Page 44 of Until The Lights Go Out

“Maise—”

“Why didn’t you write?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could lose the nerve.

His expression flickered.

“I did,” he said.

My breath caught. “What?”

“I wrote,” he repeated, quieter. “Just…never sent them.”

My heart stuttered painfully in my chest. “Why?” I asked.

Then, almost too quiet to hear, “You wouldn’t have written back.”

I stared at him, something warm and aching and impossibly fragile blooming in my chest.

“You don’t know that.”

“Didn’t want to find out I was right.”

There was a rawness there I’d never seen before, not from him.

He was always strong as stone, no matter what happened. No matter how awful his dad was or if he didn’t place, he didn’t let the emotion show, not on the outside anyway. Carefully, like approaching something that might break, I shifted a little closer. Not much, just enough that the distance didn’t feel like an ocean anymore.

“You were my best friend,” I whispered into the dark minutes later, not sure if he was even awake.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice rough. “You were mine too.”

My fingers inched across the sheets before I could overthink it, brushing lightly against his hand. He stilled, but he didn’t pull away. And neither did I.

14

THEO | 16 YEARS OLD

The hill had become ours by accident. The first time, it had just been a place far enough from the hotel that no one would notice two rival karting brats sneaking out after curfew. A patch of wild grass beyond the service road, tucked behind a line of dark pines, with a perfect view of the city lights bleeding gold into the horizon and the stars overhead. Now, it was where we always met. Midnight, like clockwork.

I was there first for once, sitting on the hood of the battered car I had bought just this last summer. I always parked it far away, which made my dad pissed, but this was the reason why. My trainers hooked over the bumper, my hands shoved into the pocket of my hoodie against the cold, I pulled out the sour candies I had stowed in my pocket knowing Maisey was a sucker for them.

I heard her before I saw her. “Did you seriously start without me?” she called out, huffing up the hill.

I looked up to find Maisey climbing the slope, her oversized jumper barely hanging onto one shoulder and slouching down the other. Her hair caught the moonlight, all copper and fire, and for a second I forgot that I was meant to chide her like usual.

“You’re late, Red,” I finally managed.

She huffed, finally reaching the top. “It was thirty seconds.”

“Forty-five.”

“Oh, shut it.”

I grinned despite myself and shifted over on the hood to make room for her. She climbed up beside me with a dramatic sigh, shoulders bumping mine in a way that had become so normal that I barely thought about it anymore.

We sat there in easy silence for a moment, looking up at the sky. The stars were bright tonight, sharper than usual, scattered across the dark, like someone had flicked paint across black velvet.

Maisey tipped her head back. “Do you think they look different depending on where you are?”

I glanced at her. “The stars?”