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They were excited. Cara had been working on the scrapbook for months now, collecting old photographs and other things they had saved throughout the year. They were the type that hated throwing things away if they had any sentimental value, so they had plenty to choose from.
Cove was still holding the scrapbook to his chest protectively, eyes misty.
They placed a comforting hand on his arm, and nodded toward the book.
“Do you want to look through it? I know it’s late, and you have to go put your stuff away but—”
“I’d love to,” excitement flashed in his eyes.
Cara led him to the sofa, where they sat down beside each other, placing the scrapbook on the coffee table. Their knees brushed together, and Cara felt a jump in their chest.
It didn’t used to be this way for them. When they were younger, Cove and them had always been affectionate and comfortable around each other. They wouldn’t have thought twice about sitting so close.
They glanced over, his long hair falling past his face as he was immersed in studying the cover. Now it made their heart race when it hadn’t before, it made them ache just to look at him.
As if able to sense their eyes on him, Cove glanced over, eyes narrowed in question, “What?”
“Nothing,” they said a little too quickly, “Just happy that you’re here.”
He startled a little, a half-laugh escaping his lips as his cheeks pinkened, “Me too,” he added softly.
Cara flipped to the first page, hearing the crackling of long dried glue.
The first page was their favourite photo of them and Cove. It had been a trip to the beach with their families during a summer years ago. Ma had snapped a candid shot of the two of them with the ocean in the background. It was just a little out of focus, but you could see how happy they both looked in the setting sun.
They had framed it with a border they had cut out of colourful construction paper, and decorated around the page with little doodles.
Cove’s fingers ghosted across the photo, face breaking into an affectionate smile, “I love this photo.”
They laughed warmly, “I know, I do too.”
He flipped the page, and it became a collection of memories strewn about. Cara pointed each one out.
“That’s a drawing we did in Third Grade, we had to draw a memory of our summer, and I drew us catching fireflies.”
Cove laughed at the stick figure people and the yellow dots surrounding them. One of the stick fingers had a blob of pink around their arm, and two green strands for hair.
“You were an artist even back then,” he commented, finger tracing where the edge of the paper had curled up from age.
Cara tapped a bright pink rectangle, the letters starting to fade.
“This is a Valentine you gave me in Fifth Grade.”
“Do you remember making the little mailbox that we’d decorate?” he gestured with his hands, showing off the size of the box.
“The cut out hearts and flowers? They should’ve brought that back for High School, that would’ve been fun to do.”
Cove laughed, and looked the Valentine over.
“I remember, I gave it to you after school cause we weren’t in the same class that year,” he reminisced.
Cara hummed, “Oh yeah. When I brought it home, my moms immediately sent me with a card for you in return over to your house.”
“And with candy,” he added.
“That was all my idea. I got a bunch with my classmates cards, and I know you like it a lot more than me so—”
“I’ll take all of the sweets you don’t want for the rest of my life,” he promised, mock serious, before he was quiet, looking at the page with intent.
The rest of his life— they’d be lying if they hadn’t thought about spending the rest of their life with Cove. That wasn’t a new thought. Even years ago they couldn’t bear the thought of not being together, he had been their best friend for so many years.
The pages of the scrapbook were covered in little doodles, swirling lines, hearts, clouds, and flowers. They had wanted to fill up wherever there was empty space, and just had fun scribbling.
There was a photo of them at their Grade Six graduation, his arm around them, their height difference already really apparent.
“I think that’s the last year I grew,” they said, voice mixed with exasperation.
Cove looked them over, evaluating if they actually were upset by it. He nudged their arm, “I like your height. It suits you.”
“You just liked being taller than me, finally,” they tapped the photograph.
“Liked? I still do,” he grinned.
They nudged him back, ignoring the way butterflies lit up in their stomach.
They turned the page again, this time a letter was glued to the page, with a fancy cut out border they were particularly proud of.
“We had to learn how to write letters in Seventh Grade, so I wrote one to you,” they explained.
He looked at them in surprise, “And you never sent it?”
“I had to hand it in for a grade!” they protested, “But we got them back at the end of the year. I’m glad I kept it.”
He picked up the book to look at it closer, “Could you read it for me?”
“You just can’t decipher my handwriting,” they accused.
He laughed guiltily, and they took the book from him. They knew their handwriting was rough, and really hadn’t improved over the years.
“Look, I formatted your address all correctly and everything,” they pointed out, jokingly.
They had read it before putting in the book, but it was different saying it out loud in front of him.
“Dear Cove Holden,” they started.
“Full name?”
“It’s respectful.”
They cleared their throat, “How was your day? Mine was nice, but I miss you. I wish we were in the same class this year, but I’m happy we get to eat lunch together. Summer can’t come fast enough, even if the year just started. Everyday I’m so grateful that you moved in next door, I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you. I never had a best friend before, or even a lot of friends at all. Being with you has made me braver, and you mean the world to me. Anyway, hope to hear from you soon, and maybe we can go look for seashells together again.”
Taking a long breath in, they finished with a soft, “Sincerely, Cara Collins.”
There was silence between them both for a moment.
“That’s so sweet,” Cove said quietly when they were done.
He looked at them, eyes a little watery, “You’re my best friend too.”
“Really? I never would’ve guessed,” they grinned at him, but they were feeling more than a little emotional.
He shook his head, “No, I meant… I don’t know. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. It just makes me happy to know you felt the same way.”
“Was there ever any doubt?” they asked, amused.
“No,” he said, brows furrowed together, before reaffirming with another, “No, there wasn’t. But it’s still nice.”
