The drive to Finn’s house passes too quickly, even sticking exactly to the speed limit. I need more time to think through what to say. How to tell him.

The roads are empty and quiet, no sign of any death or destruction. If the officers shared where exactly the accident took place, I missed it in my haze of disbelief.

Cars are parked haphazardly on both sides of the street. It takes me a little while to find a space to squeeze into. I lock the car and walk toward the house, shoving my hands in my pockets.

I’m dressed in leggings and a fleece. My hair is a mess and I’m not wearing any makeup. It’s stupid to be focused on my appearance right now, but I still regret changing out of my outfit from school earlier as I step inside and register the number of skimpy tops and short dresses.

It’s hot and sticky in here, the air filled with the scent of pot smoke and hormones. People bump and grind up against one another, laughing and spilling drinks. I push through the crowd, ignoring anyone who does a double take.

This plan was not thought through. I should have texted him first. What if I can’t find him? What if he’s high or drunk or with a girl?

I soldier on despite my misgivings. I make it to the kitchen and spot Holden immediately. He’s standing by the fridge, talking with Mark. He appears sober and there’s not a girl in sight. Relief and dread war within me as he glances up and spots me. Abandons Mark and walks right over.

“Hey! You’re here!”

He looks thrilled to see me. My heart swells in size as I live the beginning of a fantasy I’ve had since freshman year.

Then I remember why I’m here. The reminder twists in my chest like a jagged knife. I wish I could enjoy this moment. Wish I could smile back and wish I could not know his whole world is about to be upended.

“I need to talk to you. Can we go outside?”

Holden’s forehead creases with confusion. “Uh, yeah. Sure.” His eyes skate across my face, looking for clues or hints.

I head for a back door that looks like it leads outside, hearing his footsteps follow and ignoring everyone looking at us. I keep walking until I reach the railing of the back deck. I take a deep breath and spin around. Cold air shocks my lungs.

He’s right behind me, expression unsure as he shoves his hands into his pockets. Each exhale of air lingers in the air for a second before fading away.

I don’t want to be the one who has to tell him this. Selfishly, I don’t want him to associate this moment with me.

“You’re acting weird,” he states.