Chapter 1: The FaceTime Twist

When I was FaceTiming my boyfriend, his roommates suddenly started clamoring to see me.

Their voices crashed through the phone like a pack of over-caffeinated frat boys, everyone talking over each other and laughing way too loud. I could picture them all jammed into that messy dorm room—faces glowing blue from the laptop, Christmas lights tangled above the beds like a fire hazard waiting to happen.

I was trying to smile, acting polite, when suddenly my phone was yanked out of my hands.

A sticky palm flashed across the camera, and suddenly the world spun—my own face replaced by a blur of socks and laughter. For a second, I just froze, stuck in a half-grin, not sure if I should laugh or yell. The grip was so sudden I barely had time to blink. I caught a glimpse of the ceiling fan spinning overhead, then the camera swung wildly and all I saw was a jumble of sneakers and athletic socks.

A deep, teasing voice cut through the chaos:

"C’mon, dude! Let us meet your girl already—future sister-in-law and all!"

That set off another round of whoops and hollers, someone clapping, another guy banging a fist on the desk. Pure chaos, just the way college guys like it—a Friday night right before the pizza run.

The next second, I was staring straight at my ex-boyfriend. The one who left me gutted after a breakup I still tried not to think about.

My breath caught. My heart slammed against my ribs, hands going clammy as my mind scrambled for an escape. For a split second, I couldn’t believe it. My stomach twisted as recognition hit. I hadn’t let myself think about Derek Carter in months—not really—but there he was, live and in color, staring back at me through my own phone screen.

The smile on his face slid away. He hesitated, then tugged the corner of his mouth down and muttered:

"Damn."

As he bent down, the star-shaped pendant on the silver chain around his collarbone brushed past the camera.

The little silver charm flashed in the light, and suddenly I was back in junior year, hands shaking as I fumbled with that cheap necklace at the counter of the strip-mall jewelry store. That star used to mean something. Now, it felt like a punch to the gut.

I forgot how to breathe the moment I saw his face clearly.

Sweat slid down Derek Carter’s sharp jaw and disappeared into the open collar of his basketball jersey. He stared at the screen, dazed for a second, his pupils trembling.

He looked both exactly the same and impossibly older—hair a little damp, jersey clinging to his shoulders, that cocky slouch I’d never forget. Time had carved new edges into him, something wild and haunted in his eyes.

"...Damn."

His voice was lower, rougher than I remembered. It sucked all the air out of the room.

Suddenly the phone tumbled out of view. The screen went black, then popped back up—Sam Foster’s face filling the frame, looking annoyed:

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Sam’s face was steady and familiar, the kind of guy you’d trust with your Netflix password. His eyebrows were scrunched, lips pressed in a flat line. Behind him, Derek grumbled, still looking shell-shocked.

Derek paused, then sneered:

"Your taste really isn’t that great."

He tried for cool, but his voice wobbled, raw and unsteady underneath the sarcasm.

Sam, who was always gentle, actually lost it and shot back:

"My girlfriend’s awesome. Don’t talk crap."

His tone went ice-cold—the way he got when someone really crossed the line. He squared his shoulders, giving Derek a glare that could melt steel.

"Exactly! She’s so pretty. Way better than that English Lit girl. Derek, you need your eyes checked!"

Jamie piped up from the back, always ready with a goofy compliment. Someone lobbed a half-empty bag of Doritos at Jamie’s head, crumbs raining down on the futon. Another guy chimed in, and I heard the rustling of snack bags, sneakers squeaking on linoleum.

"If I could date a girl like her, I’d eat ramen for three years."

There was a beat—then the whole room exploded with laughter. Diego, never one to be outdone, hollered:

"Ten years! I’d do it for ten!"

I could picture them tossing empty ramen cups, shoving each other, riding the wave of their own ridiculous contest.

The laughter rolled on, but Derek went quiet, sinking onto the edge of his bed, rubbing the back of his neck like he wanted to disappear.

Sam picked up the phone again, voice warm and casual:

"Sorry, Nat. Ignore him—he’s just salty about losing at hoops. Or maybe he’s just always like that."

Sam’s apology was soft, with a smile that made my heart ache. He gave me that little half-grin that always made me feel safe.

A voice gritted from the background: "I won. Won by 20 points."

Derek’s pride flared, even while he sulked in the corner. He sounded defensive, like he needed to prove he was still the man.

Sam didn’t blink: "Then you must be having a brain cramp. Natalie, I’ll pick you up for dinner tonight."

He winked, keys jangling in the background—the promise of a warm summer night and greasy burgers at our favorite diner hanging in the air.

…

After hanging up, I flopped back on my bed. The rough cotton of my comforter scratched my arms as I stared at the ceiling, sunlight painting stripes across my face.

A breeze nudged the curtains, cicadas humming outside my window. My ceiling fan spun lazily, making the air shimmer with heat. The familiar creak of my old bed was the only thing keeping me grounded as my mind spun with memories.

It’s been three years since I last saw Derek Carter.

Three years—a lifetime and a blink. I never expected him to show up again, not like this, not when my life was finally starting to feel stable. My phone buzzed with notifications, but I let them go, letting my thoughts drift to a different version of myself.

I never expected he was still wearing the star necklace I gave him.

That little star—it felt like a relic from another universe. I tried to remember where mine had gone, but the memory was already gone, slipping away like water through my fingers.

It was such a cheap little thing. I remember the price—thirty bucks, and after the couple’s set discount, it was only fifteen. No clue where mine ended up.

Back then, we were just broke kids with huge dreams and empty wallets. I’d saved my babysitting money for weeks just to buy that necklace, thinking it would mean forever. Funny how forever works out.

He doesn’t seem to have changed much, but somehow, he’s changed a lot. The same face, but after growing up, he’s sharper—like a gemstone with new edges, the wildness in his eyes impossible to hide.

He looked harder, more real—less like the boy I’d made up in my head. There was a restlessness in him now, like life had hit him with a few too many hard lessons.

Suddenly, I thought of three years ago, right before the SATs.

The memory hit me—cramming for tests, the jittery tension in the halls, the smell of highlighters and burnt coffee. That spring, everything felt like it was about to change.

Derek was in his basketball jersey, standing under my apartment building, eyes red, begging me.

He looked so lost, gripping his gym bag like a lifeline. Streetlights flickered overhead, catching the sweat on his forehead and the pain in his eyes. Somewhere a TV played through an open window, the world going on like my life wasn’t falling apart.

"From now on, I’ll do whatever you say. If you don’t want me to talk to her, I’ll never see her again."

His voice cracked, desperate. He raked a shaky hand through his hair, searching my face for something I couldn’t give.

"We agreed to go to the same college—"

He sounded like he was clinging to a future already slipping away. The shadows under his eyes made him look older, tired in a way I’d never seen before.

"As long as we don’t break up, I’ll do anything you want, okay?"

He looked so wrecked, like he might actually drop to his knees and beg.

He shuffled, glancing at the cracked sidewalk. I felt a lump rise in my throat, but I was done pretending. The night air pressed down, thick and final.

Every word felt like a betrayal, but I couldn’t keep lying to him—or to myself. I just stared at him for a while, then said quietly:

"Derek, I changed my application."

My voice shook, but I forced myself to look him in the eye, even as tears blurred my vision.

"I’m not going to State anymore."

The silence stretched, heavy with everything we couldn’t say.