BooksBarbecue
Back The Companion Project
Chapters (89)
  1. Dedication
  2. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  3. ONE
  4. HENRY
  5. TWO
  6. EMMA
  7. THREE
  8. HENRY
  9. FOUR
  10. EMMA
  11. FIVE
  12. EMMA
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. HENRY
  16. EIGHT
  17. NINE
  18. TEN
  19. HENRY
  20. ELEVEN
  21. TWELVE
  22. EMMA
  23. THIRTEEN
  24. HENRY
  25. FOURTEEN
  26. HENRY
  27. FIFTEEN
  28. SIXTEEN
  29. EMMA
  30. SEVENTEEN
  31. HENRY
  32. EIGHTEEN
  33. HENRY
  34. NINETEEN
  35. HENRY
  36. TWENTY
  37. TWENTY-ONE
  38. EMMA
  39. TWENTY-TWO
  40. EMMA
  41. TWENTY-THREE
  42. HENRY
  43. TWENTY-FOUR
  44. EMMA
  45. TWENTY-FIVE
  46. EMMA
  47. TWENTY-SIX
  48. EMMA
  49. TWENTY-SEVEN
  50. HENRY
  51. TWENTY-EIGHT
  52. EMMA
  53. TWENTY-NINE
  54. HENRY
  55. THIRTY
  56. HENRY
  57. THIRTY-ONE
  58. HENRY
  59. THIRTY-TWO
  60. EMMA
  61. THIRTY-THREE
  62. HENRY
  63. THIRTY-FOUR
  64. EMMA
  65. THIRTY-FIVE
  66. EMMA
  67. THIRTY-SIX
  68. HENRY
  69. THIRTY-SEVEN
  70. EMMA
  71. THIRTY-EIGHT
  72. HENRY
  73. THIRTY-NINE
  74. HENRY
  75. FORTY
  76. EMMA
  77. FORTY-ONE
  78. HENRY
  79. FORTY-TWO
  80. FORTY-THREE
  81. EMMA
  82. FORTY-FOUR
  83. EMMA
  84. FORTY-FIVE
  85. HENRY
  86. EPILOGUE
  87. ALSO BY CHELSEA CURTO
  88. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  89. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“‘You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever.’” He pauses, his thumb swiping under his eyes. “‘I offer myself to you again, with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it. I have none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant.’”

“Persuasion,” I whisper. He nods, folding the paper and tucking it into the pocket of his jeans. He finally raises his chin to stare at me, eyes red. Bloodshot and remorseful.

Something inside me cracks.

“Emma.” He walks closer, carefully avoiding crunching any flowers, stopping inches away from me. “Do you remember when you asked me about my favorite color?”

“Yes…” I answer, confused by the shift in conversation after such gut-wrenching love letters.

“I told you the story was for a later day. What better time than the present? Green is the color you wore on our first day of high school. I remember the moment we had in the hallway so vividly, it’s like no time has passed. Your polo shirt, pink on the bottom, green on top, was a beacon to me. I was drawn to you in the most peculiar, head-scratching way. I noticed you the second you walked into the building, standing out from the crowd. When my eyes landed on you, the rest of the world ceased to exist. There was no noise. No movement. No people. It was only you and me. You stared right back, challenging me, and I thought my heart was going to explode out of my chest. My hands were clammy. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. I could only stare at you rapturously.” He blows out a breath of air, staring at the ceiling.

“It was only seconds, I’m sure, yet it seemed like time slowed to a standstill. You were all I could see. For years after, the green shirt was a constant, persistent reminder we would never be friends. I could have tried. I should have tried. Instead, I floated along each day in those damn halls pretending like you didn’t exist. Pretending like my heart didn’t flutter at the sight of you across the auditorium during pep rallies, because I was fucking terrified. Even the glimmer of your hair as you turned a corner and disappeared caused me pain.”

His face is anguished and I’ve stopped breathing. Stopped moving, hanging onto his every word.