Betty’s POV
Dear Diary,
Sometimes I forget how small this town is.
Everywhere I look, there’s something familiar—a crack in the sidewalk I used to trip over, the tiny bookstore that still smells like old paper and dust, or the park with the rickety swings that squeak whenever someone moves. It’s like stepping into a time capsule, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel... still.
But with that stillness comes the guilt.
***
Brent and I have been spending the past few days exploring all our old spots. The river, the diner, even the worn-down arcade where we used to waste our allowance on claw machines that never worked. It’s been... nice.
Better than nice, actually.
Today, we swam in the river. Well, Brent swam. I mostly splashed around near the edge, feeling like a giant bobber in my swimsuit. He teased me about it, of course, because teasing is basically his love language.
“Come on, Bethany,” he said, standing waist-deep in the water and grinning like an idiot. “What’s the point of coming here if you’re not going to swim?”
“This is swimming,” I shot back, kicking my legs and sending a spray of water in his direction.
He dodged it easily, shaking his head. “No, that’s wading. There’s a difference.”
“Fine,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Show me how it’s done, Mr. Olympic Swimmer.”
That was a mistake.
The next thing I knew, he was lunging toward me, scooping me up like I weighed nothing, and dragging me out to the deeper part of the river.
“Brent!” I shrieked, clinging to his shoulders like a cat being thrown into a bathtub. “Put me down!”
“Not until you admit I’m right,” he said, laughing so hard he nearly dropped me.
“Fine! You’re right!”
“Say it like you mean it.”
“Brent, I swear to God—”
He let go, and I splashed into the water, coming up sputtering and glaring at him. He was already swimming away, laughing like he’d just won the lottery.
After the river, we walked to one of those tiny corner cafe that somehow manages to survive despite always being empty. We sat in a booth by the window, eating ice cream sundaes and talking about nothing in particular.
It felt easy, like slipping into an old pair of shoes you thought you’d outgrown.
But as much as I wanted to stay in this bubble, I couldn’t stop my thoughts from drifting back to the city. To Marcus.
I haven’t told Brent about the kiss before Marcus went to Summer camp. He doesn’t know about the way my heart still stutters every time Marcus looks at me like I’m the only person in the room.
And that’s the thing.
Being here with Brent, I feel peaceful. Safe. Like I could forget about all the chaos waiting for me back on campus.
But I can’t forget Marcus.
***
The day ended with us walking through town, the sky turning shades of orange and pink as the sun dipped below the horizon. Brent pointed out random things he remembered—a tree we carved our initials into, a crack in the sidewalk we used to jump over, a dog that used to bark at us every time we walked by.
“You ever think about what it would’ve been like if you never left?” he asked suddenly, his voice quiet.
I shrugged, looking down at the ground. “Sometimes. But I don’t know... I feel like I had to leave. Like staying here would’ve meant... settling.”
He nodded, but there was something in his expression that made me wonder if he felt differently.
By the time I got home, my legs ached, my hair smelled like river water, and my heart felt heavier than it had in weeks.
Sometimes I think this town is the answer to everything.
But then I remember that it’s not.