Starry Eyed

Chapter, 2: The Summer of Almosts

The summer we turned sixteen, Jamie started wearing cherry-flavored lip gloss. I noticed it first when she’d smudge it onto her water bottle and playfully ask, “Want a sip?” with a teasing smile. I noticed it because she leaned in closely when we shared earbuds, her breath sweet and warm, and I realized I was attuned to everything about her—and it felt both exhilarating and painful.

One afternoon, she collapsed onto my bed, her curls spilling over my dinosaur-print sheets like ink, a carefree moment in our otherwise complicated world. “Let’s practice kissing,” she said, holding up her phone with a t****k trend blaring: "How to Tell if You’re a Good Kisser!”

I nearly choked on my soda. "What? "

“It’s research,” she insisted, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “For when Tyler asks me out.”

My stomach twisted at the thought. Tyler Bishop, the captain of the swim team with his chlorine-bleached hair and that loud, infectious laugh, had been showing interest in Jamie for weeks, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of worry in my chest.

“You like Tyler?” I asked, striving for a casual tone, but my heart felt heavy.

“Duh. He’s hot.” She tossed me a tube of lip gloss, the playful gesture both innocent and loaded. “C’mon, just a peck. For science.”

Science. Our old safe word. And yet, at that moment, it felt like nothing about our friendship was safe anymore.

“Fine,” I said quietly, feeling a lump in my throat. “Just one second.”

She counted down excitedly, her voice bubbling with anticipation. “Three… two…”

At one, I shut my eyes tightly, nerves coursing through me. Her lips brushed mine—soft, sticky, over too soon.

“Did I do it right?” she asked, her excitement palpable.

“I don’t know,” I replied, forcing a smile even as my heart raced.

She flopped back onto my bed, frustration evident on her face. “Ugh, I’ll never get it.”

'You did', I wanted to say, but instead, the unspoken truth weighed heavily in the air between us. You’ve changed everything for me.

---

Two days later, Jamie announced she was “dating” Tyler.

“It’s not serious,” she reassured me, painting her toenails a vibrant neon pink on my porch swing, the scent of acetone mixing with summer. “Just practice for real relationships.”

“Practice,” I repeated, feeling the word lose its meaning as the bitterness settled in my throat.

She shrugged, flicking away a mosquito. “Yeah. Like how we practiced kissing.”

The silence stretched as I watched the sun dip below the pines, casting long shadows. The sound of a lawnmower sputtered in the distance, an ordinary noise masking my internal turmoil.

---

Friday came, and Tyler convinced her to join him at a bonfire at Willow Lake. Jamie practically pulled me along, her hand warm against mine as we navigated through the woods. “Stick with me,” she said, and I squeezed her hand back, grateful but anxious. But once we arrived, Tyler whisked her into the crowd with a flick of his lighter and a promise of “the best s’mores ever.”

I stayed near the snack table, cradling a warm soda, trying to find comfort in the soft glow of string lights reflecting on the lake. Couples swayed to a playlist filled with old favorites, and there was Jamie, her laugh ringing clear above the noise, her joy piercing through my heart. Tyler spun her around, her skirt swirling like a flower in bloom, and I felt a stir of something painful as I watched him pull her closer.

It’s just practice, I reminded myself, even though doubt crept into my mind.

But then he kissed her—deep and deliberate—and she didn’t pull away.

Panic surged through me, and I fled into the shadows of the woods, branches snagging at my arms as if they were trying to hold me back from the reality I couldn’t bear to face.

---

The old suspension bridge swayed gently in the wind, its ropes creaking like a familiar lullaby. Moonlight pooled on the weathered planks, a comforting reminder of all the moments Jamie and I had shared here before. But tonight felt different; the gorge below seemed to whisper my fears, the rushing river sounding like those unspoken emotions clawing for a way out.

I heard footsteps behind me, uneven and rushed.

“Em?”

I didn’t turn. “Go back to the party,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Jamie slumped beside me, her cherry lip gloss a stark contrast against the pine-scented air. “You left.”

“You didn’t.”

She picked at her red yarn bracelet, a gesture of nervousness I recognized well. “Tyler’s… different.”

“Yeah. He’s a guy.”

“No, I mean—” She kicked a pebble into the darkness, frustration spilling out. “He really likes me.”

The implication hung in the air—Unlike you—and it stung.

“Great,” I muttered, forcing down the bitterness that threatened to rise.

