What We Left Behind. Robin Talley

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СКАЧАТЬ was just—

      There was something about the way she was looking at me.

      I love to talk. I talk constantly. When you’re talking, people always know you’re there.

      But I didn’t have any words just then.

      Not with her looking at me like that. Like she could see all the way inside me.

      GRETCHEN

      I leaned in to her ear again, even though we were close enough now that I didn’t need to. I swallowed my nervousness and asked, “Is that your girlfriend in the blue dress?”

      Toni didn’t pull back. She didn’t answer, either. For an anxious second I thought she hadn’t heard me.

      Finally she shook her head. “Just a friend.”

      TONI

      “Oh,” Gretchen said.

      She was blushing.

      God, she was adorable.

      I nodded toward the blond guy who was now leading Renee around the room in a dramatic-looking tango. Everyone was watching them. Which meant they weren’t looking at Gretchen and me anymore. “What about you? What’s up with that guy?”

      “Oh, right.” Gretchen glanced over, then turned back to me with a cute little quirk in her eyebrow. “I don’t know. My dad’s friend knows him or something? He’s all right. Not for me, though.”

      She scrunched up her face adorably. God, everything this girl did was adorable.

      “Not for you ’cause...why?” I asked.

      She blushed again.

      I seriously could not deal with how this felt.

      Oh, my lord.

      I was really, truly, genuinely about to melt into a puddle of utter uselessness.

      Oh, my lord.

      GRETCHEN

      I was still nervous.

      So nervous I didn’t know how I was even going to stay standing, let alone move.

      So nervous I could hear my heart beating in my ears. Louder than the music. Louder than the people talking and clapping.

      So nervous it was like I was floating outside my body, watching this whole thing play out from the ceiling of the hotel ballroom, somewhere near that carefully crafted balloon arch.

      I was so nervous I could barely breathe.

      But I kissed her anyway.

      TONI

      I melted.

1

      AUGUST

      SUMMER BEFORE FRESHMAN YEAR OF COLLEGE 1 YEAR, 10 MONTHS TOGETHER

      TONI

      I still melt every time I kiss Gretchen, but it’s different now.

      That first night, back at a high school dance, we barely even knew each other’s name. Now we’re about to leave for college, and we know each other inside and out.

      Before I met Gretchen, I wondered if I’d ever even have a real girlfriend. It seemed impossible, once. I’d gone out with other girls, sure, but nothing had ever lasted. I didn’t think I’d actually find anyone willing to put up with me for more than a month or two.

      But I still daydreamed. I’d sit there in health class, my eyes soft-focused on the whiteboard while I pictured some pretty girl and me skipping hand in hand through daisy-strewn meadows, gazing into each other’s eyes, laughing at our little inside jokes and never, ever getting tired of each other. I used to think no real relationship could be as exciting as my health-class fantasy.

      What blew me away was that the reality turned out to be so much more. I never imagined that being one half of a whole could make you feel more whole all by yourself. I never dreamed I’d want to tell someone all my secrets and know their secrets, too.

      But now everything’s changing. I don’t know what our lives are going to be like after tomorrow, but at least I know that no matter what happens next, we’ll always have each other.

      Knowing I can count on that is the only thing holding me in one piece while I count down our last few hours together. I’m trying to act like it’s not a big deal, but as the minutes tick by it’s getting harder and harder to pretend.

      “Pass me the shampoo?” Gretchen asks. I find the Target bag with four bottles of Sun-Kissed Shiny Grapefruit and hand it over.

      “You know, they do have stores in Boston,” I say as Gretchen loads the bag into a suitcase. I’m sitting in Gretchen’s desk chair, one of the only surfaces in the room that’s not covered in open boxes, suitcases and laundry baskets. “You don’t have to turn your dorm room into your own personal CVS.”

      “You are so funny, T.” Gretchen kisses me on the cheek and grabs a stack of socks from the dresser. “You must teach me your ways. How much shampoo are you going to pack?”

      “I already packed, but I’m not bringing any shampoo. I’ll get some when I’m up there. How are you going to take all these suitcases on the plane anyway? Are your parents going to pretend your bags are theirs or something?”

      Gretchen laughs. “Do you think I should bring all my shoes or just some of them? I can probably leave my cowboy boots here, right? They’ll take up so much space.”

      I eye Gretchen’s closet door, still covered in photos from two years’ worth of debate tournaments. “You only own, like, two pairs of shoes. I think you should bring them all unless you want to go around barefoot.”

      Gretchen sighs fake-dramatically. “I own more than two pairs of shoes.”

      “Well, yeah, I guess there’s three if you count your sneakers and your Birkenstocks.”

      Gretchen laughs again, even though it’s the oldest joke there is. For the last two years of high school Gretchen wore Birks every day unless it was raining or snowing. On those days, the sneakers came out. Gretchen always looked totally out of place in hallways filled with girls in designer ballet flats or chic dress code–friendly one-inch heels.

      Not that any of it ever stopped Gretchen from becoming absurdly popular. That part was pretty much guaranteed from the first fateful Homecoming dance on. When you make that much of a stir before it’s even your first day of school, you’re going to amass a sizeable crew of devotees.

      Which I guess meant I wound up being kind of popular, too. Walking down the hall holding hands with Gretchen every day was enough to make anyone feel like a celebrity. Winning that fight with the school administration junior year didn’t hurt, either. The blue plaid pants I finally got to wear looked ridiculous, like old-man golf pants, but it was such a relief to be out of those stupid СКАЧАТЬ