Once the formalities were over and we were outside, Mrs. Hunter organized the pandemonium long enough to count down to the moment when we’d throw our graduation caps. The photographer got his camera ready as did all the parents, friends, and various family members. In unison, the graduates ripped off their caps and tossed them into the air.

As the caps returned to earth, Weston pulled me into his arms, and in the height of the celebration, he made the entire world around us freeze in the moment with one incredible kiss. It told our love story, our future, and our past. And it was all in front of nearly everyone we knew. When he finally let me go, slowly, everyone around us began to move again as if they hadn’t noticed that we just had one of those moments that only a memory could accurately capture.

Weston hooked his arm around my neck, seeming so much happier than he had earlier in the day.

“Now what?” I asked.

“There’s a graduation party at Diversion Dam, complete with a keg and bonfire, or there’s a quiet night on our overpass with Fanta Orange, falling stars, and lightning bugs. Lady’s choice.”

“Wow. That’s a tough one,” I said, a wide grin spreading across my face.

Chapter Nine

THE CICADAS WERE SINGING in a high pitch, the haunting rise and fall competing with the crickets chirping somewhere in the pastures bordering the overpass. The steady stream of headlights heading north and south beneath us and the intermittent gush of air with each passing semi added to the light breeze blowing through the grass. The twinkling stars above made the evening perfect.

Weston was lying next to me, allowing me to use his arm as a pillow. As soon as we’d stepped out of the air-conditioned cab of his Chevy and spread the denim quilt across the truck bed, I had noticed the early summer heat hadn’t left with the setting sun like it usually did this time of year. Even in a white lacy tank top and shorts, the sticky humid air settled on my skin, and beads of sweat were beginning to form along my hairline and at any points where our skin touched—which was a lot.

Weston had dipped his hand into the ice chest and popped the top of a can of Fanta, handing it to me, before we’d settled in. We took turns drinking it as we stared up at the sky, listening to the muted tones of summer.

Graduation hadn’t taken long, but the hundreds of pictures, the mingling, the polite good-byes, and hugs and smiles were just the prologue to the family parties, the presents, and the questions about my future and Weston’s future and anything else I didn’t have the answers to. The soreness in my cheeks from retaining an appreciative, polite smile for hours and the exhausting trading of energy it had taken to socialize were much better than being alone, but it had taken some getting used to.

Thoughts of what I might have done this afternoon had my life not taken such a drastic turn had been a quick reminder to endure the burning in my cheeks and to be grateful that people cared enough to ask me about the future I now had.

Still, sitting quietly with Weston in my very favorite place was the best part of the day. He mindlessly played with my hair while his eyes scanned the millions of stars lighting the sky. They were more visible outside the city limits, so much that each time I looked up from our spot on the overpass, I would suck in a sharp breath at the sight.

“I love you,” Weston said simply. His voice was even. It didn’t seem like the start of a more difficult or serious conversation. He just wanted to say it out loud.

A grin stretched across my face.

A few months before, Weston had just been a wish, out of reach, but now, I was in his arms. The desperate words he’d said to his parents earlier played over in my head like they had been all day. Between the handshakes and pictures, the reality of being loved—by Weston, by Sam and Julianne—and the responsibility that came with it had become clear. Love in any capacity required understanding, a give and take, conciliation and compromise. Love was a lot more work than being alone, but it was completely worth it.

I peeked over at Weston. He needed me. He was the boy who I’d stolen glances at, waiting for the next time our eyes would meet, as I’d hoped he knew that making his cherry dip cone extra tall somehow translated into a proclamation of love. Now, I was the one person he was desperate to keep, the one he needed in his future. Whether or not we were supposed to love each other that much didn’t matter as long as our love played into the continuous forward movement of the infinite span of time ahead.

“I love you, too,” I said.

A car driving toward us from down the road, not on the interstate below, piqued my attention, and I lifted my head to see a pair of headlights approaching the overpass from the east road.

“What if it’s the sheriff?” I asked.

Weston seemed unfazed. “He’ll tell us to move it along. No big deal.”

As the vehicle came closer, I saw it was a pickup, and it slowed to a stop just before it reached the bridge. I held my hand up to shelter my squinting eyes from the bright lights. All four doors of the crew cab opened, and several dark forms stepped out.

Weston sat up then, too, and hopped down to the dirty cement below. “Shit,” he hissed under his breath.

“You’re missing the party!” Brendan stepped out of the path of the headlights just enough so that he was no longer only a silhouette. He was holding a can of Natural Light in his hand, shifting his weight from one leg to the other just to stand upright.

Brady, Andrew, Micah, and Tyson were standing across from him, all holding beers of their own. Tyson seemed a bit unnerved. Andrew’s eyes were glazed over, and he was clearly focusing just as hard as Brendan to stay upright.

“Looks like y’all are about done for the night,” Weston said. His tone was guarded. He was trying to sound unaffected, but there was a tinge of nervousness in his voice.

“Want a beer?” Brendan asked, tossing a can toward Weston.

He let it fall to the ground near his feet. “Not really.”

“What’s your deal, Gates?” Andrew asked. “You never come out with us anymore. You’ve lost your sense of humor since you’ve been with her.” He pointed at me, his aim a little off.

“Pack it up, Erin. We’re going to find somewhere else not so crowded,” Weston said.

I closed the ice chest and began to fold the blanket.

“You really do think you’re too good to hang out with us, don’t you?” Brendan said. “What a fuckin’ douche bag you’ve turned into, Gates.”