Chapter 4

The first crack in my perfect little world appeared in my freshman year of high school. A boy in my history class, a sweet, lanky kid named Matt, started walking me to my locker. He' d make dumb jokes that made me laugh, and one day, he passed me a note.

Do you want to go to the movies on Friday? Check yes or no.

My heart did a funny little flip. No one had ever asked me out before. I had never even considered dating anyone besides David, though our relationship was still firmly in the "best friends" category. This was new, and a little exciting.

I was smiling down at the note when a shadow fell over me. I looked up to see David standing there, his face dark. He had just come from basketball practice, and his expression was stormy.

"What' s that?" he demanded, his eyes fixed on the folded paper in my hand.

"Nothing," I said quickly, trying to slip it into my pocket.

He was faster. He snatched the note from my hand and read it. His jaw tightened. He looked from the note to me, and then his eyes scanned the hallway until he saw Matt, who was watching us from a distance with a hopeful expression. David' s glare was so intense that Matt flinched and quickly looked away.

"You' re not going," David said, his voice low and firm.

"Why not? It' s just a movie," I said, flustered by his reaction.

"Because I said so." He grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly tight. "Sarah, we need to talk."

He pulled me into an empty classroom. His eyes were burning with an emotion I couldn' t quite name. It wasn' t just anger. It was something deeper, more possessive.

"He' s not right for you," David said.

"You don' t even know him!"

"I know his type. And you' re not going to date him. You' re not going to date anyone."

I stared at him, bewildered. "You can' t tell me what to do."

"Yes, I can." He stepped closer, his voice softening slightly. "Sarah, listen to me. High school guys are idiots. They' ll just mess with your head and hurt you. We need to focus on our grades, on getting into a good college. Together."

My teenage brain, fueled by a thousand romantic comedies, suddenly put the pieces together. He wasn't just being a protective friend. He was jealous. The realization sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated joy through me. He liked me. He liked me.

My face grew hot. He saw the change in my expression and pressed his advantage.

"Promise me," he said, his voice earnest. "No dating until college. We' ll make a pact. We' ll get into NYU, and then... then we can think about other things."

It was the most romantic thing I had ever heard. He was asking me to wait for him.

"Okay," I whispered, my heart thumping wildly. "I promise."

He smiled, a genuine, relieved smile that made my stomach do a backflip. "Good."

From that day on, something shifted. I wasn' t just his shadow anymore; I was his. I stuck to him like glue. I brought him water at his basketball games, I helped him with his homework (even when I had my own to do), and I waited for him outside the dingy internet cafes he and his friends would sneak off to, just to make sure he got home safely.

I turned down every single boy who asked me out, feeling a secret thrill each time. I was keeping my promise. I was being loyal.

My friends thought I was crazy. "He treats you like his personal assistant, not his girlfriend," my friend Chloe told me once.

I just smiled. They didn' t understand. They didn' t have a pact. They didn' t have a David.

I was investing everything I had into our shared future, convinced it was the greatest love story of all time. I was so blinded by the fantasy that I couldn't see the reality: it wasn't a pact. It was a set of rules designed to keep me all to himself.