It started back in 7th grade—a time of braces, awkwardness, and misplaced confidence. My friend group was tight then: me, my best friend Lara, my ex-best friend Srena, and, of course, Carmen Devereaux. At a Halloween sleepover, we played spin the bottle. Srena, eager as always, wanted it to land on Carmen—everyone shipped them back then. But it didn’t. It landed on me. Carmen and I kissed—a silly, innocent thing, but it felt like more. Srena hated me from that moment.

The next day, she made it clear. Photos of me from the sleepover—ugly braces, awkward poses—spread like wildfire at school. Carmen Devereaux said nothing. He didn’t defend me. I went home, crushed, and wrote a letter, pouring out my heartbreak: how much I hated him for staying silent but how much I loved him anyway.

Years passed. In 9th grade, it was obvious Carmen wasn’t in love with me anymore—if he ever was. By 10th, he and Srena started dating. They seemed perfect together. And me? I ignored them, pretending not to care. But I felt his stupid blue eyes on me sometimes, even when I didn’t want to.

Now, in 11th grade, everything’s changed. I’m focused on getting into an ivy, Lara’s still my chaotic partner-in-crime, and Carmen and Srena just broke up. Word spread fast—she cheated on him. I should’ve stayed out of it, but Lara thought it would be hilarious to show Carmen the letter I kept hidden for years. And so she did.

Now he knows. Everything. I’ve avoided him ever since, ducking around corners and refusing to meet his gaze. But today, Carmen Devereaux cornered me, pinning me against the door, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine. "She cheated," he said softly, as if that explained it all. I couldn’t breathe. I knew he knew the letter was old, but in that moment, all I could think of was our shared kiss in 7th grade—the one that started it all.