Chapter Text
Chapter One : It Hits Different This Time
*
"The story starts when it was hot and it was summer
And, I had it all I had him right there where I wanted him"
-Taylor Swift, Better Than Revenge
*
The drive to Cousins was different this time – felt different. My mom drove, I sat next to her, and it was so quiet .
I stared out the passenger window, leaning my head on my hand. I watched as the familiar route passed us by, seemingly the same but feeling so different .
Different because Steven was driving his own car, with Taylor.
Different because my mom and I were still working to repair our relationship after the last few months– trying to keep it afloat, to understand each other, to connect with each other.
Different because Jeremiah was my boyfriend, and it had only been a couple of weeks but we were happy – blissfully happy.
Different because things with Conrad were awkward , and I wasn't sure how to act around him. We hadn't talked since he left the hotel.
Different because instead of packing for a whole summer, I'd only packed for a week. The car felt emptier.
But mostly – mostly – different because Susannah wasn't there, and we all felt the absence deeply, a sharp pain in the chest whenever we remembered. An ache that I wasn't sure would ever disappear, wasn't sure I even wanted it to. So, it was different – would always be different.
As we drove, and the smell of salty sea water, the sound of rushing waves, and the feel of the blinding sun all became stronger as we got closer, I tried to take solace in the fact that that , at least, hadn't changed. That was the same. And somehow, it made me feel safe, as though Susannah continued to hold us all together, refused to let everything change.
*
The car hadn't even come to a full stop yet, my mom's hands still on the wheel, her foot still pressing the break, when the front door opened and I saw Jeremiah appear. He, truly, bounded into the yard – his smile bright, his curls everywhere – and everything around me slowed. This, this, felt the same. Seeing him felt like taking the first breath of air after swimming laps, felt like the calm of the waves at sunrise, felt like the comfort of a hug you didn't realize you'd needed.
The car hadn't even come to a full stop yet before my seatbelt was off, my door was open, and I was flying across the grass to meet Jeremiah, ignoring my mom's exasperated cries of my name behind me as the car finally finally stopped.
We met with a crash, a hug, a spin. My arms around his neck, my face buried near his collarbone, a smile so large it physically hurt. His laughter echoed through my ears, my body, my heart .
He set me on the ground gently, put a hand on either side of my neck, met my eyes with a gaze I felt all the way to my toes, and whispered roughly, "Hi, Bells."
I stared back – couldn't look anywhere else if I had wanted to (I didn't) – and whispered "Hi," right before his lips met mine.
This, this felt the same. And I realized, more than the salty air, the crashing waves, and the blinding sun, this was the one thing I felt most sure wouldn't ever change.
*
I stared at the dresser in my room, holding a folded T-shirt in my hand. I stared, and stared, and stared. I felt stuck . I'd always unpacked when arriving. Hung my clothes, filled my dresser. But this was only a week. It hardly felt worth it. My breaths felt shallow – shaky – as I felt that familiar pain in my chest again.
A sudden knock on the frame of my open door pulled my attention. I expected to see Jere, who was helping us bring in our suitcases and chatting with my mom, but I was met with Conrad. Another ache hit me, one I couldn't explain, and I took a sharp breath in.
"Conrad – hi, how are you?" I asked, smiling softly.
"Hey, Belly," he replied quietly, "I'm good," he paused, clearing his throat, and then gestured to the dresser with a quick point. "I unpacked your stuff for you, when I put everything back in the house. I wasn't sure where everything went, but I wanted it to be unpacked when you came back."
I glanced at the dresser, then back to Conrad, not sure where to look. The T-shirt in my hand hung awkwardly now. "Thanks," I told him. "That was nice of you, you didn't have to do that."
He shrugged one shoulder, gazed around my room as though he wasn't sure where to look either.
"So," I started, raising my hands, T-shirt and all, aimlessly, "Did you, uh…" I trailed off, not sure how I wanted to finish my sentence.
Conrad ran a hand through his hair. "I just–"
"Hey Belly– when are…" Jeremiah's voice broke through as he rounded the corner into my room but stopped abruptly when he realized Conrad was here. He paused, his blue eyes looking back and forth between us and swallowed. "Um… uh," he shook his head as though clearing fog from his mind and continued, "Sorry, I didn't realize you guys were… talking." His eyes jumped between us again and then settled on me. "Find me when you're done?"
I nodded. The awkwardness in this room was palpable – overwhelming – and I was hit with the feeling of different. Jeremiah left, and I turned back towards Conrad. His jaw clenched. He chuckled humorlessly. Sometimes with Conrad you could see a switch flip, see him retreat into himself when he was feeling vulnerable, and I knew. Knew he was about to pick a fight, I could feel the air shift.
