I’m sitting on a limb perfectly positioned to see into the wide windows of the Williams’ mansion.

Yes…to my everlasting shame, I spent many nights as a 14-year-old watching Gavin make out with his multitude of girlfriends. I dreamed of the day I’d be in his house and not this tree. I imagined it down to what I’d wear, what he’d say, then I’d make out with the back of my hand and finally descend into a fit of laughter.

But, 14 years later, I’m still in the tree. William is still laughing at me. And Gavin doesn’t know I exist.

William manages to lift himself onto the branch next to me. The limb which I previously thought of as sturdy and wide suddenly feels too small and precarious. I grab at the bark and dig my fingers in.

Will relaxes, loose limbed and comfortable in the tree. His eyes glint and he smirks as he looks down at my white-knuckled hand.

“Jessie.” He tilts his head in greeting.

A lock of sandy brown hair falls over his eyes and I watch as he brushes it aside.

“Will,” I say in a choked voice. Why does he have to look just like Gavin? It messes with my head. I can tell them apart from the way they stand, or talk, or heck, look at me. But I still feel a traitorous flip in my stomach around Will.

It’s been six weeks since Will was last in Romeo, but it’s been six years since Gavin’s been here. I wonder if his hair is shorter than Will’s? I wonder if when he sees me he’ll feel a spark?

Now that Erma has seen us together, I’m sure he will.

When Erma told me he was in town, I had to see for myself. I had to know. Hence, the childhood oak tree of shame.

Will leans over and reaches for me. I gasp as his hands brush my dress and he slowly lifts the binoculars strap over my head. I hold still because I’m scared of making any sudden moves. I lick my lips and he smirks. I wonder if he’s remembering the time we kissed in this tree? By the smirk, I’d guess yes.

The jerk.

“Those are mine,” I finally say, pointing to the binoculars.

Will lifts his eyebrow and shrugs. Then he looks through the binoculars. He fiddles with the focus and the magnification. As he does, my cheeks start to burn. I know what he’ll find. Finally, his shoulders stiffen and I know when he sees exactly what I was looking at.

Slowly he lowers the binoculars, then hands them back to me. They land hot and heavy in my palm. I turn away although I can feel Will studying my face.