The graduation gown made me feel like a wizard who had no idea how to cast a single spell.
It itched at the neck, clung weirdly to my arms, and rustled every time I moved like a plastic bag in the wind. I kept tugging at the sleeves, but nothing helped.
“I look like I’m about to summon a job at Burger King,” I muttered to Ezra.
“You look fine,” he said, fixing his cap. “And besides, today’s not about you.”
“Thanks,” I said dryly. “You always know how to pep talk me into the abyss.”
He smirked, nudging my shoulder. “Luca’s going up soon.”
I didn’t respond. Just stared ahead at the crowded stage, the rows of folding chairs, the massive crowd packed onto the football field like the school thought we’d all float away if they didn’t weigh us down with folding chairs and forced sentimentality. The sun was hot. My palms were sweaty. But none of that compared to what was about to happen.
Because Luca Reyes was valedictorian. Which meant one final speech. One final moment with the mic—and the whole school watching.
He stepped up to the podium, adjusted the mic, and cleared his throat. My stomach did a full gymnastics routine. He didn’t look nervous. If anything, he looked… solid. Focused. Like this wasn’t just a speech. It was something else.
“Hi,” he began. “Most of you know me as the guy who threw the final touchdown, or the guy who said ‘nah’ to a scholarship, or just the guy who kissed someone on the fifty-yard line.”
The crowd chuckled. Teachers raised eyebrows. A few students whooped.
“But before I was any of that,” Luca continued, “I was just a kid. A kid who thought hiding parts of myself made me stronger.”
I sat still, barely breathing.
“They told me to play safe. To play straight. That being brave meant winning at all costs. But what they didn’t tell me is that bravery has a price—and silence costs more.”
Someone coughed in the back. A breeze tugged at the flags hanging behind him.
“People said falling for my best friend would ruin everything,” Luca said, voice steadier than I’d ever heard it. “And they were right.”
The crowd went quiet. Like someone hit pause on the world again.
“It ruined the version of me that pretended I didn’t care,” he said. “That version’s gone now.”
My heart climbed into my throat as his gaze swept over the crowd—until it landed on me. And didn’t move.
“I care,” he said. Not soft. Not shy. Like he meant it loud.
Someone gasped. A teacher dropped her clipboard. I blinked so hard I forgot how eyes worked.
I just stared back, chest aching in the best possible way. Because that wasn’t just a speech.
Applause erupted slowly, then built like thunder. But Luca didn’t wait for it. He walked straight off the stage, cap slightly crooked, eyes still on mine. Students turned in their chairs to follow him with their gaze. Teachers whispered. My brain short-circuited.
By the time he reached me, the ceremony was still going, but I couldn’t care less. He stood in front of my row, hand out.
“Hey,” he said. “Can we skip the part where we pretend this isn’t the best day of our lives?”
I snorted. “I mean… we’re in gowns that feel like oven mitts and sweating in front of our entire class.”
“But we made it,” he said. “Together.”
I stood. Took his hand. “You really meant all that?”
“Every word.”
“So,” I said slowly, “you’re done pretending?”
“I’ve been done,” he replied. “Now I just get to prove it.”
We stayed like that—awkwardly holding hands in the middle of a graduation ceremony like no one else existed. Ezra gave me a thumbs-up from his seat, mouthing, Finally.
“I thought I was gonna throw up during your speech,” I told Luca. “Thanks for the mini heart attack.”
He grinned. “You’re welcome.”
I leaned in, whispering, “And you didn’t just fall for your best friend. You fell for the dramatic, overthinking, panic-texting version of him.”
“I know,” he said. “And I’d do it all over again.”
The principal called another name over the mic, and everyone clapped, but it felt distant. Background noise to something more real. More permanent.
Luca squeezed my fingers. “You still sure about college with me?”
“I’m pretty sure,” I said, stepping closer. “Especially now that I know you’ll be giving love speeches every semester.”
“I’m thinking of majoring in public declarations,” he teased.
“Minor in emotional chaos?”
“Obviously.”
We laughed. It wasn’t loud or wild or dramatic—it was quiet. The kind of laughter that came from relief. From knowing we’d survived everything high school threw at us and somehow came out stronger. Not just together, but seen.
As the last name was called and the class tossed their caps into the air, Luca leaned into me again, forehead brushing mine.
“Want to go be everything we couldn’t be before?”
“Lead the way,” I whispered.
And for the first time, we weren’t just friends—we were everything.