YOU ARE IN LOVE - gracie abrams

one

chapter one:

happy birthday

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When I was seven, I met a girl.

She was sweet and funny and really smart—she knew how to subtract, and she could spell necessary without any mnemonic devices.

I was nothing but a stupid kid, but I knew we were meant to be—I knew that one day I would look her in the eyes and ask her to be mine.

But it has now been seventeen years, and Gracie Abrams is yet to be mine.

I've stood on the sidelines and watched her love other boys the way she should love me. I've watched them lie to her and break her heart, and I know I would never do that.

I would treat her like a princess.

Like the princess who saved me from the fiery dragons in every play-pretend world we used to live in. The princess she dressed up as every year for Halloween till we turned 16.

The princess I've always seen her as.

Last night I found a box of photos under my childhood bed. All my favorite memories, piled up in an old shoebox and shoved under the bed.

Photographs from Halloween with Gracie in her princess dresses and me in my grandma's homemade costumes. Photos of us building forts and destroying them again. Pictures from prom and graduation. Photographs of us growing up.

But one specific picture caught my eye—a candid of Gracie and me in her parents' backyard. She was laughing, her head thrown back and her eyes twinkling in the camera's bright flash.

And there I stood, off to the side, watching her with the familiar glint of admiration in my eyes.

Nine years have passed since the night that photo was taken, and the only thing that's changed is the maturity in our faces and Gracie's side-bang hairstyle.

Because that glint in my eyes is still there every time I look at her.

And I can't help but wonder if she views me with the same love and admiration—if she's ever looked at me and seen something more than her childhood friend, the boy who knows all her favorite ice cream flavors and can finish her sentences without thinking.

She probably hasn't, though.

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Tomorrow is Gracie's birthday, and she's invited everyone over to celebrate—her friends, her family, and her stupid boyfriend.

I'll be there too—with a gift, a smile, and a bunch of bad jokes. Just like I am every year.

"Eli?" Gracie calls my name from the living room, where she's setting everything up for the party. "Can you come help me with this thing?"

The vacuum cleaner is long forgotten as I rush to aid Gracie—this time she's too short to hang up a banner, so that becomes my job while she takes over the cleaning.

Our moms always called us the dream team; now I guess I can see why.

"You excited for tomorrow?" She asks me while she dusts off the table next to me. "Olivia's coming; you'll finally get to meet her!"

Gracie met Olivia a couple of years ago, and she's still brought up in every conversation—I'm stoked to meet her; see what all the fuzz is about.

"Yeah," I sigh. "But are you excited? It's your party."

Of course Gracie nods; of course she's excited—she doesn't have to spend an entire night watching the girl she loves more than anything be in love with some other guy.

"I can't wait to see everyone again."

I smile down at her; I guess as long as she's happy, I can be happy too—even if it means plastering on a smile and reminding myself that I'm lucky to even have her as a friend.

And that's a deal I'm willing to make. Anything to make her happy.

Like in our senior year when I went to prom with her as a friend after her initial date, Bryce Sherman, blew her off. Or when I agreed to set her up with my teammate, Logan Simmons, because she was too scared to ask him out herself.

I walked in on them in bed that year; I saw things I never should've seen.

But anything to make her happy. Right?

Anything. That's why I'll be there tomorrow night and watch her love someone else. That's why I'll show up and plaster on a smile to make sure she's enjoying herself.

I'll bring her the gift I picked out months ago. It's nothing extravagant, just a necklace with a little pendant that reminded me of her. Something simple, something thoughtful. Something I know she'll love because I've spent the last seventeen years of my life learning everything there is to know about Gracie Abrams.

And that's the thing—I know her. I know her better than anyone else ever will.

I know how she's not supposed to drink coffee but still does it because, allegedly, she's just better than everyone else. I know that she always twirls her hair when she's nervous and bites the insides of her cheeks when she's thinking too hard about something. I know she hates thunderstorms, even though she tells everyone they don't bother her.

I know all of these things, and yet it never seems to matter. She's still not mine.

So tomorrow, I'll stand in her living room and sip on my drink. I'll watch her laugh with her friends and this guy, who probably doesn't even realize how lucky he is. I'll watch him give her a gift she doesn't want, because he doesn't know her like I know her.

I'll see his arms around her waist and his lips on hers, and I'll feel my stomach twist.

But I'll just distract myself, talk with her friends, and remind myself that this is how it's always been; this is how it's always going to be. She'll never be mine.

After the party, I'll probably stay the night like I used to do when we were kids. I'll tuck her in and tell her a stupid joke just to hear her laugh, or maybe I'll just listen as she drunkenly rambles about whatever's going on inside her pretty head.

And when she's fallen asleep, I'll lay on the couch and stare up at the ceiling, wondering if I'm the fool for spending seventeen years chasing something that I, deep down, know isn't mine to keep.

But for now, I'll hang up every banner she can't reach, and I'll enjoy the sound of her laughter whenever Weenie starts dancing with her.

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🫶:

first chapter yay

im so excited for this book ngl