"You know Jere doesn't take relationships seriously, right?"
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, determined to be the more mature person here. So we're doing this, then , I thought. I wasn't sure how to respond and once again I felt different, different, different.
Then, Conrad continued. "Doesn't take anything seriously, really. Not sure he knows how."
"That's not fair," I snapped, "He takes plenty of things seriously. Maybe you just haven't been paying attention."
Conrad scoffed, audibly, and I suddenly felt like I was 12 and fighting with my friends.
"C'mon Belly. He's never been the serious one. And you know what else? At Thanksgiving last year he asked me to tell him next time you were going to be around so he didn't have to be there. He didn't even want to be around you, Belly. How serious can he be about this?"
I felt like cold water had been poured over my head – felt like I might be drowning in it, really. It hurt, that Jeremiah hadn't wanted me around. Had actively wanted to not be around me. I felt an ache in my chest.
"That's not really fair, Conrad. It was… different, then." It came out as a whisper and I willed tears back.
He shrugged. "You can do what you want, Belly. I don't care. It doesn't matter to me. I'm just saying you think you know each other so well, understand each other, but he didn't even know you didn't like Swedish Fish. I had to tell him."
I took a breath. Were we… talking about candy right now? I suddenly felt like I was back in that car leaving Brown. I'll be the mature one, I'll be the mature one I repeated in my head. But still, a laugh escaped. "You can't be for real right now, Conrad. It was candy. Candy. He knows about volleyball, and Finch, and. . ." I paused, waving my arms through the air erratically, T-shirt whipping around like I was waving a flag (but not a white one, because he wasn't winning this fight.) "And blueberry pie, and daisies, and everything else."
"And anyways," I added with a shrug, "Now he knows. About the candy. You told him, so now he knows that too."
I was suddenly angry – so angry – because I wasn't there for Jeremiah, because no one was there for him, and he was always there for everyone else. I was standing here defending him about candy , of all the things, but how long had it been since someone had truly been there for him .
They just thought he was always fine, wasn't serious . It made me feel claustrophobic, the realization that no one knew him like I did. I was done, with this conversation. I had Jeremiah to find. I tossed my T-shirt – why was I still holding this T-shirt? – onto the top of my dresser where it landed on a glass unicorn from Conrad, which felt poetic, somehow, and I turned, pushing past Conrad to leave the room.
"You told me you wanted sparks and fireworks, Belly, did you forget that?"
And I know – I know – I said I was going to be the mature one. But the anger in me for Jeremiah burned so brightly right now that I lost all rational thought at those words. I turned back to face Conrad, so quickly my hair whipped around and I had to push it out of my face.
My voice came out cold. "Yeah, I remember. And you saw Jere and I together at Brown. You know we have plenty of both."
And before I could see his reaction I spun around and left.
*
It was not, technically speaking, my finest moment. Definitely was not the mature thing to do. I stomped down the hallway, still channeling my inner 12 year old, one hand pressing into my forehead. I'd apologize later, probably. It wasn't untrue what I said, but it wasn't right to say it, either.
Right now though, right now I needed to find Jeremiah. I needed to make him my priority. My mind was still swimming with the realization that he hadn't wanted me at Thanksgiving, and what if we were more damaged than I'd realized.
I went straight to the pool. I knew he'd be out there, and I was right. I saw him sitting on the side, his legs in the water, his blue eyes bright as he leaned back on his hands and looked up at the sky.
I was still angry. Angry at Conrad. At myself. At the feeling of everything crumbling, changing, and moving, and especially at the fear of never getting it put back together right.
I plopped myself ungracefully next to Jeremiah, putting my feet in the water next to his and mirroring his stance. I looked at him, and he turned his head toward me and gave me a small, timid smile.
"Hi, Belly," he said, with a slight chuckle. Was he trying not to laugh at me? "You seem a little worked up," he finished, gesturing towards my body. He was definitely trying not to laugh at me, and I was suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of Jeremiah .
"I'm sorry," I blurted out, and he looked surprised for a second but recovered quickly.
"For what?"
"For. . ." I pointed to the house, in the general direction of my room, ". . . that."
Jeremiah's head shook, his curls bouncing. "Belly, you don't have to apologize for having a conversation with Conrad. You can talk to him. You can be his friend. I want you to be. If it were the other way around," he swallowed and paused, "if it were the other way around I'd hope like hell we could still be friends, so it's only fair."
I let out a breath of relief. He wasn't mad. I nodded. "Ugh," I groaned, and laid back flat on my back and stared at the clouds.
"It's just so awkward, and weird, and different. "
A minute later I felt Jeremiah look down towards me. "Aren't Taylor and Steven supposed to be here by now?"
