My First Love

Chapter 3. Close Calls

The days following that night by the cliffs felt like I was living in a dream, one that was equal parts thrilling and confusing. Kelly seemed to make a habit of pulling me along to the edges of the ordinary—her energy was a magnet that drew me into her world, one I never realized I’d been waiting to be part of. I started looking forward to seeing her every day, counting down the minutes until she’d swing by my locker or suggest some small adventure that felt like it was pulled straight from a movie.

But it wasn’t all picture-perfect moments. As much as Kelly and I had clicked, there were parts of her that seemed distant, like a veil I couldn’t quite lift. I’d catch her sometimes, staring off with a haunted look in her eyes, her jaw set like she was bracing for a storm. And no matter how close I felt to her, in those moments, she was unreachable.

One afternoon, after school, Kelly caught up with me as I was about to leave. She was wearing her usual mischievous smile, though there was something different in her gaze—something darker.

“Come with me,” she said, not giving me a chance to say no. “I need to show you something.”

Before I could ask what, we were off in her car, weaving through the narrow roads that twisted through the hills on the outskirts of town. I didn’t know where we were going, but the way her knuckles tightened on the steering wheel told me this wasn’t like our usual outings.

Finally, we pulled up to an abandoned drive-in theater. Its screen was cracked and covered in vines, the remnants of old movies clinging to its ghostly white surface. Kelly stepped out of the car, and I followed, shivering a little as the cool evening air set in.

“This used to be my favorite place as a kid,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “My dad used to bring me here before…before everything changed.”

I glanced at her, unsure if I should say anything, but she continued without waiting for a reply. “I wanted you to see it because…well, I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted someone else to know it was real.”

We sat down on the hood of her car, staring out at the broken-down screen, the stars blinking faintly above. For the first time, I saw Kelly not as the fiery, fearless girl who had taken my life by storm, but as someone carrying a weight she couldn’t shake. It made me feel a strange protectiveness I didn’t understand.

“Kelly,” I said gently, “you don’t have to carry this alone.”

She looked at me, eyes wide and uncertain, like she was seeing me for the first time. She opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of tires crunching on gravel cut her off. We turned around, squinting in the dim light. Another car had pulled up at the entrance to the drive-in.