I WELCOMED THE weekend with open arms.

Getting space from campus made me feel like I could breathe properly again. My first week of university had felt like a blur of anxiety, uncertainty, and nausea. It was hard enough to navigate new courses, classmates, and teachers, but then there was the added threat of seeing both my ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend. The temptation of taking online courses and potentially moving far, far away was extremely difficult to resist. But I didn't want to isolate myself even more than I already had. One year had left a permanent stain.

Besides, Will didn't have a monopoly over the town—it was as much a part of me as it was of him, even more so.

And so, I decided to tough it out. I would put on a brave face for a few hours of the day, and then come home and allow myself to feel how I was truly feeling. The weekend was my saving grace, hoping if I did enough of the things I enjoyed, I could draw strength from them throughout the week that followed. I had a strong feeling this cycle would repeat itself, a continuous loop of stress and relief, until the school year ended in the spring. But I could survive.

I hoped, anyway.

Moody Beach was one of the places I'd missed the most while I was away. I'd gone to the ocean a handful of times in Japan, and seen the most beautiful sights—beaches at sunset, torii gates backed with multi-colored skies—but sometimes there truly was no place like home. I loved the down-to-earth feel of the rickety boardwalk, the long grass that swayed with the breeze, and the view of the lighthouse on the rocky outcrop of land a far distance away.

Murphy pranced along in front of me, his leash secured between my fingers, as my parents walked behind us, hand in hand. It was windy here, due to the proximity to the sea, and wisps of hair were pulled from my ponytail, blowing into my face. I pushed them out of the way, sticking my free hand into the pocket of my oversized cardigan as we strolled.

I'd always been a fast walker by nature, but ever since Dad injured his knee, Mom had slowed her pace to match with his. I liked to observe their little moments; it always made me feel lucky that I had a good example to look up to.

But it also made me miss having a person—someone to hold my hand, a shoulder to rest my head on, a companion to be there when I was having a rough day.

In short, it made me miss Will.

Even if it was unfair.

Swallowing, I turned my attention back to my dog, listening to the sound of his happy panting. He loved coming to the beach even more than I did. Seagulls landed on the shore where the water met the sand, lapping against it gently, and Murphy urged me in their direction, eager to chase them.

"Murphy," I warned, laughing a little.

He had a surprising amount of strength for such a small thing, and he yanked just hard enough for the leash to slip out of my hand, allowing him to bound along the shoreline, barking at the birds and causing them to scatter. In a short number of seconds, he'd traveled a fair distance, and I ran after him, calling his name, and overhearing my parents laugh at the spectacle.

I was fairly certain he wouldn't wander too far, and he always came back, but I still wanted to take some responsibility in case he ended up getting into mischief with strangers, or anything of that nature.

Unfortunately, he had a lot more energy than I did.

After an embarrassingly small amount of time, I was out of breath, stopping for a few seconds to shield my eyes from the sun, and keep an eye out for him on the long stretch of beach. It was a quieter evening, especially now that the tourist season was over, though there were still a handful of people milling about the sand. During the summer months, it seemed like the town was packed to its full capacity. Sometimes it was exciting to be surrounded by the flurry of activity, but it made me appreciate the peacefulness during the rest of the year all the more.

Murphy was beginning to become little more than a black dot on the horizon, the gulls swooping down and then flying upward again as if they were playing with him, and I assumed he was so distracted that he hadn't realized how much distance he'd crossed.

I picked up my pace again when I saw the silhouette of another figure crouching down toward the dog, hoping it would be a friendly stranger, and not someone who would scold me for not keeping a good enough hold of the leash.

As I grew closer, I realized it wasn't a stranger at all.

Will was kneeling in the sand, giving Murphy a belly rub, and I slowed down, my footsteps becoming timid and shaky, a flutter of nerves in my belly. He was donning his windbreaker from the soccer team, and his ever-familiar intentional bed-head hair, a light dusting of stubble on his chin.

"That's a good boy, Murph," he was saying affectionately, the leash firm within his grip, not having noticed me yet.

I swallowed as I came to a halt, a few paces away.

Will glanced up, clearing his throat and straightening out when he registered my presence. I hadn't spoken to him since our conversation in the hallway, but his eyes seemed softer, less guarded. The dog pawed at his legs, eager for more attention, and I felt a pang in my heart over how excited he was to see the boy.

"Um, hey," he said, then paused for a few beats. He passed over the leash, and I took it from him gingerly, our fingers brushing. "Thought you might need this."

"Thanks," I murmured, wrapping it around my wrist.

His eyes flickered to something over my shoulder. "Your parents are here," he observed quietly, looking slightly forlorn. He'd always been fond of them.

