Lost and Found

chapter one

"So where are you going for college?" Finnick asked, Indian squatting on the carpeted floor in my room.

"Hmm?" I lay on my bed upside down, losing myself in a Harry Potter book.

On Thursday nights like this, I would usually be out with my family or with my other friends, but this time was different. I didn't feel like going out, and my parents were still at a party, so I invited Finnick over. We spent the rest of the day binge watching on Netflix, and we just had dinner. Now we're in my room.

"You know, after graduation. Where are you going?"

Now he was sprawled across the floor, his arms stretched out like a snow angel. I looked up just in time to see his position, and stifled a laugh. I bent over and quickly snapped a picture of him with my phone, which, unfortunately, was not on silent mode.

"I swear I'll kill you if you post that!" He immediately sprang up and bounced on the bed, desperately reaching out for my phone. I turned in the other direction and extended my arm as high as I could.

"Not if you beat me to it!" I screamed back laughing, and as soon as I began running to the door, I regretted saying that. Sure, I was a fast runner, but, Finnick Beauregard was even faster. I mean, he's a boy.

He blocked the door and grabbed my phone, craning sideways to get a better view of the picture. He tapped on the trash bin icon, and I lunged forward, pinning him against the door, before he could tap delete.

I snatched the phone from him, which he immediately took back as soon as he flicked away my hand on his chest, and pinned me against the door. He tapped delete, and placed my phone on the coffee table right next to the door. So much for trying to protect my phone, I sighed.

Then it happened.

His blue eyes seemed to stare deep into my soul. Suddenly I noticed how handsome he looked in a white t-shirt and denim jeans, but I didn't say it out loud. He still had the same dark brown hair, which was always combed up to look like ice cream, and the same pointed nose. He was taller than me now, which happened all thanks to puberty. Then I noticed the muscles in his arms. Oh, he works out. How could I have not known that?

He leaned in closer, and for a second, I thought he was going to kiss me.

What? Why would you think that, Emery? He can't kiss you! Besides, he's your best friend!

Then my hunch was almost right. He cupped my cheek, and as soon as his lips were about to crash into mine, I lightly shoved him away and went back to lying on the bed.

"What the heck, Finnick?"

"I-I'm sorry-" he stammered, his ears turning pink.

"Know what? Forget about it. I know you didn't mean it," I assured him, cutting him off.

He's probably just having a rough day, I reminded myself. He would never do it on purpose.

Then an awkward silence followed. It would've gone like that for hours, until Finnick spoke up.

"You still didn't answer my question."

"Oh, right. College." I sighed. "I honestly don't know."

"What about NYU? I mean, your writing skills are just so good!" he exclaimed. I beamed. Finnick was the only person who knew about my black notebook. It was a small one - one I had kept since I was 12, and I used it for my stories and poems.

"Well, I always considered it. It's just that, you know, I don't wanna think about college and getting a job and paying for my own bills just yet. All I want to worry about right now is the present. I just want to live in the moment and feel young you know - you get me, right?" He nodded.

"Yeah, I get what you mean. I always get that feeling too."

"You? Where are you going?" He shrugged.

"I'm thinking maybe Harvard. You know, med school." His whole family's composed of doctors, and he'll be one of them.

"At least you know where you're headed."

"At least you're not forced into making decisions early."

"At least you have everything planned out for you."

"At least you're going to become a famous journalist in the future."

"Shut up! You're still going to be ten times more brilliant than I am, Dr. Beauregard." I threw a pillow at him, and he covered his head with his hands in defeat. "And besides, it's not a hundred percent certain that I will become a famous one," I added.

"Then when I'm going to be this famous and brilliant doctor you keep describing," he continued. "I will make it sure all my patients read your book so that it will be a hundred percent certain that you are famous."

"Aww, you'd do that?" I cooed, flashing him puppy dog eyes.

"Nah, I take it back. I was just kidding about all that," he teased.

"You jerk!" I quipped, throwing a pillow at him. He caught the pillow with his hand, and soon enough, we were tangled up in a mess of pillow foam and laughter - the aftermath of a pillow fight.

Eventually, the laughter stopped.

"So, it's prom this Saturday. The last prom we will ever have, in fact." I reminded him.

"Yawn. Still not going. Are you going out with someone, anyway?"

"Remember Carter Keaton, the quarterback?"

Then his face grew serious. "Him? You're going out with THAT douchebag? That arse who only cares about getting into girls' pants?" I sighed. Finnick has always been overprotective of me, especially when it came to other boys. I always thought it was good that he cared about my safety, but sometimes it all gets a little too much.

"Finnick, you know I can take good care of myself - "

"No, you don't understand! You don't understand that this arse is doing whatever it takes to get you laid. You don't understand that he will just break your heart like that, and I do not want that to happen to you!" he ranted, his voice filled with rage and emotion.

That's when the tears started falling. He noticed, of course, and he quickly pulled me into a warm embrace.

"I'm sorry, Emery Wilder. It's just that I care about you that much. You deserve better. You deserve someone who won't treat you like that."

I wiped away the tears, and looked up at him. "Thanks, Finnick. Really. You really are my best friend," I said. "But please, just let me have fun - just this once."

He put a hand to his forehead and sighed. "Fine. But I swear, if that douchebag does anything to you, I am going to have to teach his balls a lesson."

"Like I said, I can handle this on my own," I assured him. "But anyway. Does this mean you're finally going to the prom?" I smirked.

He hesitated for a while, then he replied, "Okay, maybe just this once." I clapped my hands in delight. "On one condition."

I groaned. "What?"

"You have to save me a dance."

For some reason, the hairs on my arms stood on end.

"Sure, one dance as friends won't hurt, right?" He threw his fist in the air and laughed.

Our happiness was abrupted by the impatient honk of my parents' car.

"I should probably get going now," he breathlessly said.

"You can stay for a while," I replied. "My parents won't mind that I invited you over."

"Nah, Bruce and my mom are probably waiting right now." Bruce. His stepfather.

He waved me goodbye, and I watched him go out of my room. Few seconds later, he was outside my house, smiling politely at my parents as they walked out of the car. I put my fingers to my lips and wondered what would have happened if I didn't stop him from kissing me - what it would feel like to be kissed by my best friend.

"Gosh, Emery. You're such a girl," I told myself, fighting the blush that was creeping into my cheeks. "Get over yourself."