Fiona's POV:
It was three summers ago when I found out I was in love with you. We were on vacation in Saint-Tropez, while Mom and Dad left us alone to do whatever while they did business. I remember we spend every waking hour at Baie de Pompelonne beach, basking in the marvelous sun and letting it dry the salty spray from our bronze limbs. I was in heaven. I sighed, and said I never wanted to go back to New York again. You agreed with me.
That summer, every day on the beach, we tanned and talked about life's deep mysteries. You told me you hated how superficial everyone was. You said you acted like a snob to please Mom and Dad, like maybe if you were a good son they'd love each other again. But you told me you secretly wanted to do something shocking, like dye your hair green, wear makeup, get piercings and black clothes, and run away to start a rock band. I told you that was ridiculous, but you disagreed. You said the only time you truly felt like yourself was not, staring out at the ocean waves, so crystal blue it hurt to look at. You told me it was the only time you felt alive. I looked up into your eyes, identical to the sea that lapped against our ankles, and saw a twinkle I'd never seen before. You grabbed my hand, holding it tight like if you let go I'd drown, and you waded farther into the ocean, staring into the horizon, while I watched the sun shine off your bronze hair. That moment I knew we shared a secret bond. It was then I fell in love.
But despite our pleas to stay, Mom and Dad dragged us back to the city. We put our school uniforms on and locked ourselves in our rooms, music blasting loud in our headphones to stop the screaming fights. Dad left us that year, and Mom pretended not to notice us by drowning herself in work. You were the only one who cared what I had to say. You helped me while I cried when Thomas Cane broke up with me. You hung out with me when my friends had all abandoned me. You took me to the vintage shop and bought me whatever I wanted on our birthday. You never acted mad at me, or embarrassed to be seen with me. You defended me when people teased us for hanging out so much.
Then you met Molly Sanders, and everything changed between us. You were popular, and I was the rich misfit. You started sleeping with her, and I was jealous. It made me sick to see you in love with her. Why couldn't it be me? What was so wrong with me? And when you guys broke up, and you were miserable, I pretended to be sad, when I was really relieved.
Not long after Molly, Mom moved us to Canada. You automatically sought haven in the school, hanging fun in drama. You started hanging out with Jane, and I was furious. So instead of moping around, I decided to make you jealous with Riley. He was a football player, buff, with a smart mouth and good looks. You told me to be careful. I laughed at you and told you to mind your own business. But both our flings ended, and things were good again.
You spent every day at lunch with me. You went to movies with me and talked to me about every topic under the sun. You told me I was the only person who saw the real you, who understood who you really were. I was the one who didn't judge.
But it didn't take long for you to forget our moments together. Every say I sat alone at lunch, knife in my heart while you held Holly J Sinclair's hand, while you stroked her strawberry hair.
WHY DIDN'T YOU LOVE ME?
Why didn't you see how much I loved you?