I glanced behind me. They were still a distance away, but I knew they would approach us soon, most likely out of curiosity. "Yeah. . ." I trailed off, wondering if he would make a break for it before they could get close.

"How are they doing?"

Looking at him in surprise, I felt my lips part. "Oh, um, they're okay. Doing good."

"I'm glad to hear that."

There was a part of me that wondered if this was his roundabout way of asking how I was, but before I could think about that too deeply, we were suddenly joined by another presence.

Sabrina appeared beside us, looking beautiful as ever, a quizzical look on her face and two ice cream cones in her hand. I felt my insides twist. She passed one off to Will, who instantly looked a lot more uncomfortable. "Hey, Vivienne," she greeted, her voice light, confusion coloring her tone. "Good to see you."

Will frowned. "You two know each other?"

Sabrina's eyebrows raised. "I was going to say the same thing."

"Sabrina helped me out with my car the other day," I explained hurriedly, meeting Will's eyes. I saw the hint of panic within them as he waited for me to explain the rest, realizing that he must not have given her the ex-girlfriend talk yet. "And Will and I know each other from. . . high school."

"Cute," she said sincerely, smiling. "I bet you could tell me some embarrassing stories about him."

Will looked relieved.

I looked away.

"Oh my God, is this your dog?" Sabrina gasped, as Murphy grabbed her attention, and I let out a quiet breath. She bent down to pet him, making sure to hold her ice cream out of reach, and laughing as he licked her fingers.

I forced a tiny smile onto my face. "This is Murphy," I said, voice subdued. "He likes meeting new people."

"He's the cutest thing I've ever seen," she gushed, beaming from ear to ear as she scratched him. "Hi, buddy!"

Glancing up at Will again, I saw him shifting his weight from foot to foot, the cone in his hand starting to melt, and drip down the sides. I thought again about his words to me in the hallway—something that had consumed my mind the past week more than I liked to admit. He'd gone out of his way to make it clear to me that his relationship with Sabrina was new. Was he trying to brag?

Or was he trying to say that he'd been waiting for me? And that if I'd come home when I said I was going to, there was a chance it would be us getting ice cream together on the beach, and Sabrina would be the stranger?

I couldn't allow myself to think like that. Hope was a dangerous thing.

When she stood up again, I noticed what she was wearing for the first time. A Cape Vincent Cougars hoodie with Will's jersey number. It was loose on her small frame, and I felt my breath catch, despite how much I tried to hide it. I didn't know why it was such a shock to me, I'd essentially already seen them kiss. But the sight of her wearing his sweater somehow felt more intimate.

Clearing my throat, I took a small step backward, unable to look at either of them, focusing on the grains of sand beneath my feet. Will seemed to pick up on the change in my demeanor, and I could see him place a light hand on Sabrina's back out of my periphery.

"We should get going," he murmured to her, as if sensing that I needed to be alone.

I met his eyes for a brief second, and he visibly swallowed, dropping his gaze.

"Right," said Sabrina, checking her phone. "I want to get good seats." She looked at me warmly. "We'll have to hang out properly sometime."

Smiling feebly, I nodded. "Sure."

They turned and walked back up the beach toward the parking lot, leaving me to stand alone on the shore, on the verge of crumbling again. Murphy sniffed at my legs curiously, seeming to wonder why I wasn't moving.

Moments later, I was joined by my parents, and Mom looked between me and Will and Sabrina's retreating figures.

"Was that Will?" she asked, frowning.

"Yeah," I said, turning to her. "I think I'm ready to go home."

My bedroom was beginning to feel like my fortress; the one place I didn't have to pretend.

Even when I was overseas, there was a part of me that was trying to be someone else, despite having no one from home to hold me accountable. It almost felt like I was wearing so many faces these days, I was starting to forget which one was real.

But here, in my bedroom, my pain was very real.

Somehow I managed to keep the tears at bay, even as I rifled through my closet, looking for something I shouldn't have even been thinking about. My fingers latched onto the familiar thick cotton material of my former favorite sweater. I pulled it out, holding it up as I took a delicate seat on my bed, taking in the details; the stain on the cuff of the right sleeve that never seemed to come out even after endless washes, the tiny hole just above the hem, the loose threads hanging from beneath the arms, the faded logo of the St. Mary Marauders on the front.

It was Will's.

He'd lent it to me years ago, and I acted like I kept forgetting to give it back, but we had both known I just wanted to keep it. I clutched it to my chest, though it didn't smell like him anymore. It had stopped smelling like him a long time ago.

Even so, I left it next to my pillow when I went to sleep that night, thinking of the past, and hoping that by the time I woke up, everything wouldn't hurt quite so much.

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