"Someone once told me that all your problems could be washed away in the sea. Guess that's not true for me."
One Year Older is a tale of Daya Johnston, whose love story unfolds by the sea during the spring break of her final year of high school. Her...
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Day One - April 15, Monday
A year passed that had spun my world in directions I never anticipated. It had been a year since my father's departure fractured the family I knew. Forgiveness seemed like a distant shore, and I was unsure if I'd ever reach it.
It had been a year since Piper, Celia, and our mishmash of friends entered my life. Among them was Banks, with his easy smile and eyes. A year since our love formed in the stars and sand.
Yet, Jay's shadow lingered, a ghost that refused to stay silent. It had been a year since he fled, and I, like a moth to a flame, followed. We made it back home, but the memories slipped through the cracks.
It had been one year, and though the days were brighter, the past still haunted my thoughts, a reminder that time moves forward, but memories are timeless.
I stood at a crossroads in my life, the spring breeze playing with my hair as I gazed out over the neighborhood I had always known. My spring break hadn't officially started yet, but soon my best friends, Piper and Celia, would be showing me around their college campus. They wanted me to experience college life firsthand, to see if that was where I truly belonged.
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My weekdays would buzz with the rhythm of college life, the lecture halls, the study sessions, and the laughter shared with my girls.
But it was the weekend that held the promise of something extraordinary. Our friend group, scattered across different universities, would reunite for the first time since last summer. I was erupting with anticipation as I packed my bag. The familiar faces, the inside jokes, and the shared memories awaited me at Neo's beach house.
The sun decorated my room in warm hues and intricate patterns. I turned 18 in January and I was graduating high school in a month. The acceptance letters from various universities sat in my room, the University of Maine and Columbia. Each a path into a different future. But there, talking on the phone to them about the ivy-covered buildings and the promise of knowledge, I felt a pull that said, 'This could be it.'
Piper and Cece chattered excitedly through FaceTime, pointing out the library, the coffee shop, and the hidden nooks where students gathered to study or steal kisses. I listened, my mind racing.
