Prologue

End of Freshman year

He stands at the entrance of the hospital room I’m currently in, the hallway lights a dark halo behind him. His features are rugged and jagged, a stark contrast to his usual appearance. The dirt and sweat are a sexy, masculine combination, but his eyes don’t hold the love they usually have for me.

Earlier, we went out hiking and decided to climb up a rock wall. I lost my footing and fell a few feet, landing wrong. Our trip ended with me in the hospital and him standing there looking at me with a crazed expression.

My physical pain has been cast aside as I finally opened up to him and told him how I felt. The unique scent that is all him filters into my hospital room as he makes his way from the wooden door to my bedside.

His fists clench at his side. “You see me as more than just a friend?” The flint of steel in his voice holds anger, not happiness, or even friendliness. I thought he would’ve been happy, but the anger rolling off of him tells me differently. He once asked me, back when we were in our early teens if I would ever see him as more than just a friend. At the time, I thought he was joking. But I told him the truth: we would always be just friends. Then I grew up, and now at the ripe age of eighteen, I wish I could take that long ago moment away. Change it. Because the truth is, we aren’t just friends. Who could predict that feelings would deepen and change?

“Answer me.” His voice is cold, not like his usual happy-go-lucky self.

I wish I had never said anything and could hide in a corner right now. This didn’t go how I had planned in my head at all. “Y-y-yes,” I shake my head to the side and look away from him, only to find my nerve and look at him once more.

I find my voice and sit a little straighter on the bed. With the added courage, I continue on. “I’m sorry that almost dying got me to finally recognize my feelings for you.” And realize that I don’t want any other man in my life but him at my side.

He scoffs. “You broke your leg; you didn’t almost die, drama queen.”

Why is he so angry? This only fuels my own temper. “Es lo mismo.” Keep calm Roni, I remind myself as I take a deep breath and continue on, “It doesn’t matter because I love you. And we should be together, as more than just friends.” I reach for him, but he pulls away and stomps out of the hospital room. His departure feels like a slap to the face, and I cup my cheek.

Disbelief encircles me as I wait for him to come back, but he never does. The waves of hurt crash through me, and is more painful than my broken leg. His reaction isn’t real… it can’t be.

I wait for a few more days to hear from him. But I only get radio silence. No returned calls or text messages. Usually, when we fight, we have to take some time to cool off, but this time something feels off. Different.