My room was much smaller than Sadie’s, but it was big enough for my full-size bed and a desk, and I had a decent closet. Luckily my parents had let me keep most of the stuff I couldn’t throw out, but didn’t need, at home with them.

I slid out of my gray hoodie and into a low-cut green shirt. Zach had always loved me in green. He told me it brought out the color of my eyes.

Where the hell had that come from? I’d stopped thinking about all things Zach the minute I picked myself up out of my depression and realized that his leaving caused me to lose focus and cost me a ticket to my dream school.

Though I suppose it worked out for the best. I did get to spend more time with Joe and Sadie. Poor Sadie was bribed into staying close to home by her parents, though if you ask me, an hour there and an hour back is a quarter tank of gas I wouldn’t want to waste. But with our sweet-ass apartment and a brand new car, she wasn’t complaining. Besides, she didn’t mind the hike. She really loved babysitting her little bro while her parents worked crazy hours.

I picked up my makeup bag, and my black eyeliner slipped out and fell to the floor. I bent down to pick it up, my eye catching the corner of a box under my bed.

I don’t know why I didn’t leave the stupid thing at my parents’ house. For whatever reason, it had made the move with me. I’d hidden the box under my bed and forgotten about it. Of course I would notice it now. I couldn’t resist the urge to torture myself with the past.

Call it pathetic, but I still had a box full of a million different Zach memories. I hadn’t looked at it since last summer when I finally accepted he’d never come back. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out.

It amazed me how all our memories fit in an Uggs boot box. Granted it was for the tall Uggs, but still. After everything we shared, everything we went through, it seemed insufficient.

I ran my hand over the pictures taped to the top, surrounded with glitter glue. One of me and Zach at the beach. I was on his back and both our mouths were open wide from laughing. The dog I drew on his hand earlier that day still visible, even after hours in the ocean.

In the left corner, there was a picture of us watching the sunset on the docks in our hometown. And then in the middle, out of the hundreds of pictures we ever took together, was my absolute favorite.

It was a close-up of our faces, because I insisted on taking the picture even though his arms were much longer than mine. I had cake batter smeared across my cheek, and he was completely covered in flour. His eyes were crossed and my tongue was sticking out. It was the most ridiculous thing. But it captured the true essence of us.

Natural and real and never once embarrassed, we embraced our fun and quirky sides and loved each other deeper than any romance novel could portray. It was foolish. But we didn’t think. We only felt. Once we were together, I never imagined a life without him. Which was why when it ended, my world cookie crumbled around me.

With a calming breath I took the top off the box, but it didn’t help. As soon as the lid sat beside me, I was faced with every memory I’d forced into the back of my mind. Every detail about our time together. Every smile we shared. And then the reason I spent a summer crying over him smacked into my chest with enough gusto to knock the wind out of me.

I willed the tears away, but it was too late. My head fell forward, and I bawled like a baby, muffling the noise in my hands. Grateful that Joe had the volume blaring on the television, I let the sobs overtake me for a moment, before gathering the strength I had built up when Zach left and shut the waterworks off.

I reached into the box and pushed aside the tons of movie tickets, layer by layer. Beneath them lay the stuffed bear he’d won me at the carnival. He’d wanted to win me the biggest prize they had, but after thirty bucks I walked away with a bear the size of an éclair. And not a normal éclair either—one of those mini ones that wouldn’t satisfy the smallest of sweets cravings. It slept next to me on my pillow every night till I stuffed it away in the box.

A bobber from the day we went fishing and didn’t catch a single one, even though the guy next to us caught fifteen. Zach insisted the man had superpowers. I told him he played too many video games.

Notes we passed back and forth between classes. I unfolded one. An entire piece of paper. And all it said:

I love you.

I used to write page-long notes, going on about class and whatever else I could think of. Sometimes he would write back in response, but other times he just wrote those three words. I’m sure there were twenty other folded pieces of paper in the box with the exact same three words scribbled in the middle.

