Chapter 1: Where it starts
The loft smells of dust, old paper, and Lily’s terrible spiced rum. A single string of fairy lights droops from the exposed beam above me, flickering like a dying heartbeat. I lean against a wall lined with faded Polaroids—Lily and me at fourteen with braces, at eighteen with terrible haircuts—and try to look like I’m having fun.
“Surprise,” I say to myself, the word barely a whisper under the thrum of some indie vinyl Lily’s dug up. The surprise is that I’m leaving in forty-eight hours. The surprise party is just Lily’s way of prolonging the goodbye.
“There she is! The woman of the hour!” Lily appears, slinging an arm around my shoulders, smelling of vanilla and optimism. “Stop looking at your mental checklist. You’re supposed to be celebrating.”
“I am,” I lie, forcing a smile. My eyes scan the room. Caleb is by the makeshift bar—a board over two milk crates—talking to one of Lily’s art school friends. He’s wearing a stiff blue oxford, sleeves perfectly rolled. He fits here like a spreadsheet in a poetry book.
Then I see him.
Liam Winchester is a splinter in the corner of my vision. Tall, too broad for this crowded space, his black hair messy like he just rolled out of bed. He’s surrounded by his clones, guys with the same careless posture and easy laughs. His eyes lock onto mine across the room and a slow, familiar smirk spreads across his face. Here we go.
He detaches himself from his pack and saunters over, a plastic cup of something dark in his hand. “Jules. Heard you’re finally escaping.”
“It’s called a job, Liam. A career. You might want to look into the concept.”
He leans against the wall next to me, his shoulder inches from mine. The heat off him is immediate, distracting. “Sounds dreadful. All that responsibility. I prefer my current business model.”
“Which is?”
“Living off the profound generosity of my parents.” He takes a sip, his eyes never leaving me. “It’s a growth industry.”
I shake my head, looking away towards the safety of Caleb. “Aimless.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He nudges my arm with his elbow. “Come on, Hart. Admit it. You’re jealous of my freedom. While you’re in your ergonomic chair drafting memos, I’ll be figuring out the optimal angle for afternoon naps.”
One of his friends, a guy with a jawline that does all his thinking for him, wanders over. “Winch, you bothering the grown-ups again?”
“Just giving Jules here her last dose of reality before she enters the corporate cocoon.” Liam’s voice is a lazy drawl, but his gaze is sharp, picking me apart. “She needs to remember what fun feels like.”
“Fun,” I repeat, the word flat. “Right. Because understanding a 401k is just so tragic.”
Liam laughs, a low sound that vibrates in the tiny space between us. “See? Uptight. You’re even planning your retirement at your going-[AS TEXT HAS BEEN REMOVED], you guys got this one?” Caleb’s voice is smooth, pleasant, and entirely devoid of any genuine concern. He places a possessive hand on the small of my back.
Liam’s eyes drop to Caleb’s hand, then flick back up to my face. The smirk is gone, replaced by something colder. “We’re good,” he says, his voice losing its playful edge. “Just reminiscing.”
“Ah.” Caleb’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, don’t let us keep you from your friends. I was just stealing Jules for a dance.”
I let Caleb lead me away, feeling Liam’s stare like a physical weight between my shoulder blades. The music switches to something with a slower beat. Caleb pulls me close, his movements precise.
“You okay?” he asks, his chin resting on my head. “He’s so juvenile. It’s embarrassing.”
“He’s just a kid,” I mutter into his shirt, but the words taste wrong. Kid. He didn’t feel like a kid pinned under that stare. A restless energy churns in my stomach.
“A spoiled one.” Caleb sighs, a sound of profound patience. “It’ll be good for you to get away from all this… lack of ambition. The city will suit you.”
I nod, my cheek rubbing against the crisp cotton of his shirt. My eyes drift over his shoulder. Liam is back with his friends, but he’s not laughing anymore. He’s watching us, his cup dangling from his fingers. Even from across the room, the intensity of his focus is a live wire. One of his friends says something, claps him on the shoulder. Liam just shakes his head, doesn’t even look at him.
The song ends. Lily bounds over, her face flushed. “Okay, speech time! Jules, get over here.”
