“Whenever you find yourself stuck on a task, ask yourself, ‘What would it look like if this were fun?’ And watch creativity burst out of you.”
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~ Elizabeth ~
“He kissed me.” I blurted it out, barely realizing I’d spoken aloud until the words were floating in the silence between us.
Luke didn’t flinch. Just smiled slightly and tilted his head in that calm, patient way of his. “Is he a good kisser?”
I gasped, my cheeks burning, before chuckling softly. How was I even supposed to answer that? What qualifies someone as a good kisser anyway? Fireworks? Butterflies? Or the way your heart stumbles right after?
“Probably,” I murmured, eyes drifting upward. An eagle soared above us in perfect motion—its wings slicing through the sky like poetry. Its presence was powerful and undeniable.
“Patrick sometimes reminds me so much of myself,” Luke said suddenly, in a distant tone.
“How?” I asked, shifting my gaze back to him.
“I was a troubled youngster too… but unlike him, I fought for the freedom I desired—and deserved.”
“You think Patrick is troubled?”
“Obviously, yes.”
I frowned, confused. “But why would he be? His father’s rich. He’s got power and position at school. Everyone respects him—adores him.”
Luke looked at me with a softness that carried weight. “Things aren’t always as they seem, Beth. There are people we look at and assume they have everything—the perfect life, the perfect family, the perfect smile. But inside, they’re carrying battles we can’t see.”
Are they?
His words echoed inside me like a ripple on still water.
“But Patrick’s different. He’s…” I paused, trying to find the right word. “Confident.”
Luke’s faint smile curved deeper. “Sometimes we use confidence to hide what we don’t want the world to see. Pain, fear, anguish…. Confidence can sometimes be used as an armor.”
I reached for a small pebble near my feet and tossed it into the lake. The splash was quiet, almost meditative.
“Want my advice?”
I nodded.
“Give him time. Get to know him for real. Don’t just listen to what others say or rely on what you think you know. Learn who he is—beneath the surface.”
“You think that’s a good idea?”
The question wasn’t meant for him. Not really. It was more of a whisper to myself. What difference can five days make? And that’s if he doesn’t leave before I do…
“Patrick’s flight is Sunday. Three p.m.,” Luke said, reading me as if my thoughts were on my forehead.
I sighed. “Hm.”
“Be careful, though,” he added, this time with a quiet concern that wrapped around me like a blanket.
“You wouldn’t advise me to stay away?”
His smirk returned, and his voice was sure. “Pointless. You wouldn’t.”
I stared at him, slightly stunned.
“We don’t often take caution when we’re in love, Beth.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“That depends on the context.”
“Meaning?”
“Love is always risky,” he said, looking straight into my eyes. “It’s up to us to decide if the risk is worth it.”
“You think it is?”
“It’s always worth it.”
And just then, his phone buzzed. The way his eyes lit up at the screen made something flutter inside me. Like watching a man fall in love with a single glance.
“Hi, hon,” he answered, a voice so tender it made me smile. A smile is born of witnessing something pure.
I couldn’t hear the other’s response, but I didn’t need to. I could tell from his responses.
“Oh… yes. We can have lunch later. No worries… Yes, yes, she’s with me.”
I wasn’t sure what warmed me more—the possessiveness or the quiet joy in his tone.
“Yes, love you.”
I swallowed. My heart ached in the best way. That was what I wanted too. Someone who wouldn’t be shy to love me. Someone who would choose me, openly and fully.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Luke asked.
“Mm, nothing.”
But as I looked at him, the truth settled gently inside me—this smart, thoughtful, able-bodied man was going to be my father.
“I still can’t believe we’ll be family soon.”
“We already are,” he said, pulling me into a side hug. I rested my head on his shoulder. It was solid and warm—like home. “One big, happy family.”
I closed my eyes, breathing in the moment.
Would I ever be loved like that? Not out of duty. Not because someone had to. But because they chose me—wanted me?
Would I?
—
I was fifteen, introverted, yet curious and so full of life. when I went through my first ever heartbreak.
Summer had always been my favorite season. Not just because of the sun or the long holidays, but because of summer camps. They were my little taste of freedom—a glimpse into different lives, new friendships, the thrill of possibilities.
Eliezer had been buzzing with excitement. She’d packed and unpacked her bags three times before the trip. I, the quiet introvert, wasn’t half as enthusiastic. But her joy was infectious.
I could still remember how Mom and Dad hugged us tight that morning. Told us they loved us. They told us to stay close and be kind. We were so happy then. A picture-perfect family of four. The envy of our neighbors, even if they never said it aloud.
“We’re going to have lots of fun!” Eliezer beamed, dragging her bright pink suitcase behind her as we approached the registration tents in our matching white camp shirts and denim shorts.
I nodded, quietly taking it all in—the buzz, the noise, the strangers. So many faces from all over the country. Camp was a melting pot of stories, and I knew mine was just beginning.
Orientation dragged on for two long hours, thanks to interruptions and late arrivals. But it was fine. We survived it.
That first night, Eliezer claimed the top bunk, while I took the bottom. I tried to read The Secret History by Donna Tartt but found my mind too restless. So I wandered outside into the moonlight, book in hand.
The swing creaked gently beneath me as I read.
Then I heard his voice.
“Salut, jolie fille.”
Hello, pretty girl.
His French was effortless. I blushed.
“Salut, joli garçon,” I replied, stumbling over my words. My accent wasn’t nearly as polished as his, but it made him smile—and that smile felt like a sunrise.
Looking back now, I wonder…
Did I misread him? Like, I might be misreading Patrick now.
Because it all felt too good to be true. And that’s often how heartbreak starts, isn’t it? With hope.
A tear escaped down my cheek. I wiped it quickly and closed the poetry book I’d been reading—Climate by Whitney Hanson. I didn’t remember when I started loving poems about heartbreak. Maybe because they spoke what I couldn’t say. Or maybe because they made me feel less alone.
Still, a part of me dared to hope.
What if my story turns out differently?
What if I don’t get the same ending?
My phone buzzed. I reached for it on the nightstand, my heart skipping when I saw his name.
Patrick:
Hey, wanna spend the day at the beach with me tomorrow?
My chest tightened, and I smiled.
Maybe… just maybe.
Me: Sure.
A few seconds later, another message popped in.
:Don’t forget the bathing suits.
I stared at the screen, blushing. I’d never worn one before. They always felt too revealing, too much. But for Patrick?
Maybe I would.
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A/N: What do you think of this chapter, guys?