Scotty laughed and then shook his head. “Not telling you anything until it’s finished.”

“Not even a hint? The chorus? A lyric?” I looked at him, my best puppy -dog eyes on display.

He turned his head to face me and kissed me with all the skill and passion a fifteen -year-old boy could muster. “It’s about the first girl I’ve ever loved. And how I hate the idea of another summer without her.”

My eyes instantly filled with tears as the rest of my body went numb. “You love me?”

We hadn’t said those words to each other, although God knew I’d loved him for half the summer already. As a young teenage girl, my heart was open and willing for him. It waited to be taken, to be claimed.

His fingers splayed across my hip, digging into my skin as he prepared to say the words I so nervously wanted him to. I knew I loved him, but I never wanted to say it first. What if he hadn’t loved me back? I couldn’t stand the humiliation. It would take everything in me to not pack my bags and beg my parents to take me back to the valley.

“I think I do,” he said. “You’ve made this summer perfect. You’re perfect.”

In that moment I had known I’d never find another boy quite like Scotty. His mom being sick had made him more vulnerable and sensitive. I had felt that every moment I spent with him, I was seeing a side of Scotty that no one else got to see.

“I think I love you too,” I said breathlessly.

But I didn’t “think” I loved him. I knew.

• • •

Interrupting my thoughts, Walker leaned his forehead against mine, dragging me back to the present. “I almost had a heart attack on that platform when I first saw you at the concert. I kept trying to convince myself that it wasn’t you. That it couldn’t be you. But deep down, I knew. And that headband, the way it sparkled above your head, drew my eyes to you. You looked so beautiful, like you stepped out of a fairy tale.”

I plopped down on the ground, feeling light-headed from squatting so long, and scooted closer to him. My eyes wanted to drown in him as my brain struggled to memorize every feature so that I’d never forget again. How could I have ever forgotten in the first place?

“Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to keep singing after I saw you?” He barked out a laugh and shook his head. “Holy shit, babe, I wanted to jump off that platform, take you in my arms, and run away. You know, give the tabloids something to really talk about!”

I laughed for the first time that day. It felt good to smile, even if my thoughts were racing at a breakneck pace.

“And after the show. When I realized you didn’t leave your number like I’d asked, I fucking lost it.”

“Lost it how?”

He shrugged and rolled his eyes. “I might have broken some things. No big deal.”

I looked away, suddenly embarrassed. “I thought you asked for every girl’s number. I mean, I just assumed you wanted to add me to your never-ending list of conquests. It pissed me off when you asked.”

Walker leaned forward and wiped the tears from my cheek, then cupped my face with his hand. “Only my girl would get pissed off when a celebrity asks for her number.”

My girl?

Lord, have mercy. I promise to hang on to this boy and never let him go if you let me have him. I don’t even need him wrapped up with a bow. I’ll take him just the way he is. Please.

“No number,” he went on. “And still no last name. But I was older this time and had more resources. There was no way I was letting you slip out of my life twice.” He leaned toward me, his lips meeting mine, and I melted into him, wanting to forget everything that ever existed before he sang his way back into my life.

Walker’s words and actions caused more tears to fall. I’d been so heartbroken after the summer ended and we eventually lost touch. No one had ever warned me that first loves could have such an impact on you. I wasn’t sure I’d ever fully recovered, although I’d definitely tried.

Sitting here now in the parking lot of this café, pain shot through my chest with each breath I took, a clear reminder that the scars left by those lost first loves never truly heal. At least, not without permanent damage.

His warm breath rustled my hair. “I’m sorry about losing touch.”

“I was just thinking about that. What happened? I tried your cell, but it was disconnected or no longer in service.” I remembered the robotic female voice on that recording as clear as day, taunting me as if she knew something I didn’t.

He picked up one of my hands and pressed it to his lips, then looked into my eyes. “I took my cell phone with me everywhere. I never wanted to miss a call from you because I never knew when one was coming. I even brought it to the beach when I surfed.” He glanced up at the sky, as if pulling memories from the clouds. “It got wet one day after I’d been in the water. Completely fried the thing. It wouldn’t even turn on.”

“And you never got a new one? You couldn’t call me from your house phone?” I asked, suddenly feeling fourteen again, recalling pacing the floor in front of our home phone while I willed it to ring.

“I didn’t have your phone number written down anywhere. It was only in my cell phone. And yes, I got a new one. Eventually. But my parents made me work around the house to earn the money to pay for it, so I didn’t get another phone for almost three months. But your number was gone forever by that time.”

“I left you voice mails,” I said softly. “So many voice mails. Until your phone stopped taking them.” The memories still felt fresh, my teenage self crying into the phone and asking him why he wasn’t calling me back. Thinking back, it seemed like I was nothing if not overdramatic. But I remembered being so truly heartbroken at the time, I’d convinced myself that I would never get over him. Eventually I had, but not before crying until the tears would no longer fall. Every emotion, especially love, was so amplified when you were a kid. Hell, I didn’t even know what love truly was at that age, but I thought I felt it for him.

“Those messages broke my damn heart, Madison. Especially when you never left your phone number in any of them. I heard them all back-to-back when I got my new phone turned on. It took everything in me to not smash the damn thing to pieces.”

“That would have been counterproductive,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“When I got to the last voice mail you left me, I knew in my heart that you’d given up.” He squeezed my hand.

I sighed. “I think I actually said that in my message, if I remember right.”

“You did. But I didn’t want it to be true. And you never called again.”

“Well, you stopped calling back. I just assumed the worst. You know, that you were sick of me calling you and that’s why you changed your number. Or that you found someone new. But it all went back to you being over me.”

His face pinched with pain. “I hate hearing that. You have no idea how much I hate hearing that right now. I tried to find you. I looked everywhere I could but there was no Facebook then. No social media like there is now to stalk people effectively.”

“There was MySpace,” I reminded him.

“But you didn’t have one.”

“You didn’t either.” I recalled a conversation we’d had on the beach one afternoon where we confessed that we weren’t obsessed with computers like our friends were.

He laughed and my face flushed. “Not that I would have had much luck trying to find Madison from the valley.”

I listened to the surf breaking nearby and felt numb, as if everything inside me had disappeared. I was certain my heart wasn’t beating, my lungs weren’t working, and whatever else in there was either broken or gone. This was all so surreal, I still couldn’t believe it was happening.