Summer Apart by Amy Sparling Read Free Book Online Page B

my hair down and falling in front of my shoulders. I’m sitting at an outdoor table on the patio of Magic Mark’s Pizza. I’m wearing the friendship bracelet that Park had bought me from the craft fair we walked through on the way to get pizza. That bracelet had ripped off not two weeks later, when it caught on a bike chain while I was working.
    I never knew he took this picture of me, and that’s probably because I wasn’t looking at the camera. I’m looking to the right, with one hand on my chin and I’m smiling as if I am deeply involved in whatever conversation was happening at the time. It’s a good photo, I have to admit.
    I bite my lip and hand the phone back. “When did you take that picture?”
    “We were with Jace and Bayleigh and Jace was telling you that story about how he ran out of gas on top of the finish line jump.”
    “Ah, I remember that day,” I say, looking off into the parking lot as I recall Jace’s crazy story. “That was a good day.” It was the day Park held my hand in front of my friends and the entire world. It was also, as I can tell from his picture, an excellent hair day for me. My hair hasn’t looked that silky smooth in ages, probably because I quit caring about it once I had to start studying for finals.
    “It was a good day,” he says. “It was right about that day that I realized I was in love with you.”
    In the very next moment, time stands still. My heart quits beating and my body freezes. The only thing that works is my memory and that works in overdrive. I remember the time I first met Park, when we cuddled on Bayleigh’s couch and I knew I was falling hard for him. I remember when he pushed me away—when he said I shouldn’t trust guys like him. I remember Jace telling me the exact same thing.
    I remember this last year while I was in college. Park’s visits—Park’s lips on mine—Park being my favorite part of every day.
    And then I remember the photo of him and that other girl. His cruel words when he said that he’s the kind of person who dates around.
    Why should I trust a person like that?
    Anger fills me from my toes to my head. My car keys wait in my pocket, ready to take me away from what will only be heartbreak if I stay any longer.
    “I’m leaving,” I say, before I can talk myself out of it.
    “What? You can’t go.” Park steps toward me but I back away and grab my keys. “Becca, please don’t go. Let’s talk.”
    “There’s nothing to talk about,” I say, clenching my jaw to avoid crying. “You can’t tell me that you date around back at home and then, in the same day, say you’re in love with me. You just can’t do it, Park.”
    “Becca, it’s not like that.” He reaches for me but I jerk away and walk toward the stairs.
    “Oh it is like that,” I snap. “It became like that the moment you dated another girl. You wouldn’t date other people if you truly felt that way about me.”
    He draws in a deep breath and his eyes go wide and I can tell he’s trying not to yell or freak out or something. “It’s not like that, Becca. Please let me explain.”
    “There’s nothing to explain. Look, I liked you a lot. You liked me. But this thing we have now,” I say, gesturing to the air between us, “This is toxic. I can’t let you hurt me anymore. Tell Bayleigh I’m sorry but I have to leave.”
    “Becca, please.” His words are a pleading and I have to look down at the stairs to avoid meeting his gaze. I know if I look up at him, see his gorgeous eyes and the way he stares at me as if I’m the only important thing in the world—I’ll crack. I’ll come running back up the stairs and collapse into his arms.
    And that would be great for just tonight. But then he would go back home and it would all end in heartbreak.
    I stop four steps down and turn back, but I don’t look at him, not as his face. I stare at the motocross logo printed on his jacket and say, “I should have listened to Jace a year ago when he told me to