EcoTech. The company Alex has been raging against in every environmental ethics debate. The corporate giant she calls “everything wrong with modern industry.” And here I am, being offered a golden ticket to join their ranks.
Dad would be thrilled. A stable job, good money, benefits – everything he’s been worried about since he got sick. Megs got her scholarship, but what about after? This might mean she could focus on soccer without worrying about college costs. Mom could finally quit taking extra shifts.
But Alex’s voice echoes in my head:“They’re destroying everything we’re fighting to protect.”
I stare at the spot where Dr. Reeves disappeared.
“Fuck,” I mutter, finally heading toward the library.
ALEX
NOW – SOPHOMORE YEAR – MARCH
It’s late, and somehow, Freddie’s sprawled across my bed like he belongs there, reading something on his laptop intently. His stupidly long limbs are everywhere, and the lamp light is doing unfair things to his jawline. A week ago, we were lost in that mine, and now he’s just... here, like nothing’s changed. Except everything has.
My heart’s still doing that stupid flutter thing it started doing in the dark when he held my hand and talked me through my panic attack. It hasn’t stopped doing it since.
Also, his workout shorts should be illegal. They’re too thin, and I’m trying really hard not to notice things I definitely shouldn’t be noticing about my project partner. My ex-friend. The guy who took my virginity. My... whatever the hell Freddie is.
His phone keeps blasting some awful country song – his guilty pleasure music that he pretends not to love. I can’t take another twangy guitar riff about trucks and beer.
“Can I change this?” I ask, reaching for his phone where it sits between us on the bed. “If I have to hear one more song about a man losing his dog and his wife and his truck, I might scream.”
Freddie clutches his chest in mock offense. “First of all, this is art. Second of all, how dare you?”
I grab for his phone, but it’s locked. “What’s your password?”
“092222,” he says without hesitation.
My fingers freeze over the keypad as the numbers hit me. September 22, 2022. The night of Troy’s party. The night we met.
Oh.
Heat floods my cheeks as I realize he’s been carrying that date with him this whole time, typing it into his phone every day, even when we weren’t speaking. Even when everything fell apart.
I punch in the numbers, trying to keep my hands steady, trying to act like my heart isn’t doing backflips in my chest. Like this small revelation hasn’t completely wrecked me.
“You okay?” Freddie asks, and I realize I’ve been staring at his now-unlocked phone without moving.
“Yeah,” I manage, my voice embarrassingly breathy. “Just... trying to decide what to play.”
“Why did you kiss me last year?” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them, sounding more like an accusation than a question.
Freddie looks up from his laptop, doing that thing with his eyebrow that makes me want to commit crimes. He licks his lips –stop watching his lips, Alex– and says, “I kissed you because I wanted to.”
I groan, flopping down beside him. The mattress dips, and suddenly he’s too close, radiating heat like a human furnace.“Don’t bullshit me, Freddie. I’m so tired of... this.”Of wanting you. Of pretending I don’t. Of lying to myself.
“So am I!” His voice rises, matching my frustration.
“Then let’s stop.” I turn to face him – mistake number one million when it comes to Freddie Donovan. His hazel eyes are dark, intense, seeing too much. “No more bullshit.”
He gives me a pointed look. “I’m not the one picking fights here.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he’s not wrong. I’m the one bringing up the past, keeping my walls up. Before I can formulate a response, he sighs.
“But you’re right, that wasn’t the whole truth.” He sits up, running a hand through his hair. “The truth is, I kissed you that day to shut you up.Andbecause I wanted to.”
I feel like I’ve been slapped. “What?—!”
