Roman made me promise to wait for him before I checked into my cabin, but he must’ve been running considerably late. I twirled my sleek hair between my fingers, wondering if anyone would notice that Aunt Joey paid to have it straightened as a surprise going away gift. The salon had cut several inches from my hair so it was just past my shoulders.
And I was wearing a bra.
It’s not like I was in a DD cup or anything—more like a generous A to be exact—but I felt mature and couldn’t wait for Roman to take notice. In the school picture he sent, he had looked exactly the same since summer. That was back in October, so I hadn't expected him to have changed in that short amount of time. But it seemed the guys in my grade were transforming from boys into men in subtle ways nearly every day, so I didn’t know how many changes to imagine after all those months apart, especially when he was a year older.
A sleek black sedan pulled up to the curb and somehow, I just knew. I took slow, nervous steps toward the car. When the back door opened and I saw the top of Brooke’s blonde head, my stomach dropped to the sidewalk. Roman had warned me ahead of time that they’d once again be sharing a car, but it made me ugly jealous when I remembered how much time she would’ve spent with him the last nine months since their fathers were close. Thankfully she didn’t see me when she headed to the trunk to meet the driver.
Then I saw Roman slipping from the car. My heart stopped before I kicked it into a full-on sprint. I landed awkwardly in his arms, pressed up against something hard.
“Belle!” he cried, gently pushing me back. “You’re going to crush my guitar!”
My face was on fire when I took a step back to look at the giant case I had crashed into. “You never told me you play guitar!”
“That’s because I just started taking lessons this spring.” He pulled me with one hand and hauled the guitar in his other over to the sidewalk. After setting the guitar in the grass, he lifted me off the ground, squeezing me tight. “That’s better!”
I think his chest was a bit broader, and he had grown at least an inch. He was wearing a strong men’s deodorant that tickled my nose. My Roman had changed, but I still felt the same when safely wrapped in his spindly arms.
In that moment I realized he would always be my Roman. I didn’t get to see him nine months out of the year, but even in those unbearably long months, he was still mine.
“Let me get a look at you, Belle,” he said, setting me back down on the sidewalk.
While he was checking me out, I did the same to him. His hair was a bit longer, his jaw was slightly more squared, and his Adam’s apple was more pronounced. Otherwise his face hadn’t changed. Well, except for the way his starry eyes seemed to take my slightly larger curves in with appreciation. An electric current ran through me from his gaze, making it clear things were different.
“I like the haircut,” he said, taking a chunk between his fingers and pulling lightly. “But you kind of look…girly.”
I made a face and set my hands on my hips. “What’s wrong with girly?”
One of his shoulders lifted. “Nothing, I guess.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were taking guitar lessons?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise. I get bored in the spring without any sports, so I thought I’d try something new. I’m not the best, but…” The smile he first gave me over the campfire the year before stretched across his lips, and joy spread through every inch of me. It felt like coming home. “Com’ere, you!”
He grabbed my shoulders and drew me closer. My heart jumped against my ribs when I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, he tucked me under his arm and ran his knuckles through my hair. It couldn’t have been any more the opposite of a kiss. I read him all wrong.
“Roman, stop!” I whined, trying to wiggle away from him. The brotherly gesture was a blow to my pride, and I was annoyed that he was messing with my hair.
“Roman!” someone called out behind us. “Dude!”
Then he released me to greet a few of his buddies with enthusiastic handshakes and hugs. I recognized all of them from the year before—especially the one who had once called me “trailer trash.” Roman completely ignored me as he caught up with his friends, like he literally forgot I was there. Feeling the burn of embarrassment, I quietly slipped away to grab my bag and headed up to my cabin.
Once I picked a bottom bunk in the corner, I changed into the camp uniform and washed the long car ride from my face. In the bottom of my bag, there was a small, narrow object wrapped in bright pink wrapping paper with an attached tag that read “Happy birthday Isabelle!”