I am nudged toward the center of the room, where Lily has mounted a stool. Caleb’s hand slides from my back. The crowd of twenty or so people turns expectantly. My face feels hot.
“My best friend,” Lily begins, her voice wobbly with emotion. “Is a relentless, type-A, checklist maniac…”
Polite laughter. I force another smile.
“...and I am going to miss her so much it physically hurts.”
My throat tightens. I look at my shoes.
“But she’s going to kick ass, because that’s what she does. To Jules!”
A cheer goes up. Glasses are raised. Through the forest of arms, I see Liam. He’s not holding his cup up. He’s just looking at me, his expression unreadable. Then he turns and walks away, disappearing down the stairs that lead to the closed record shop below.
The party swirls on. Caleb gets drawn into a conversation about mutual funds. Lily is crying and hugging someone. I feel untethered, the noise fading to a buzz. I slip toward the staircase.
The downstairs is dark, quiet, and cool. The only light comes from the neon ‘OPEN’ sign in the shop window, casting a pink and blue glow over the rows of vinyl. I can still hear the muffled thump of music from above.
“Couldn’t take the celebration either?”
I jump. He’s sitting on the floor, his back against a rack of classic rock, long legs stretched out in front of him.
“Liam. What are you doing down here?”
“Thinking,” he says. He looks younger in the half-light, but the rawness in his voice is entirely adult.
“Dangerous pastime.”
He ignores the jab. “You’re really going.”
“Yes.”
“With him.”
It’s not a question. “Caleb is part of my life, yes.”
He barks out a short, humorless laugh. “He’s a part of your spreadsheet. Fits the timeline. Appropriate demographic. Good breeding.” The bitterness in his tone is a new flavor. This isn’t teasing anymore.
“You don’t know anything about him. Or me.”
“I know he looks at you like you’re another trophy for his shelf. I know you’re smarter than that.” He pushes himself up in one fluid motion, standing too close in the narrow aisle. The scent of him—laundry detergent and something uniquely, annoyingly Liam—fills the space between us. “I know you let him.”
Anger flares, hot and immediate. “You have no right—”
“I have every right,” he cuts in, his voice dropping, rough at the edges. “You just can’t stand that it’s coming from me. The slacker. The kid. The one who doesn’t have his future mapped out on stupid notecards.”
My heart is hammering against my ribs. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you’re leaving in two days,” he says, as if it’s an answer. His eyes search my face in the neon gloom. “And I’m never going to say it.”
The air leaves the room. The word it hangs there, enormous and terrifying.
Footsteps clatter on the stairs. “Jules? You down here?” Lily’s voice echoes.
Liam’s expression shutters closed. The arrogant mask snaps back into place so fast I doubt I ever saw it drop. He takes a step back, putting cool, safe distance between us.
“We’re down here, Lil,” he calls, his tone light again. “Just hiding from your punch.”
Lily appears, a silhouette at the bottom of the stairs. “There you are. Caleb’s looking for you. Saying goodbye, he’s got an early meeting.” She looks between us, her head tilted. “Everything okay?”
“Perfect,” Liam says, flashing her a grin. “Just giving Jules some final, unsolicited life advice.”
I can’t speak. My skin is still buzzing from the charged silence, from the words he didn’t say.
“Well, advise upstairs. Party’s dying.” Lily turns and trundles back up.
I move to follow, my legs unsteady. As I pass Liam, his hand shoots out, not to grab me, but to stop me. His fingers brush my wrist, the touch brief but electric.
“Hart,” he says, his voice low.
I stop, don’t look at him.
“Don’t go.”
It’s not a plea. It’s a challenge. A grenade rolled softly at my feet.
Then he lets go, and walks past me, taking the stairs two at a time, leaving me alone in the neon-smeared dark. The ghost of his touch on my skin, the echo of his voice in the quiet shop.
Don’t go.
Upstairs, the music has stopped. People are hugging, grabbing coats. Caleb finds me, pecks my cheek. “Ready? Big day tomorrow for packing.”
I nod robotically. Lily crushes me in a tearful hug. I hug her back, my eyes scanning the room over her shoulder.
Liam is already gone.