He’s still staring at me with open-mouthed awe.
“So, I talked to one of the judges. I showed her pictures of your work. And I explained everything that’s been going on, and when she heard how much you’ve been through and how amazing of an artist you are, she agreed that you needed to be in the program.” I rush through the last sentence because he looks like he’s going to say something, and I don’t want it to be a no.
“Claire.”
I hold up a hand. “Foster, I’m sorry, but I had to at least try. You deserve this, even if you don’t think you do.”
He shakes his head and smiles at the ground. “I can’t believe you did this.” He points to the letter. “I have an interview next week?”
I nod. “Just one interview, and then you’re in. And I have some pull, since they felt so guilty about the way the contest turned out.” I can’t help it, I’m totally beaming.
“How did you know I still wanted to be in the program? I thought I had you convinced that I was done with art.”
I laugh. There’s no way he could ever convince me he isn’t an artist, or that he could ever be done with art. “You’re an artist. We’re never really done with our art.”
“You really need to stop saving me.”
I roll my eyes. This must be how the knights in old fairy tales felt. Like they would save the princesses one hundred times over if they got the chance. Except this isn’t a fairy tale because neither of us is a knight in shining armor or a princess in distress. We take turns saving each other. And I’m looking forward to my turn being the princess because I’m freaking exhausted.
“I refuse to stop saving you,” I say. It’s supposed to be a joke, but the humor in my voice falls flat, and it comes out as a whisper. Almost everything worked out this summer, after all. And the parts that didn’t…maybe they weren’t meant to be in the first place. Maybe—
Foster interrupts my inner monologue by wrapping one arm around my waist. My skin burns through my clothing. I'm so starved for his touch I practically melt into him. He’s holding me so close that the saltwater from his hair falls onto my cheeks in small, persistent drops. I tilt my head to watch as he puts a hand to his hair to brush it back.
He catches my face with one palm and holds it in place while I blink up at him. I’m convinced my heartbeat is louder than all of the crashing waves combined. If I moved forward one centimeter, our lips would meet. But maybe that part of our relationship is over for good. Maybe it should be.
“I’m sorry for all the crap I put you through,” he mumbles against my hair.
I’m paralyzed by how close he is, and all I can do is shake my head. I want him to kiss me so badly I can already taste the memory of his mouth on mine. We stand inches apart as minutes tick by until I can’t stand it any longer.
His eyes meet mine as I dart forward and almost close the gap between us. Our first kiss, for the last time. Finally. Our lips crash together and a wave of happiness spreads through me. When I’m forced to come up for air, I lean my head against his chest and sigh. He plants a kiss on top of my hair, my cheeks, my forehead.
We walk with our hands clasped tightly. We stop every few minutes to press our lips together and giggle about nothing in particular. I pause and stand on my tiptoes to kiss him again.
“Don’t ever leave me again.” I don’t care that I’m being demanding. I just care that this is finally happening. After he left this summer, I never thought I’d be this happy again.
“Deal,” he says.
I pinch a strand of his hair and give it a gentle tug. We have more summers and more beaches ahead of us. I can feel it.
Acknowledgments
If I’m going to start at the beginning, I have to thank my mom for spending hours reading with me as a young child. Mom, you passed your love of words on to me, and I’ll always be incredibly grateful for that. Thank you to my dad for buying me books of poetry. You shared your love of learning with me, and that love sparked my desire to write.
To my husband, Mark, who has believed in me from day one when we were just a year out of college and two kids deep into parenthood. Thank you for buying me a computer after I woke up on a random weekday and announced it was time for me to start writing. Thank you for all the support and love and proofreading. Most importantly, thank you for all the chocolate.
Thank you to Brielle Porter, who read early chapters and gave great feedback. To the best CP ever, Jordan Green: Thank you for putting up with me! Your critiques constantly push me to be better.
Stuart White, for creating Write Mentor and for being an all-around inclusive cheerleader for writers everywhere: I’m so grateful. And to my mentor, Brandy Woods Snow, I learned so much about writing and storytelling from you. You helped make this book what it is today.
Thank you to Brookie Cowles at Literary Crush Publishing for seeing something in my words and for being an incredible support along the way. To Arielle Bailey, thank you for your amazing editing skills.
Thank you to my in-laws for the endless support and enthusiasm.
Lastly, I’m so grateful to every one of you who read this book. I hope Claire’s and Foster’s journeys spark your inner artist.
About the Author
Haleigh Wenger has been writing and reading her entire life. The first book to really break her heart was Little Women, which she remembers staying up all night to read in the fifth grade. From then, she was hooked on the rush of being so emotionally invested in a story she could not sleep. She was determined to create her own story that made readers feel big things. She graduated from Brigham Young University in 2009 with a degree in Communications. In her free time, she bakes and goes on walks with her family. She can most often be found with her head buried in a book, flour dusting her clothes, and at least one kid sitting on her lap.
Website: HaleighWenger.com
More books by Literary Crush Publishing
Seasonal Romance Anthologies:
Sleigh Ride
Kissing in the Rain
April Showers
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Young Adult Books:
The Cupid Crisis
Emmie and the Tudor King
The Art of Falling in Love
The Art of Falling in Love Page 22