I scoffed and rolled my eyes. "Yes, and Taylor is gonna hear about this. She's supposed to be my Conrad buffer, and she knows that. They left like, two minutes after us. I'm sure she made Steven stop so they could make out somewhere."
"Thanks so much for that visual, Bells."
"Hey, if I have to see it all the time then you have to deal with hearing about it."
Jeremiah laid back too, and looked over at me. I turned to meet his eyes. His eyes made me feel calm, safe. I could feel it washing over me as my anger finally dissipated. I took a deep breath.
"At Thanksgiving," I paused. I didnt want to talk about this, but I knew it was needed. "Did you tell Conrad you didn't want to be around me?" I tried to sound normal, but my voice betrayed me and I knew instantly that Jeremiah heard the hurt behind my question. He looked panicked, his eyes bouncing around my face.
"It wasn't– I didn't– Belly–"
I shook me head. "I'm not mad. I just – I didn't realize – he told me you had moved on, you know?"
"Conrad did?"
"I mean, I don't remember his exact words. What exactly he said. But– it was implied. I thought – that's why I agreed to date him."
Jeremiah ran a hand down his face and then shook his head, looking back up to the sky. "I wasn't over you, I never moved on, but I didn't want to be the reason no one was happy, either. I don't know, Belly, everything was so hard. And Thanksgiving – it was worse, seeing you together, than I thought it would be. I just felt so alone."
I grabbed his hand, linked our fingers on the ground between us. I saw him glance at our hands, then back to me.
"I'm sorry," I said, because what else could I say? "I'm so sorry."
He smiled softly at me. We were quiet for a few moments, and I closed my eyes. Jeremiah pulled my hand onto his chest and scooted closer until the sides of our bodies were touching. "We'll figure it out together, Belly." I hummed in agreement. Together .
"And, I know it's weird right now, but it was pretty cute watching how awkward you looked in there," Jere said with a laugh.
I let out a surprised, joking gasp and sat up, pulling my hand from his and placing it on my chest in faux indignation. "You did not just tease me about how awkward that was!"
His laugh boomed and he sat up with me. His hands went up in defense, but he continued to laugh. "Too soon?"
"Yes!"
"Okay, okay," his laughter finally died down and one of his hands ran through my hair and settled on the back of my neck. "I'll make it up to you."
He pulled my head towards his and our foreheads touched. "You better."
He leaned in to kiss me, but just as our noses touched, I used my free hand to shove him towards the pool. I realized my mistake instantly. Jeremiah knew me too well – probably knew I was going to try this even before I knew – and I felt his arm tighten around my waist.
In an instant we were nothing but tangled limbs under the water. A laugh burst out of me as I pushed my way to the surface and emerged from the water. I sent splashes of water at Jeremiah, which he returned. Before long we were splashing and dunking, pushing and pulling each other, laughter ringing out loudly. And then one of my hands found his shoulder while his found my waist. My other found his hair, his found my neck. And our mouths found each other, and it felt beautiful. It felt like magic.
*
We stumbled loudly into the house, giggling and dripping water, Jeremiah's arm around my shoulder. We ran straight into my mom.
"Belly," she admonished. "You're dripping all over the floor. You've heard of towels, right?" I could see her fighting a smile.
I held my hands up. "Sorry–"
"Laur, it was my fault. I'm so sorry, really," Jeremiah interrupted me, as he pulled away from me and began walking towards his bedroom. I smiled in his direction as he covered for me, knowing my mom wouldn't believe him for a second. It was sweet that he tried though. My mom always had a hard time being mad at Jeremiah.
My mom's resolve broke and she smiled lightly. "Mm-hmm," she hummed, clearly unconvinced. "You know, Jere, you don't always have to rescue Belly," she called to his back.
He shot a smile back towards us, and kept walking. "Nah, Laur, I'll always be here to save Belly." My smile grew with his words, my body warming to my toes, and I knew his words were true.
*
When we were little we used to have sleepovers during the summer, sometimes because the house was too full of people, but often just because we liked it. Steven would stay with Conrad, and I always stayed with Jeremiah. We'd stay up late watching movies, telling stories, sometimes talking so late that I swear the sun was about to come up. Jeremiah always fell asleep first – maybe because I never wanted these nights to end. After he would fall asleep I'd lay there – right next to Jere – and just listen to him breathe and let the sound lull me into my own dreams. I remember always feeling so comfortable and safe. These were truly some of my happiest summer memories.
At some point, we stopped. We'd have movie nights after our moms went to bed, we'd still talk and joke and laugh, but at the end of the night we'd go to our own rooms.
But one night, when I was 14, I woke up from a nightmare, gasping for breath and too scared to close my eyes again. I immediately got up and went into Jeremiah's room. He was sleeping on his back, and I walked over to his bed and slid under his blanket next to him.
