy steps stop between us.

"Cade!" he says. He stares at my face for a moment and adds, "Emily?"

"Ember," I say with a little smile. Jordan's eyes flicker between mine in quiet fascination. After eighteen years, I'm used to it. Heterochromia is not a common sight. With my blue-grey eye and dark brown one, most don't know where to look.

Greyson Scott loved my blue-grey eye best. He said it looked like a stormy sky, and he loved storms. I used to hate storms, and now I wait for them just like I wait for him.

Jordan goes on to invite Cade to a party. Cade doesn't seem thrilled by the idea, which places a frown on Jordan's face. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his red and white wrestling jacket, representing the Bridgewood colours with shining pride, waiting for Cade's change of mind.

"We'll see," Cade quickly dismisses him, waving his hand.

Jordan turns to me. "You should come too, Ember!" Splotchy patterns erupt on the amber-brown skin of his neck, just above his white and red collar.

"Not my scene," I say. Not anymore. "But thanks, Jordan."

Cade scoffs and says, "That's not what I remember."

Heat finds my freckled face.

Jordan looks between us. "Okay, well...I'm gonna head back to photography. Nice seeing you guys!" He waves and jogs through the space between us, resuming his journey. "Remember to vote for me for valedictorian!" He slams through a pair of stairwell doors like they're his next opponent in the wrestling ring, hair swinging against his broad back, then he's gone.

That leaves Cade and me sitting across from each other with nothing to fill the silence.

"Something you need to get off your chest?" I ask.

"You tell me," he retorts. "Last time we were at a party," his eyes narrow, "we made out and you tried to take my virginity."

The corners of my mouth twitch. "We shared a mutually involved kiss, Cade."

Cade's mouth twists. "Then you ran away."

The smirk falls from my lips as I remember how tears burned my cheeks as I ran from that party two months ago.

"You were being kind until then," I say, defeated in heartbreak. The girl he's in love with came into the room that night. I left because the world gave me a pretty clear sign I was making a mistake.

Cade's gaze softens, and there he is with that handsome face, those low brows so intense. 

He blows out a breath, cheeks puffing out. "I'm such an ass. No wonder you hate—"

"I don't hate you."

"Okay. Fine." He nods to himself.

I swallow the lump in my throat and say, "I can be pretty stubborn. It's not one-hundred percent your fault we haven't talked since. But it's mostly your fault. At least eighty-eight percent."

Cade's mouth twitches, barely hiding a grin, and I remember why I was so drawn to him in the first place. That smile can kill, really. In the best, most treacherous way.

"Let's call it an even ninety," he says, lips finally lifting upwards.

With a hidden smile, I nod and stand. Cade mirrors me, rising to his full height. He's taller than my own tall frame, but not by much.

"So," I venture, moving my coppery hair to one shoulder, "are you still pining after your best friend who doesn't know you're in love with her?"

At the mention of Daniella, Cade winces, dropping his head.

"I'll take that as a yes," I say, smiling despite the ache in my heart.

"What about you?" says Cade. "You still waiting for that kid who disappeared to come back in one piece?"

The words skip across my mind like stones across water, and I recoil, stepping back like I've been shoved by the shoulders.

Cade counters with, "You talk about my friend, I talk about yours. That Greyson kid who hasn't been seen in, like, years. Wasn't he your best friend or something—"

I raise a hand and Cade shuts up.

I head down the hall, trying not to fall into the mind trap that is Greyson Scott all over again.

"Chapman, wait." Cade's steps sound through the empty hallway. "I didn't—would you stop walking please?" He grabs my elbow, halting my movements. "You never went into detail. I didn't—"

"Don't talk about him," I say, taking my arm back. "You don't know if he's coming back or not."

Cade's eyes give him away—he thinks Grey's dead. I'll just add him to the long list of people who've given up.

Cade studies me with taught brows. His frame is broader than I remember, shoulders wider, chest more muscled under the white shirt stretched across it. He runs a hand through the thick black hair on his head, curled in places, not in others, and he sighs.

"Right. We've avoided each other this long, I'm sure we can go three more months," he says. "Then we'll graduate and you'll never have to see me again."

"I forgave you," I say quietly. 

Cade needed Daniella that night. He needed someone who wasn't around, and I know all too well what that feels like. 

I pick the dark blue polish off my fingernails and add, "Let's just be friends."

"What we did that night wasn't friendly," Cade says. "You kissed me, Chapman."

"I won't do it again," I murmur.

"Fine," he says. "What are you doing after school today?"

My eyes widen a bit. "Today? Um, I'm going to the hospital after school. My uncle, he works there."

"Right," he says with a nod. "Guess that's that."

"Cade—"

But he stalks down the hall, weaving a hand through his inky hair, gripping the back of his neck, and I watch him until he turns and vanishes.

A small, soft part of my heart goes with him.

~

On the way home, my breath comes out in white puffs. I head for the first bus stop that will bring me to the second, taking me to St. Hughes Memorial Hospital.

I try to forget about Cade Blackwood, but as I tread, I can't shake that haunted look in his eyes. I recognize it in myself.

High school has always felt like two sides of a coin. Best and worst. Good and bad. Lost and found. Cade Blackwood will prove to be both.

But so will Greyson Scott.






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Laurel

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