The days after prom blur together in the best possible way.
We spend every moment we can together. Late nights at the creek, his studio, my bedroom with the door cracked open per Mom's rules. We talk about everything and nothing. Make plans and promises. Try not to think about the calendar counting down.
Thirty days. Twenty five. Twenty.
Graduation comes and goes in a haze of caps and gowns and forced smiles. Zeke's parents host a party at their house, and mine throws one the next day. We bounce between family obligations and stolen moments, his hand always finding mine in crowded rooms.
"You okay?" he asks during my party, when I slip outside for air.
"Yeah. Just... it's all happening so fast."
He pulls me close, and I breathe him in. Soap and cedar and something uniquely Zeke. I'm
