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Here’s to the 10 characters, 5 couples, 3 teams, 2 sets of siblings, and 1 amazing friend group that changed my life. This one is dedicated to you, the readers. Thank you for hanging out in Chicago with me.
“Did you just say you raw-dog it when referring to your dairy intake?” “Yeah. If there’s ice cream and I don’t have a pill on me, I’m not going to not eat it, you know? Are you one of the lucky ones with a stomach that can handle dairy?”
“What are you listening to?” “I don’t know the name. I just picked a song to remember the moment.”
“I pick a song when something cool or important happens so I can remember it. Then when I want to relive a moment, I rewind it back and start the song from the beginning.”
She used to steal all my thoughts. She used to occupy my entire existence. I almost forgot what that felt like. I’ve spent six years subconsciously comparing every date to her. Comparing their laugh to hers. Their kindness to hers. Their confidence to hers. Their taste in music to hers.
That thing I’ve been looking for since I moved to Chicago? That connection? That one person some search their entire lives to find? I had already found her when I was twelve years old. At least, I thought I had. I know what I’m looking for because I had it once, and now the only girl I’ve ever loved is moving into the house next to mine. Again.
“The guy you were with tonight.” I slowly shift back to face her. “Who was he?” The set in her jaw is evident even from here. “Not your job to worry about.” Nodding, I turn back to my house, hands casually tucked in my pockets as I continue to walk. With my back to her, I make sure my words are loud enough for her to hear them. “Lose him.”
Rio DeLuca can go ahead and fuck himself.
Stevie with the curly hair and worn-in Nikes on her feet. Indy with her blonde braid and Converse. Miller with her tattoos and overalls. Kennedy with the Vans and striking red hair.
For so long, I held on to every little detail of our relationship, replaying them in my mind on a loop. I cherished the smallest moments we had together. Even at my lowest points, I was grateful that I got to be loved like that at least once in my life. I never forgot him. I never forgot us. And apparently, neither did he.
I’ve never forgotten this girl, not even for a second, and it’s about time she knows that.
The picture I painted for her is playing like a movie in my head as I come inside of her. As she holds me to her. As she tells me she’s mine and that I’m hers. I pull out and watch my cum drip down her leg before using two fingers to push it back inside of her.
“I love that dress on you, baby.” “Thank you. It’s—” “Take it off.”
“Are you sure that’s not just a first-love thing?” “No, baby. It’s a last-love thing.”
“Look at you,” he murmurs. “You look so pretty on your knees.” “Is this what you picture when you’re getting yourself off?”
Because, yes, it’s fun to fuck, but we always end up here, kissing slowly, giving praise, letting hands roam and wander before they end up intertwined with one another.
We are rare. What we have is rare and I’m going to spend the rest of my life protecting it.
“Do you remember why you said you kept track of those songs?” “Something about when I want to relive a moment, I can rewind it back and start from the beginning.”
“Rio, playing for Boston is your childhood dream.” I shake my head. “You’re my childhood dream.”
Hallie slides onto my lap, while the others find their way to their person. Then it’s the ten of us. How it was always supposed to be.
“Friends are the family you choose, and I’ve got to say, I’ve got the best family a guy could ask for.”