It woke him up, the movement and my body next to his, cold next to his warmth. He turned his head and looked at me with only one eye open. In the dark I don't think he could even really see me. He still knew though– could sense it was me. I turned on my side, facing him.
"Belly?" He asked, groggily, confused. He pushed my hair behind my ear sleepily.
"I had a nightmare," I spoke in a whisper that was barely audible. Then, both his eyes were open as he scanned my face. I knew he could see me now.
"You wanna talk about it?"
"Not really. Just want to forget about it."
He nodded slightly and looked back up at the ceiling. We were silent for a few minutes, but I still didn't want to close my eyes. Suddenly, Jeremiah turned onto his side so we were face to face and smirked.
"Want to hear what I was dreaming about?"
His smirk gave me pause. "I'm honestly not sure."
He chuckled, loudly, his deep laugh echoing off the walls and pulling a smile out of me. He proceeded to tell me about a dream where he embarrassed himself at a party that had me laughing so hard I was clutching my stomach, my cheeks hurt from smiling too wide, and tears streamed down my face. By the end, I couldn't even remember what my nightmare had been about.
It wasn't until he had fallen back to sleep, and I started to drift off myself that I wondered if it was even a real dream, or if he had made it up just to make me laugh – just to save me from my nightmare.
*
When I returned to the kitchen, changed and my hair dry, Steven and Taylor had finally finally made their appearance.
"Well look who finally showed up," I teased.
Taylor shrugged. "Sorry. We stopped on the way."
"For?"
Another shrug. "Food?"
"Was that a question?"
My mom walked in at that moment and Jeremiah and Conrad followed, carrying boxes which they set down on the table.
"Okay, enough messing around, we have a 4th of July party to plan." My mom spoke, directing us into action. We gathered around the table and got started.
The dads were coming, which seemed like a great way to add to the awkward tension in this house. Aunt Julia and Skye were coming too. We'd invited some others, too. We spent time sorting through the decorations, planning and ordering food, and for awhile I could almost forget how weird it was without Susannah because this felt familiar, at least.
Hours later, we'd finished. The house was decorated, as close as we could manage to what Sisannah might've done. As we were finishing the last touches I noticed my mom placing a picture frame on the fireplace. I walked over to stand beside her. It was the picture we'd taken a few weeks ago. I smiled when I saw myself looking at Jeremiah.
"I think she'd love this picture," my mom started, and I could hear the sadness in her voice, now that I was listening.
I nodded. "Of course she would. Would be so excited about the party too." I smiled softly and laid my head on my mom's shoulder.
After a few minutes I lifted my head as Jeremiah headed our direction and said, "You know, it might be my favorite picture of them all."
I smiled lightly as I turned to walk away, lightly brushing my hand along Jeremiah's back as I passed him. "Defitinely my favorite," I whispered, loud enough for only him to hear.
I continued my way to the kitchen, turning back briefly just in time to catch his sharp intake of breath as he saw the picture for the first time. And then, he smiled.
*
Conrad found me later, asking to talk. I followed him outside. It was dark now and we sat near the pool.
"I'm sorry."
I looked at him in surprise. I wasn't expecting an apology. I nodded, but I didn't tell him it was okay – it wasn't.
He continued, "I shouldn't have said. . . any of that. It was wrong and unfair. I was upset. I'm working on it. I want things to be better, Belly."
"I'm sorry, too. Not for what I said, but how I said it. I want things to be better too."
He nodded, and I took a breath. "You should talk to Jere more, though. Maybe try to actually know him. Because, you don't really seem to anymore." There wasn't really anything else to say, so I stood up.
"I'll see you in morning, Conrad."
*
The party was good. Not great , but good. I do think Susannah would've been proud. There were no fights and plenty of fireworks. It was, possibly, the 4th of July that I wished we'd been able to give her last year. A regret I wasn't sure I'd ever truly get over.
We spent time together , as a group and it felt better. We smiled, we laughed, we grieved, but we did it all together. I thought my favorite part of the day was waking up to Jeremiah making a huge pancake breakfast because we'd missed my birthday this year, and that was unacceptable. But then he made the ending of the night just as good.
Because, at the end of the night, with Jeremiah's arm around my shoulder and mine around his waist as we watched the fireworks, I realized it was different , of course it was. But that was life, always changing, evolving. I turned to look at Jeremiah and realized he had already been looking down at me. Our eyes met and we smiled.
Yes, it was different now, but maybe different didn't always have to mean bad, just new. New chances, new choices and for the first time in a while, I was excited to see where they would take me. After all, I had Jeremiah, and that, at least, was everything .
*