Part 2The Promise

That night, after two hours of my parents’ gentle consoling, they finally let me go to bed. Mom called the school and told them I was sick. I couldn't face going back to my dorm room.

Just as I was drifting off, my phone lit up on the nightstand.

A text from Liam.

Liam: I'm outside your house. Come down. We need to talk.

His words from earlier echoed in my head. My childhood best friend, the boy I’d built my world around, had just publicly gutted me for another girl.

I didn’t go down that night. But I didn't sleep, either.

I drifted in and out of a dream. A little boy with Liam’s face sat at a desk, carefully writing something with a crayon. He finished, hopped off the chair, and ran over to a little girl with my face who was crying.

"Don't cry, CeeCee," he said, using my childhood nickname. "You have to marry me when we grow up."

He pressed a waxy piece of paper into my hand, his own version of a marriage contract, his eyes bright and serious.

"I'll always protect you, CeeCee. Pinky promise."

The moon slipped out from behind a cloud, and the sudden light woke me. I wiped the dampness from the corner of my eye.