Don't Forget Me

Chapter Seventeen.

Being home felt weird.

Everything was exactly how I left it-my room, my bed, the stack of unread books on my shelf, the blinking string lights above my window-but I wasn't the same. I couldn't stop thinking about him. About how it felt to fall asleep in his arms. About the way he kissed me like I was something he didn't want to forget. About that stupid necklace-the purple stone still wrapped around my neck like it was stitched to my skin.

I hadn't taken it off. Not once. Not even when I showered.

I hadn't cried yet, either. Not really. Not in the loud, messy way people expect. But I was cracked open in the quiet kind of way. The way where silence hurt. The way where you stare at the ceiling at night wondering if he's staring at his, too.

So, when Julianna texted me that she was on her way over, I didn't even think to say no. I just replied with a halfhearted "okay" and tossed my phone aside.

She let herself in, as usual, walking into my room like she owned it. Her hair was thrown up in a messy bun, sunglasses still perched on her head like she was waiting for a red carpet to roll out under her feet. She looked at me for all of three seconds before dropping dramatically onto my bed beside me.

"So?" she said. "Tell me everything."

I stared at her, blinking. "Everything?"

"Yes. Everything. The boat. The family disaster I'm sure it was. But mostly..." Her lips curled into a mischievous smile. "The boy."

I sighed and pulled the blanket tighter around my legs. "It wasn't supposed to be anything."

Julianna snorted. "You have that look. Don't give me the 'wasn't supposed to be anything' speech. That necklace alone says it was something."

I glanced down at the purple stone resting just above my chest, glowing faintly under the sunlight. I hadn't even told her it was from him yet.

"His name was Colt."

Julianna's eyes lit up like I'd just handed her the juiciest story she'd ever heard. "Colt? That's hot. Please tell me he was also hot and not, like, a dad vacationing alone with his beer gut."

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips. "He was hot. And funny. And sweet. And-God, Jules-it wasn't supposed to happen."

"But it did," she said, softer now. "And then what? You two exchanged numbers? Planned a trip to see each other over Christmas break? What's the plan?"

"There isn't one."

Her head snapped toward me so fast I thought she might've pulled something. "What?"

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. "I told him not to stay in touch."

Julianna sat up straighter, eyebrows raised. "I'm sorry, you what?"

"I told him not to come see me. Or call. Or text. Or anything."

She stared at me for a full ten seconds. "Lux, are you serious?"

"I thought it'd be easier," I said quietly. "I thought... if I ended it before it dragged out, it wouldn't hurt as bad."

She let out an exasperated breath. "That's bullshit."

"I know."

"No. Like, full-on, Grade A, straight-from-the-cow bullshit." She pointed at the necklace. "You're wearing something he gave you. You slept with him. You had this whole vacation-movie romance arc and you just ghosted him because it was 'easier'?"

"I didn't ghost him. I told him to go."

"That's worse!"

I laughed, even though it wasn't funny. "I didn't think I'd miss him this much."

She softened a little then, curling her legs beneath her and resting her chin on her fist. "Do you want to talk to him again?"

I didn't answer. I didn't have to.

She already knew.

"Well, you're in luck," she said, grabbing her phone and unlocking it. "Because you've got me. And I'm better than the FBI."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're seriously going to try to find him?"

"Of course I am. His name's Colt. He's eighteen. From California. You probably have a picture of him, right?"

I nodded, reaching for my phone. "We took photos in a booth on the cruise. These are the only ones I have."

I handed her the strip we took, scanned into my camera roll. Julianna zoomed in, squinting. "Okay. Let's work some magic."

She searched Instagram first. Nothing came up. Then Facebook. Twitter. Even LinkedIn. I don't know what she expected to find there, but she was desperate.

"No last name?" she asked.

"Nope. He never told me. Said it was more fun that way."

Julianna gave me a look that screamed you absolute idiot, but kept searching anyway. She tried image reverse search. She tried searching cruise hashtags and tagging locations from the dates we were on the boat.

Nothing.

No posts. No usernames. No tags.

It was like he didn't exist.

"Jesus," she muttered, pushing her phone away. "Your boy's a ghost."

I sank back against the pillows, the weight in my chest growing heavier.

"What if I really never find him again?" I whispered.

Julianna looked at me, and for once, she didn't have something sarcastic to say.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "But if he's out there, he's probably thinking the same thing about you."