When Jess and I were juniors, he had been up driving really early one morning, heading out to surf. He’d stopped on a particularly narrow stretch of road to help a woman with a flat tire. Another driver rushing to work wasn’t paying attention and hit the rear end of the car where Keith was kneeling. He died instantly. It was very traumatic to Jess and her parents. It had been for most of our town; everyone knew and liked Keith.

I lean against the car lost in thought.

“Do you remember that zip line swing they had?” I ask, tracing the piping around my car door with my index finger. “I was terrified of that thing.” I feel a small smile lift the corners of my mouth as the memory plays in my mind. “One night, Jess and I had stayed up really late and she talked me into going on it.” I pause again, picturing their dark yard and can feel the grass, cold and wet against my bare feet, as we giggled and raced to the swing with the moon so large and full in the sky it seemed too close.

“I climbed all the way to the top and froze. Deer in the headlights froze. I couldn’t move! I was terrified to swing, I was terrified to get down, I was stuck. Jess was sure her parents would be mad at us because it was like two in the morning, so she went and got poor Keith out of bed. He climbed up on that tiny platform with me where I shook like a leaf and promised I’d be okay. Then he covered my hands with his so I wouldn’t lose my grip.

“I think he eventually had to give me a little shove.” I smile, shaking my head with a quiet laugh. “I remember I felt like I was flying.” I pause, recalling the energy that had consumed me that night. “Keith and I were laughing so hard. The three of us stayed up all night going on it over and over again.”

I’m not positive why I share this particular memory. Sometimes tragedy happens to someone so bright and wonderful that regardless of the kind and beautiful sentiments people tell you about them, or where they’ve gone, it’s still difficult to understand why they were taken too soon.

I glance over at Max; his eyes are soft and warm, confirming he understands my story without saying a word.

“You definitely aren’t every girl.” He studies me briefly before turning his attention back to my car while I try not to interpret his words in a manner that will make my heart further accelerate.

“Okay, try to start it.”

I climb in and turn the key. The engine instantly purrs to life.

“You did it!” I cheer with a bit too much enthusiasm. I swallow, commanding myself to tone it down. “Thanks, Max. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s nothing.”

“You spent your afternoon fixing my car when you were obviously heading somewhere.” I eye his dark washed jeans and fitted gray T-shirt as I lean against my car, leaving the door open to prevent myself from stepping any closer.

“It’s no big deal,” Max insists with a shrug. The slight movement causes another wave of his scent to wash over me.

“Yes, it is.” His eyes bore into mine for a moment before I blink and look over my shoulder.

“I’ll see you later, Max. And be careful on those rocks. They’re slippery,” I say, trying to ease the awkwardness that I’m not certain how I created, but feel.

Max purses his lips and smiles, then shakes his head as he walks back to his Jeep. I wait until he gets in before driving away.

Rather than going straight home, I take a detour and go see Jess. I don’t even think to call; my car just seems to navigate itself there. Thinking about Keith reminds me of how difficult it was for her to deal with his passing and has filled me with a sense of melancholy that’s directing me toward her.

Jess’s mom Cindy answers the door gifting me with a warm smile—Keith’s smile. I return it, suppressing the surge of sadness threatening to invade me as she grabs my shoulders and pulls me through the door and into a hug. Cindy is one of the warmest and most compassionate people I’ve ever met; Keith was so much like her.

“Jess, Ace is here!” Cindy calls over my head, still holding me securely. The lingering scent of cinnamon brings back the truckload of memories from the last fifteen years.

Jess appears from the family room with a grin on her face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I was just in the area and crossed my fingers,” I say, giving her a guilty smile.

“Don’t apologize! You’re welcome anytime.” Cindy gives me a final squeeze before making her way into the kitchen.

I spend the next couple of hours on the back porch with Jess, swaying on the swing that overlooks the zip line. Seeing that it’s still up makes my heart warm, although it’s obvious with a quick glance that it hasn’t been used in years.

For a moment I want to relive the story again with Jess, see if she can remember it as vividly as I do. I don’t, because despite the happy memory, death evokes depressed emotions for me, and I don’t want this to be a sad visit. The last few times I’ve been here the visits have been tear filled.

We discuss school for a while and how it differs from our expectations. Jess talks about New York and the chaos and excitement; all the while a look of longing is in her eyes making it evident that she loves it.

“So I hear you’re dating some college guy,” Jess says, surprising me as I lean forward to stand up.

“As opposed to a high school guy?” I joke.

“What’s he like? Max said it’s pretty serious.”

“Max?” I question, feeling my eyebrows rise in shock.

Jess nods, giving me a knowing look. “Yeah, when you went to find Kendall last week at Karli’s.”

I recall Max saying that Jess spoke highly of me and instantly want to ask what was said, but know that will be too obvious.

“His name’s Eric.” I shrug my shoulders without thinking as I try to push thoughts of Max out.

Jess throws her head back filling the air with laughter. Brown curls gleam like gold as they catch the fading rays of sunlight. “So obviously Max was wrong about it being serious. Does your mom hate him?”

“She never hates anyone I date; she just never likes them.”

“This isn’t like you. Once you realize you’re still dating the wrong person, you usually end things.”

“Still dating the wrong person?” I repeat with a laugh.

“I love you, Ace, but let’s face it, you always date the same type of guys. Guys that you know you don’t have feelings for. They’re not your type. I don’t quite understand why you want that type to be your type … I’m saying type a lot, aren’t I?”

I nod with a smile.

“So why are you holding on to this one?”

“I want to know what type of guy I keep dating that obviously isn’t my type, and what type I’m supposed to be looking for.”

“You date nice guys. Nice guys that just kind of go with the flow, and don’t rock the boat. Attractive, but kind of plain. They don’t question you, or push you, they just let you be.”

“Nice guys that are attractive and easy to get along with. What’s so wrong with that?”

“Nothing. If that was your type.”

“So what is my type?”

“You need someone with passion and fire, someone that’s going to push you and excite you. Maybe someone with tattoos?” She arches an eyebrow, insinuating something we both know I don’t want to hear.

“Oh, come on, I’ve known you since you were five! Maybe he didn’t notice but you were totally checking Max out!”

I let my head fall to the back of the swing and groan. “He’s hot. Obviously. But Max and I are very different. I mean he’s been with a lot of girls, and how many fights has he been in? I don’t think bad boy is my type.”

“Max isn’t a bad boy. He’s made some bad decisions, and he does sometimes use his fists rather than his words—”

“Sometimes?” I cry and we both laugh, knowing that Max has an extensive history of fighting.

“I think you should cross your fingers and try it,” she says, using the words I’d said upon entering the house. “Max is a really nice guy, and I see some similar qualities in you both.”