THE SUMMER I LOVED HER, Conrad Fisher

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

PROLOGUE.

• DAISY BARDOT'S POV •

   THE INTOLERABLE feeling I felt in my stomach couldn't go ignored. I could feel my guts practically twisting and turning in every way, igniting the anxiety in me that caused my palms to sweat and the feeling of spewing out every piece of word vomit I could.

I hated the feeling of being here. I hated the way the bluebirds that swarmed the grey concrete bird pond in front of the freshly painted white house would sing happily, as if this place was filled with joy and excitement. I hated the way the bright porch swing screamed for attention, but the only two whoever used it would never touch it again. I hated the way that I used to open that light lily white front door so easily, and now it was tainted with memories of hidden moments. I hated the fact that this house used to be my greatest comfort, that has just now turned into an agony of pain.

I glanced around the front of the Fisher house, noticing how the empty site of the driveway made my nerves slightly calm. I couldn't deal with the fact I'd have to face Susannah and Jeremiah by coming here. I was thankful he had chosen a time for me to come by without them here. Knowing Conrad, I was worried he'd pull that type of tactic to guilt trip me.

I sucked in a deep breath, shaking my head as if it'd take my worries away. I contemplated in my head if I should run and never look back but knew that wasn't right. I had to buck of the courage to take a few steps into a house, grab a box, and book it. But this underlying fear irked me in a way that made me question whether I wanted to do this in person or not. But I wanted my guitar back — that's all that mattered.

Get guitar, get out.

Swiftly, I walked up the brick driveway. My mind boggled with scenarios on what was going to happen between the interactions of Conrad and me. It was embarrassing, really. How affected I was over such a silly task. Then again, it was bound to be an awkward, explosive situation.

I had known Conrad since Freshman year of High School — we had the same Biology class, me being front row and him being back. But him and I had never spoken until our sophomore year when he had overheard my friend's and I's mischievous plan on crashing my mother's debutante ball, she held every summer at the country club. I was always a victim of force when it came to appearing at my mother's ball, finding myself in some bright white dress that was more expensive than my 2006 Jeep Wrangler, while covered in posh, organic makeup that I had never heard of in my entire life.

The relationship him and I created was to simply please our urges without complications or feelings getting in the way. I held my end of the deal — don't catch a crush, and don't tell. He broke both of those requirements. First, he had spilled to Jeremiah, his younger brother, that him and I were pursuing a relationship. In his own defense, Jeremiah had found a message Conrad had received from me on his phone after Conrad had left it behind; opened for all to see. That was his own fault. Then, with what came many hours of spending our time together, came unannounced feelings that grew. I wasn't necessarily upset he had gained feelings for me; I was more or so upset with the fact I found out the night our relationship had been ruined.