I miss you most of all, my darling when autumn leaves start to fall.

The mixtape stopped once Eva Cassidy sang her last words. Unlike the theme of the song, it was mid-June here, and the temperature was extremely hot due to the typical California weather. When I got the tape out of my stereo, I grabbed a pen and tried to type For Abby in the best way I could write, but even the best effort wasn't enough to erase the edginess of it.

In a world where you can download music to your smartphones and make playlists for every mood, every season, everyone, I was a weird teen that preferred mixtapes over digital playlists. The latter was more convenient, for sure, but it could never transmit feelings like the former. Technology facilitates life in many ways, but art is supposed to be arduous. I'd rather listen to jazz than those emotionally damaging pop songs.

When my door pushed open without a knock, I tucked the tape into the first drawer of my desk with trembling hands. When I looked up to see my mother walk in, I wondered if she noticed the tape but her worried look spread the air of panic immediately.

"Abby called me." One single sentence was enough to change the mood. "She said she called you a couple of times, and you didn't pick up, so she'll be here in a few minutes."

"Oh."

Her frown sitting between her brows, she added, "What are you doing, George?"

"Nothing," I said, trying to look casual with the stereo. "I forgot to check my phone is all."

"She sounded worried," Mom said. "Anyway. Clean your room."

"Sure." She showed her disbelief in me with a scoff as she walked out of the door. "Mom," I added, "knock on the door next time." Once she shut the door, I formed a sigh of relief. She almost busted me in action.

First thing, I looked for my phone and finally found it under my pillow. I usually texted at night before dozing off. Thirty unanswered calls and 50 messages. The majority of them were from Abby and some from Roy. I skimmed through them and didn't bother to answer since Abby would be here soon. I'd better clean this mess before she arrived.

Another notification on-screen got my attention, though: Your Daily Horoscope. I didn't believe in that shit. Well, not really. But it was nice to check it once in a while and see what an app got to tell about your day. So, I read today's horoscope: Today is your chance. Take it or leave it.

See, this was a message you could tell anyone, and it would work. However, those options coincidentally summed up the puzzle in my mind. I suddenly remembered the tape I hid in my drawer. Abby was a careful person, and the last thing I wanted her to pay attention to was that tape. It was for the time I was ready. That mixtape was full of hopeful love songs, new beginnings, and well, my favorite songs. Songs that we listened to together, loved together, and songs that reminded me of her whenever I looked.

This is where I should tell you about Abigail Whittaker. We met at a park, our mothers used to say. She was chasing after the ducks, and well, I was chasing after her. Our friendship continued as it stemmed. She was still running, and I was the chaser. The difference was, back then it was a game, now, she didn't even know I actually liked her.

If I didn't man up and tell my feelings, she would be off to New York in fifteen days, and I'd remain here. I didn't want to think about college life without her. I didn't know how to live without Abby, she was the one that made me go to school every single day.

In a nutshell, I fell in love with my best friend. It didn't just happen overnight. It was always there, maybe I was in love from the beginning, but when you are a kid, you don't really think about love or sophisticated stuff. An urge tells you to pull her hair, and you do it, if she gets angry, you feel accomplished—for an unknown reason. As we grew up, the love within me started to bloom, and it was last year when I pinpointed my feelings. No other girl could make me feel like she did. It was like she played the tones of my heart.

Cleaning my room took like two seconds because I tucked the laundry on the floor into my wardrobe and made my bed with proficiency. My desktop was still a mess, but I didn't think she would mind that. When I looked around the room for the last check, my eyes paused on Route 66 poster above the desk. Take it or leave it. Would this really be my chance?

"Georgie."

I looked in the direction and found Abby leaning against the door. Fuck. How did she slip inside without a noise? "You scared the shit out of me," I replied. "And don't call me Georgie." She walked in with a grin, looked around as if she was here for the first time, and sat on my bed at the end of the room. Her sheer curiosity always colored me interested. Abby could notice things that others didn't; she made you feel important. It was in her nature.

