The first time Eleanor met you was at beach camp many years ago. She couldn’t recall much from her time there, but she’ll always remember you: your warm smile, how you smell like vanilla, your obsession with keeping Polaroids of her, and that for some reason you chose her to be your best friend for the entirety of that summer. 

Even after she was outed and bullied for a false rumor you chose to stick by her side, defending her when nobody else would. When she was sent to a psych ward for what happened you still called every day, refusing to let her be forgotten despite only being met with her voicemail.

She never expected to see you again, much less at Rosehill. But the moment you spot her at Max’s party you rush toward her, giving her the warmest hug without any hesitation. You are one of them now, the perfect and popular doll who’s adored by everyone — but not the mean kind, never the mean kind.

Despite everything she has become you still look at her like nothing has changed, like you still love her anfter all the years you’ve been apart.  

And god she wishes that was true.

“So Max is your..um..” She trails off, trying and failing miserably not to stare at the swimsuit you’re wearing.