Chapter 4
Our families had been close for generations. We literally grew up together.
Actually, we’d been together since birth.
Mom always told me that Alistair and I were born on the exact same day–he just beat me into the world by two hours.
That’s why he always insisted he was my big brother and had to protect me.
When I was five, the neighbor’s huge dog started chasing me. I was crying and screaming for my mom.
Alistair grabbed this stick and chased the dog away.
He was just this tiny little kid, holding a stick taller than he was, trying to sound like some action hero but still talking in his squeaky voice: “Bad doggy! Don’t you pick on Aurelia!”
He was only a year older than me, but he always acted like my personal superhero.
“Don’t worry, Aurelia. I’ve got you!”
That was his favorite thing to say when we were little.
Every time he said it, he’d puff out his little chest, looking so proud of himself.
In elementary school, we naturally became desk partners.
He’d share his snacks with me and stick up for me whenever someone gave me trouble.
This one time, some boys in our class were making fun of me, calling me a crybaby and saying all girls were wimps.
Alistair didn’t even hesitate–he just went after them.
Two little boys rolling around on the playground, pushing and kicking each other.
They both ended up pretty beat up, and both sets of parents got called in.
Walking home afterward, with his face all bruised and swollen, he told me: “Next time anyone messes with you, I’m gonna beat them up too!”
He sounded so tough, but his eyes were full of worry for me.
I was tearing up as I cleaned his cuts, my little hands shaking because I was scared of hurting him.
“Does it hurt?”
“Nah! I’m tough–this is nothing!”
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He was trying so hard to act strong, it made me want to cry and laugh at the same time.
My heart felt so warm, like there was this little flame burning inside me.
That’s when I knew having Alistair around was the best thing ever.
In middle school, girls started slipping love letters into his desk.
He was good–looking, smart, great at basketball–basically every girl’s crush.
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Chapter 4
Pink envelopes, perfumed paper, one after another showing up in his desk.
But he never even looked at them. Just tossed them straight in the trash.
Then he’d grab my hand and say, “Come on, let’s go home and do homework.”
The warmth of his palm made my heart skip a beat.
One girl who had a crush on him wouldn’t give up. She cornered us: “Alistair, why won’t you answer my letters?”
“Because they’re pointless,” he said bluntly.
“Well, what kind of girl do you like?”
Alistair glanced at me, then smiled. “I like girls like Aurelia.”
The girl just stood there stunned, then shot me this dirty look and ran off.
My face turned bright red.
“Don’t… don’t say stuff like that!”
“Why not? It’s true.” He looked totally innocent. “I do like girls like you. What’s wrong with that?”
He was fifteen, saying it like it was the most obvious thing in the world–like commenting on the weather.
In high school, we got into the same prep school.
Those awkward teenage feelings made everything between us more complicated.
I started paying attention to how he looked at me, getting upset when he talked to other girls.
I’d secretly write his name in my diary, over and over again.
And he seemed to feel the same way.
He’d frown when I talked to other boys about homework, “accidentally” nail them with basketballs during gym class.
He’d quietly follow me home after school, making sure I got there safely.
Senior year, Christmas Eve, he confessed to me on the school rooftop.
“Aurelia, let’s be together.”
Snow was falling on his shoulders, and his eyes were gentle but determined.
In that moment, the whole world went quiet.
Just the sound of snowflakes falling, his quick breathing, and my heart going crazy.
“I’ve liked you for so long, I don’t even remember when it started.”
“Maybe when you were putting medicine on my cuts, maybe when you got all embarrassed and told me to stop talking nonsense, maybe even before
that…”
“Anyway, I want to be with you. I want to protect you forever.”
I nodded, my face burning red, tears streaming down without permission.
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Chapter 4
Then he pulled me into his arms.
His hug was so warm, with this faint mint smell from his detergent.
“Hey, don’t cry. This is supposed to be a good thing.”
He was trying to wipe my tears but fumbling around–nothing like the confident student everyone knew.
“I’m… I’m crying because I’m happy.”
“Well, don’t cry when you’re happy either. It breaks my heart.”
That was the happiest moment of my entire life.
Snow falling everywhere, the world all white and quiet, and me in his arms, feeling like I had everything.
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