“Is it?” she pressed, her voice probing for deeper truth.

As thunder rumbled ominously, the first raindrop splashed against my skin, cool and awakening.

“Jamie—”

“Why did you run?” Her voice cracked, revealing her vulnerability. “At the party.”

Lightning illuminated the sky, and in that breathtaking moment, I saw the truth exposed—her smudged lip gloss, Tyler’s possessive grasp, the confusion in her eyes as they flickered toward me afterward.

“I don’t know,” I replied, feeling even smaller under her scrutiny.

“Liar.” She stood, rain soaking her hair into dark curls, a powerful image against the stormy backdrop. “You’re jealous.”

I let out a hollow laugh. “Of what? You’re just *practicing*.”

She flinched; I could see the hurt flash in her eyes. The storm unleashed its fury, soaking us both.

“You’re right,” she snapped. “It’s not real. None of this is real!”

“Then why do it?!” I yelled, feeling defensive yet desperate, seeking some semblance of understanding.

“Because you won’t!” Her voice rang out, full of raw longing. “You won’t say it, you won’t feel it—”

“Feel what ?!” I was lost in confusion, desperate for clarity.

And then, without another word, she kissed me.

Not a peck. Not practice.

This was a wildfire—intense, yearning, a surge of emotion that took my breath away. Her hands tangled in my hair, my back pressed against the cold railing of the bridge, and it felt like everything else faded away. The storm roared below us, or maybe it was just the sound of my heart racing, shouting finally, finally, finally.

Then she pulled away, breathless, her eyes wide in shock. “That.”

Raindrops slid down her cheeks like tears, raw and potent. “That’s what.”

And before I could comprehend, she turned and ran, her footsteps fading into the storm’s unyielding roar.

---

I remained on the bridge, each passing moment stretching into eternity, trembling as rain washed the sweet taste of cherry from my lips. When I finally returned home, I found my mom at the kitchen table, her tea grown cold.

“Did you have fun last night?” she asked, her voice filled with warmth, concern reflected in her eyes.

I offered a faint smile that didn’t quite reach my heart. “It was… okay.”

Her gaze searched mine, filled with a softness that made me feel exposed. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

I nodded, wanting desperately to share the turmoil inside me—the confusing whirlwind of emotions, the fear of losing Jamie, and the longing that had unexpectedly bloomed. But the words caught in my throat, too complicated to express.

I focused on pouring cereal, burying myself in routine while my heart battled against reality, echoing the gaping silence that had widened between us.

Sitting on the edge of my bed later, surrounded by the familiarity of my dinosaur sheets, the world outside felt so distant. I couldn’t shake the memory of Jamie’s lips on mine, a moment that had unraveled everything I thought I understood about friendship and what it meant to care for someone deeply.

Time passed slowly, with uncertainty swirling around me, each tick of the clock an agonizing reminder of my confusion. I paced my room, torn between the urge to reach out to her and the fear of dismantling everything we've built.

It wasn’t until evening that I received a text from her. Just three words lit up my screen: 'Can we talk?'

I felt a rush of emotions—hope, fear, and anticipation—swiftly crashing together. Without hesitating, I replied.

Yes. Whenever.

---

As night fell, the weight of everything we hadn’t said pressed down on me. Each moment stretched, anticipation mixing with a bittersweet sense of longing.

When Jamie knocked softly at my door, I took a moment to compose myself. Opening the door, I found her standing there, a version of herself that looked both vulnerable and brave. Her eyes glimmered, and the exhilaration of the moment was palpable.

“I’ve been thinking… about us…” she started, her voice trembling slightly, as if the gravity of this conversation intertwined with something deeper.

I could feel my heart racing, knowing all too well that the feelings between us had simmered beneath the surface, waiting for the opportunity to surge forward.

“Me too,” I admitted, my voice thick with emotion. “About the kiss.”

Her eyes widened, and I could see the fear and relief dance across her face as our hearts seemed to align in that fragile moment.

“Can we… try again? Not for practice?” she whispered, the vulnerability layered in her words leaving me breathless.

With everything that rode on this moment, the world around us faded, leaving just the two of us staring at the possibility that lay before us.

“Yeah,” I murmured, the gentle taste of hope intertwining with uncertainty.

Together, we took a step into the unknown, ready to explore what lay ahead, willing to embrace the delicate complexity of what it meant to become something more, together.