And there at the bottom, the thing I knew I subconsciously looked for. I took the plastic bubble in my hand and popped off the top. Inside, it held what to anyone else would be a cheap keychain. To me, it was a declaration of love and promises.I rolled it between my fingers, the bright green gem of the frog’s eye shining up at me. It was like a mirror to our past, reflecting back the memories.

I’d spent the previous day baking. Zach sat with me. He didn’t utter a single word, just let me bake. He sampled every cookie I made. Even when he looked like he’d puke, he kept eating. He’d offer a nod of approval after each new batch, and every now and then squeeze my hand or kiss my head. But he never once said anything.

Words couldn’t bring my grandfather back, and he knew I didn’t want reassuring statements. Because they were meaningless.

My grandfather was my favorite person in the world. Happy and loving. Sweeter than the cannoli cream-filled cakes he loved so much. And one day he was there, laughing and alive, and then the next day he was gone.

Hours later, I finally dropped the measuring spoons. I heard the water turn on as soon as my foot hit the stairs on my way up to my room. I crawled into bed exhausted from crying, and as the tears started again, I fell into a deep sleep.

The way the sun shone through my window when I woke up, I could tell it was midday. I pressed my eyes closed and more tears slid down my cheeks.

I lied in my bed curled up in a ball. The tears soaked my pillow, and my nose was so clogged I could barely breathe. I didn’t care. My grandfather was dead. The man who would sit me on his lap and tell me stories, would never speak again. I’d never again feel his stubble on my cheek when I hugged him.

The tears filled my eyes, the pain consumed me. My parents tried to get me to leave my room, but there was no point. The only place I wanted to be was in bed.

Suddenly, my bed dipped down and warm arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. I turned, burying my head into Zach’s spice-cookie-scented chest. He kissed my forehead then brushed the damp hair off my face, making the pain a little more bearable.

“Why don’t you get dressed and come out with me?”

I shook my head and drew myself closer to him. I didn’t want to go anywhere. I didn’t want to see anyone. Except him. He was the only person I could face. The only person who wouldn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to.

His hand rested under my chin and gently raised it until my eyes met his. “Please?” he asked, pouting his lip in that puppy-dog way.

I didn’t need a mirror to know I had mascara streaked down my cheeks and red puffy eyes. “I look awful.”

He tucked my hair behind my ear and smiled. “We could put a bag over your head.”

And for the first time since the news shattered me into peanut brittle, a laugh slipped out.

His finger rested at the corner of my lip. “I missed your laugh.” His thumbs wiped the tears from my cheeks and he kissed my forehead. “Your grandfather wouldn’t want this.”

He was right. He always was.

“Come on. It’ll be good to get out.”

I nodded and he kissed my nose before I dragged myself from the comfort of his arms and to the bathroom to make myself look somewhat acceptable for public viewing.

“Babe, you almost ready?” Joe’s voice pulled me back to the present.

“In a minute,” I yelled through the door.

I put the key chain back in its bubble and dropped it in the box, trapping it and all the memories with it. I slid it under my bed and walked over to my dresser. Just like that day after my grandfather’s death, mascara was smeared across my cheeks. I rubbed my hands across, wiping it away.

I swiped some blush across my cheeks and smeared on my candy-apple lip gloss. The television echoed on the other side of the door and I could bet money Joe had fallen asleep.

Zach never fell asleep when waiting for me. And even though I was desperate to keep the memories locked away in my box, I couldn’t keep my mind from wandering back.

I emerged from the bathroom fresh-faced. Zach leaned against my headboard, legs crossed, hands behind his head. His eyes shot up, and he smiled.

“Much better. Though you always look beautiful.”

Only he could make me actually believe that line of bullshit.

“Where are we going?”

He stood and engulfed me in a classic Zach hug. “It’s a surprise.” He kissed my nose and took my hand, leading me back to civilization.

Two weeks earlier he had gotten his license, and he had his mom’s car waiting for us. He ran in front of me and opened the passenger door. I laughed at his chivalry, and he tickled my sides.