Today she was wearing a blue dress above her knees; one of the straps resting on her arm. She was effortlessly beautiful with her slight tan. I hated that my bed was always her first choice to sit in because it did wake the closeted feelings within me. Our silent game ended when she pulled the strap up and looked at me with a grin. "I like calling you Georgie, Georgie. See? That rhymed."

"It's the same word, 'course it rhymed."

"You're a mood killer," she replied with a sigh. "Why didn't you answer my calls? You invited me over yesterday, and now you don't answer my calls—do you even care how I feel?"

"Was little Abby worried for me?"

"Rot in hell, Shaw."

"Harsh."

Abby set her bag on my bed and pushed my laptop aside to climb up to my desk. Now, as close as we could ever get, she was hanging her legs down and scanning an essay I wrote two months ago about global warming. I was entirely focused on her face, afraid of dropping my gaze down. "You made a typo here," she said, pointing at a word. "It should be its - possessive pronoun." Her comment dropped my gaze on the paper and then, I wasn't looking at her face anymore. Her butterfly necklace caught my attention, sitting right between her collarbones. "This essay is one of the worst things I've ever read, George," she sighed.

When I answered her, my eyes were still wandering around her collarbones. "Got me a B minus, though." Abby's breasts had grown over the years, obviously, but it looked like the perfect size. What size was it, indeed?

My curiosity died in my throat when she tore her gaze from the essay and looked down at me with an eye roll. "Roy is calling."

"He will stop." I didn't want any minute to waste on that dickhead when the girl of my dreams was next to me. However, she found my answer lame and picked up the phone herself. Abby hated Roy—well, Abby hated all of my friends. "Hi, Roy," she said with a cheerful tone. "Yeah, that's Abby. Yeah, he's here." Whatever Roy said, it seemed to annoy her because she handed the phone next with a broad tone: "He has something super important to tell."

A curse escaped my throat as I took the phone from her hand. "What?"

"Why don't you answer my calls, dude?" Abby was watching me confused, but I could see that she was suddenly interested in this super important thing.

"What? Are you worried about me too?" Suddenly, I realized I was angry because he disturbed me when I was with Abby. But there was no way I could reveal my crush on Abby to Roy, so I took a breath and asked: "What's so important?"

"Fuck, you really forgot, didn't you? Today's the day. Rachel's party. Bang bang bang."

I was about to attend Rachel's party tonight but it totally slipped my mind. Fuck. I was going to reply to him with a curse, but Abby's interest dove into the first drawer before I could form a coherent sentence. I grabbed her hand so fast with a warning glance, but she swatted my hand away with a humorous grin. I put Roy on silent, and said to Abby: "Rachel is throwing a party tonight."

A glottal hum raised from her throat. I'd known her enough to interpret this as her disapproval tone. She didn't like parties nor was Rachel her favorite person. However, it was the last get-together before everyone left for college.

"I don't think I'll make it," I still replied, because I didn't want to hang out with a bunch of drunk guys and girls making out everywhere. Abby was still going through my drawer, it was an easy bet for her to find the tape inside, and she did, taking it out and reading the front. She mouthed 'What's this?' and I mouthed 'Nothing.'

"Don't be a killjoy. Look, this might be your last chance to fuck Rachel. And we both know how eager she was to see you there. Come on, dude, I'll pick you up!" Rachel was the cover-up. I said I had a crush on her when my friends asked because I was too afraid, to tell the truth. Though we were best friends, we barely talked at school with Abby. We were from different cliques because she didn't want to be a part of mine. She found my friends lame. Well, they sometimes acted like assholes, right, but they were cool dudes and basketball united us. My short pause made him think I was still hesitant, so he said, "Bring Abby, too if you like." I could sense that he was being polite there because he wanted me to come.

"I'll ask her but I'm off if she's not coming." I was glad to see that her interest was back in me when she figured out we were talking about her.

"Give her to me, I'll handle it." And I did as I was told. "Roy," I said, "He wants to talk to you." When I handed her the phone, she was confused.

