"I know I'll never forget
The way I always felt with you beside me,
And how you loved me then.."
- Red, "Never Be the Same"

I can smell her on him. Pumpkin spice and cinnamon. I want to throw up.

"Leah?" he asks. I glance up. "What are you thinking about?"

I'm tempted to say, 'You. I'm thinking about you. I'm always thinking about you.' But I don't. "Rainbows and butterflies," I reply.

A chuckle escapes through his lips. I cringe. I don't remember the last time I heard him laugh around me.

"Really, Leah..what are you thinking?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know, Sam. I guess I'm really not thinking about anything." Except you.

"Is that possible? To not think about anything?"

"I'm not sure," I answer. I hope it is.

"Do you remember when we first met?" My stomach drops and I allow the memories to fill my head.

"Yes."

"You were seven, I was nine. We were playing cowboys and indians."

"I was the cowboy, and you were the indian," I say, remembering everything about that day; the day I met my first love.

"You caught me. I was the first person caught. I got so mad that I-"

I cut him off. "That you pushed me to the ground. I scraped both my knees on the pavement." The permanent scars on my knees were a constant reminder of that day.

"You told your dad on me and I ended up getting grounded."

I bite the inside of the cheek, letting out a long sigh. "I went over to your house after dinner and apologized."

"I didn't apologize," he said. A laugh soon followed after. "I don't think I ever apologized. So, Leah Clearwater, I am sorry for pushing you."

I couldn't help but smile at that. "Apology accepted."

There was a long pause. He breaks it.

"Leah..," he begins. I hear him take in a deep breath. "I really am sorry."

"Please don't."

"But I am." He's apologized before. I've never accepted. What makes this time so different?

"Leave," I demand. He's taken aback at first, but then stands up. Just as he's about to leave, he turns back toward me.

"I almost forgot," he said as he pulled something out of his coat pocket and set it down on the table. A card? Invitation, maybe?

He walks away from me. When he's out of sight, I slide the piece of paper over to me. I open it up.

You've been invited to the wedding of Sam Uley and Emily Young.

"I fucking hate you, Sam Uley."