Why did I feel this way? It had been almost seven years, yet I felt like no time had passed. But so much had changed. I couldn’t reconcile these feelings. It was obvious that everything about our circumstances had changed drastically. As all the feelings I’d ever had for Luke rapidly resurfaced I was confused about how I should react. The old Luke and Lily would react with affection and be at ease with each other. I didn’t know how to be myself around him anymore. I remained tongue-tied, smiled at him lamely, and waited for him to say something.

“You have the same eyes as me,” Dylan said as Luke sat in the chair across from me, and Dylan sat on the edge of the fire pit between us. It was true, every time I looked at Dylan, it was so hard not to think of Luke. They had the same hair and body structure. Dylan would probably be tall like Luke. At six feet, two, Luke was a foot taller than me. I always used to wear heels so I could reach his mouth to kiss it whenever I chose. And I used to choose to do it often.

Why can’t I stop thinking like this?

Luke grinned at Dylan and said, “Chocolate-covered eyeballs.” That grin had always given me a swoony belly whoosh, and this time was no exception. My physical reaction to Luke was disconcerting, to say the least. It was freaking me the heck out, to say the most.

“That’s what Mommy always says.” Dylan laughed. “What else do we have the same? Do you like to read? I do. I’m reading Harry Potter with my Mom. I like to draw. Do you? Did you carve those bears up? Will you teach me how?”

Luke waited a beat before he answered, probably to see if Dylan was done talking. Sometimes it was hard to tell. “When I was a kid, your grandma used to babysit me after school, and your mom and I read Harry Potter together. I like to draw, and I made the bears. If it’s okay with your mom, I will teach you whatever you want to learn.” He looked at me uncertainly and smiled nervously.

“Awesome! My baby sister looked like Dobby, the house elf when she was first born. I want to make a baseball bat out of a tree. Then we can play baseball. We can get my uncles and your giant friend Liam and my cousins and play. Your yard is even huger than my grandma’s yard. It will be so fun.” He stood up and started swinging an imaginary bat. Luke chuckled.

“Dylan, Calla did not look like Dobby,” I insisted. This was a play argument that Dylan and I had often. I couldn’t remain quiet with Dylan looking at me with such joy.