"What party?" I grabbed the tape from her, but she didn't let go. We were having a fight there, our hands resting on her lap as she talked to Roy. "Rachel hates me. Yes, she does. And I hate her, too. He can come by himself if he really wants." She suddenly sighed and looked at me. "Did you tell Roy that you're off if I'm not coming?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," she said on the phone. "I'm coming, so he's coming. Bye." Due to the loss of concentration, she won the fight and took the tape back. "You're crazy. I'm going to Rachel's party because of you. Why would you say that?"

"This is our last party together," I replied.

If she was touched by my words, she didn't show that. "I can throw you a party, just you and me."

"It's not the same." I held her hand and looked up at her face. She looked...amazing. Next, I was filled with a want to smoke. "You should come with me. If you don't like it, we leave, okay?" Then, I got up, grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the second drawer, and walked to the window to smoke.

I got the lighter from the hole below the windowpane I've hidden and lit one. It was nice to inhale it and blow the smoke out. My parents didn't know I smoked so I had to do it with my door closed and my window open. "Okay," she said, at last, coming after me and slanging an arm on my shoulder in a way that half of her front was pressed against my back. "You shouldn't smoke that shit."

"Not again, Abby."

"I just care about you, unlike those people you call friends."

I turned at her and looked into her eyes. "When will you stop insulting my friends?" Next, I blew out to her face and she coughed. When she kicked my leg, I was laughing. "Really though, they aren't that bad. Just hang around and you'll see."

"Roy is looking at me like I'm a meat, George. They are that bad. They don't have respect for women." She sighed. "You're not like them, but they change you. I'm afraid one day you will become one of them."

In her eyes, I saw genuine worry. I would do everything to stop the moment if it meant she looked at me like that. I threw the cigarette out in the middle and hugged her. "Nothing comes between us, Abby."

"I'm your best friend, and I want to stay like that forever."

I knew she said it with good behavior, but that stung. Staying friends with her was a curse, but if she wanted that from me, I'd gladly give it to her. "Sure." She pulled back to look at me, and she was too close that I could feel her fresh breath on my skin.

"What's that tape?"

"Nothing."

"It says for Abby."

"Because it's for you, smartie."

Nudging me, she took a step back and said, "Can I listen to it?"

"Not right now." She looked at me with her puppy look. "No." She groaned. "It's for your birthday."

"My birthday was three months ago, and you already bought me a gift." She took her earlier place on the desk.

"I got my stock ready for upcoming years."

"I hate you."

"I love you, babe," I replied back. She threw me a glance, but quickly changed the subject, asking when we would leave off for the party. However, my gaze locked on the Route 66 poster again and my brain came up with a brilliant idea like it was waiting for it all along.

"Let's drive Route 66 together."

"What?"

"Drive Route 66 together. In fifteen days."

"Are you for real?"

"Yup."

"Just you and me?"

"Who else, Abby?" I asked, rolling my eyes. She was asking all the unnecessary questions instead of saying yes.

"I don't know. Rachel, maybe. Or those girls you handed your number to yesterday."

"What girls? Those who asked for AP calc notes?"

"FYI, they aren't taking AP calculus." I frowned. "Do you really not know that?"

"The question is, how do you know that?"

"You're seriously the stupidest. Everyone's waiting in line to talk to you, George Shaw. You're a legend at River High and though you're now a graduate, girls won't leave your side."

"Everyone including you?" That was an important question.

"No." My face dropped and that made her laugh. "I'm the unfortunate one to see the real you. If everyone knew the things I did, you would be a loner."

"Why are you still here, then?" I asked, walking until we got a safe distance between us but still close. "Why didn't you leave me?" For a fleeting moment, her eyes dropped on my lips and back to my eyes. When our gazes touched, I felt the horror in her look, like she was as confused as me and she didn't know what to do about it. My heart filled with hope, and I thought I could use this hesitancy to my advantage if she accepted the road trip.

"Call it a habit," she said with a grin. When she smiled, the previous look was gone but it was going to haunt me for a while. "You're a bad habit I can't give up."

"So, are you in?"

"You know, I'm coming anywhere with you, George."

Fifteen days to make Abby Whittaker fall in love with me.

***

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