The last time I came here, I was twenty-two years old and searching for an answer that never came.

It had been the night after my college graduation, a moment in my life when I should have been so sure about everything falling into place. Instead, I'd sat up in these high school bleachers, the dark and fireflies surrounding me, and cried. Nothing in my world had felt comfortable, I was lonely, afraid that I'd just been floating through the minutes and settling.

The time I'd come to our spot before that night, I'd been a twenty-year-old heartbroken girl, grieving her first love on the night that it seemed the entire universe shattered over my head.

I fold my hands, looking out over the Elm Hill High School football field. They'd sure fixed it up since Dean and I used to spend all of our time on these metal benches. New turf, an impressive scoreboard, an actual concrete building for the ticket and concession stand, instead of the shed they'd had back when we were students.

"It's funny, for some reason, I thought this place would look exactly the same. I guess that's what happens when you don't come home for seven years."

His voice comes at me through the darkness, and I should have predicted that we would both end up here tonight. Something about the air, the humid romance of it in late summer that drags up ghosts of the past and leaves you unable to sleep.

The warmth of him settles in beside me, and although he's still sitting about a foot away, memories of a time when we would sit here, wrapped up in each other, invade my memory.

"I'm leaving in the morning. I can't stay any longer, or they're really going to find me." Dean is looking at me, I can feel those aqua pools all over my skin, but I keep my gaze fixed on the field.

He's asking for an answer, and maybe I came here to find one again.

"This is my life, I can't just pick up and leave it." Even I notice the waver in my tone, the unsureness creeping up my throat.

"There is more out there for you than this. Then suburban New Jersey and living in your parent’s house forever. Don't think of this as something you're doing for me, giving up for me, although it's a big part. This could mean something bigger, a chance to take life by the balls. It's not the safe bet, and in all my years of knowing you, I would have never imagined that this safe existence would be where you ended up."

Those words sting a little, but maybe ... they're true. Did I mean to end up here? In my hometown, living with my parents, getting by on the right choices and safe bets?

"God, this air ..." I pull my tank top away from my neck, not realizing I said that out loud.

"Something about it, makes it feel as though the night is alive."

Dean's choice of words makes me finally look at him, and my heart lurches at his beautiful face. Looking at him gives me a stomach ache, the kind where nausea and butterflies mix. You know he can’t be good for you, but Goddamn it, you want to devour him anyway.

“Outside of public view, this is never happening. You should know that now.” I point between us.

“I didn’t expect it to.” His voice is quiet, clipped.

I didn’t expect that to hurt so much … but I don’t want it so why do my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“And I’m looking over any kind of contract I sign. I also am not putting on a ring just yet … I’m not saying yes, but I’m saying I’ll come to your world with you. Try it out, see if I can do this.”

Dean nods, the humid breeze passing over our skin. I wish it were brighter, I wish I could see the scrolls of ink covering his arms. Read what they say.

“That’s fair. Thank you … Kara, you don’t know—”

I cut him off, because I don’t need gratitude. “I know you didn’t rape her, Dean. I at least know that. I won’t pretend to know any of the shit you’ve done the past seven years, because I’m sure it’s not great, but I know you’re not a rapist.”

His jaw tics, but he nods again. “Do you remember the night we came out here on Fourth of July?”

My heart drops down to my toes, talk of the past making me run hot and cold. Of course, I remember that night. But I stay silent.

“That was the one moment I knew I held the whole world in my hands. Whatever I’ve become, however much money or fame I’ve amassed, I can point to that night as the singular greatest moment of my existence. You should know that. Still, after all of these years, you and me here, it will be the moment I picture as I take my last breath.”

Jesus. I exhale, not noticing I was holding my breath. The way he put things … his use of the English language was a lethal weapon against my heart. It was no wonder I could barely turn the dial of my radio in the past seven years, praying I wouldn’t hear that brusque croon through my speakers.

“I’m taking your proposal, Dean … you don’t have to sweet talk me. I’ll do this for you, and I have my own terms. And once this year is up, we’ll tastefully go our separate ways and never look back.”

“Deal.” He held out his hand, his fingers long and his palm callused from so many years playing the guitar. I took it, hating the way my insides turned into jelly as our skin came in contact, the goose bumps that rolled over my pores like sand on a deserted beach.

I’d almost convinced myself that it was going to be that easy.