The Summer I Turned Pretty The Collection

by Jenny Han

“Let’s all go.” So we all went, my mother too. I couldn’t believe I was going on dates with my mother and my brother in the backseat.

And no matter what you do or how hard you try, you can’t stop yourself from dreaming.

This, this was heartbreak. The pain in your chest, the ache behind your eyes. The knowing that things will never be the same again.

Susannah took my hand and held it. “Don’t hate Conrad,” she said. “I don’t,” I lied. I hated him more than anything. I loved him more than anything. Because, he was everything. And I hated that, too.

How do you regret one of the best nights of your entire life? You don’t. You remember every word, every look. Even when it hurts, you still remember.

with me. Never. But I had loved him. I loved him longer and truer than I had anyone in my whole life and I would probably never love anyone that way again. Which, to be honest, was almost a relief.

He kissed like he was drowning and I was air. It was passionate, and desperate, and like nothing I had ever experienced before.

Looking up at him, I had this sudden thought. Oh my God. I still love you. I’d thought my feelings for Conrad were safely tucked away, like my old Rollerblades and the little gold watch my dad bought me when I first learned how to tell time. But just because you bury something, that doesn’t mean it stops existing.

Those feelings, they’d been there all along. All that time. I had to just face it. He was a part of my DNA. I had brown hair and I had freckles and I would always have Conrad in my heart. He would inhabit just that tiny piece of it, the little-girl part that still believed in musicals, but that was it. That was all he got. Jeremiah would have everything else—the present me and the future me. That was what was important. Not the past.

Maybe that was how it was with all first loves. They own a little piece ...

Firsts were important. But I was pretty sure lasts were even more important.

“On a scale of one to ten, how in love were you?” “You can’t put being in love on a scale,” I said. “Either you are or you aren’t.”

So no, he didn’t give me flowers or candy. He gave me the moon and the stars. Infinity.