They both reached to flip the page at the same time, their hands brushing together. They felt their skin heat as they pulled back, before they reached for him, taking his hand in theirs. Cove blinked, a little startled at the contact, but he didn’t pull away. A smile tugged at his lips that he was always terrible at hiding.
The next page was covered in stickers they had collected throughout the years, and some they had bought specially. An ocean themed one, with coral and shells, and a cute dolphin leaping above the waves. They had pressed them carefully, and doodled around them to create a whole ocean scene. In the middle of a page was a drawing of Cove they had done years ago. It pained them to look at how bad their past art was, but the sentiment was there, locked away in the drawing.
Cove brightened when he saw it, “I remember when you did this. You made me pose and everything.”
“Yeah, I had a time trying to get you to stay still for long enough,” their tone fond.
“It’s really good,” he praised, looking it over.
“You’re blinded by your love for me,” they jokingly scoffed, and then froze when they realized what they had said.
Cove also flushed a bit, and there was a silence that felt like it stretched a lifetime.
“Anyway,” they said hurriedly as soon as they came to their senses, “I—supposed it is pretty good. I’m proud of it for my experience level at the time.”
“You should be,” he told them, nudging their leg with his.
There was a trading card to a game they had spent one summer playing, several photographs of them together—some taken by parents, some photos that Cara took of him as they got older as they had a phone with a camera.
There was a pair of concert tickets taped to one page, along with several photos from that night.
“Oh wow , that concert was so cool,” he said excitedly.
It had been such a fun night, Mr Holden had got both of them tickets to a wildly popular band that was playing in a nearby city. They had gone on an overnight trip together with both families, as their moms had gotten Liz tickets as well.
He grinned at the photo of him, preserving a moment in time. They could hear the sound of the crowd, and the flashing lights, and the feeling of watching them come on stage. And what it was like being able to experience it all with him at their side.
“I had so much fun that night,” they reminisced, “I remember screaming the lyrics along with the music during the whole car ride home.”
He looked a little shy all of a sudden, and they tilted their head in question.
“I can admit this now, but I uh…” he laughed, “I wasn’t super into the band, like, I liked their music and everything, but I mostly listened so I could jam along with you. I asked my dad for tickets, and he was so surprised. I think he caught onto me when I asked if I could bring you with us.”
Cara laughed, a little taken aback, “That was so sweet of you.”
“Well, I know how much you loved them, and I was so happy seeing you so happy,” he shrugged, “I do like their music too.”
“Thank god, you better after I made you listen to so much of it,” they kidded, but a surge of affection rose in their chest.
There were more photographs of them together, mid laughter where the camera was shaky, giving each other bunny ears, always looking so happy.
Other things scattered throughout. A sticky note they had left on his locker years ago. An entry wristband to a festival they had attended together. A new drawing they had done recently, and the scrapbook also served as a look at their art improvement over the years. It was a replication of a photo they had taken of him, and they worked so hard on it.
Cove looked at it in amazement, they hadn’t shown him until now.
“This is amazing,” he mouthed passionately, before beaming at them, “You’re an incredible artist. Thank you for this.”
They ducked their head, feeling a little shy under his praise, but happy.
They flipped the page, and there was a carefully pressed and preserved white poppy from the hill, and a leaf from the Redwood trees they had saved from their trip there with him.
Cove’s breath caught, tracing the dried petals with a finger delicately.
“I wanted this to be a book of memories for you to always have of us. So many of my best memories are with you, and I wanted to preserve them and show you…” they swallowed.
Show you how much I love you . They desperately wanted to say, but they couldn’t get the words out.
“Show you how much you mean to me, and how much I care about you,” their voice softened.
“Cara,” they loved the way he said their name.
He reached over, and enveloped them in an embrace, his fingers twitching against their side. They buried their face in the crook of his neck, feeling the fabric of his shirt beneath their fingertips.
“Thank you,” he whispered in their ear.
They took a shaky breath as they pulled apart, heart pounding in their ears.
He took their hand, eyebrows pitched together, struggling to find the words.
“I’m so lucky to have you. You said in that letter how grateful you were that I moved in next door, but I can’t even begin to describe how thankful I am that I moved in next to you. I really can’t imagine not having you in my life.”
They squeezed his hand, both of them tearing up. Cara laughed softly, wiping away their tears.
This space between them felt infinite, the inability to tell him exactly what they felt, that burning feeling in their chest hurt. They wanted to throw themself into his arms and kiss him wildly. Or even just pull him close and his forehead. Just something to show him how much they adored him.
They turned back to the scrapbook, turning to the last page they decorated. They had made a frame, and put a photo that was taken at their high school graduation, of them together in their gowns, beaming at the camera.
It hadn’t been taken too long ago, a couple weeks. They sat in a comfortable silence together, looking at exactly how much they had grown.
Cove flipped the next page, which was blank. His brow furrowed in a moment of confusion, flipping through the next couple which were blank as well.
“So you have room to add more memories,” they explained, “Cause we’re going to make plenty more. We have the rest of our lives.”
He spread his hand across the page, chuckling quietly, “And I just stopped crying.”
“It’s just that kind of day,” they told him.
“I know I said it already, but I can’t say it enough. Thank you, Cara. Words can’t express how much this means to me.”
They pressed against him, as he took the book and held it tightly to his chest.
“I…better go get my stuff and see my dad,” he said, a little reluctant to get off the couch, and then glanced at them, “Want to come with?”
“Always,” they grinned, leaping off the couch and offering him a hand up.
Their heart skipped a beat when he took it, and even when they let go, their hand prickled where he had touched them.
They followed him out the door.