Midnight Sun(29)

“Weird? No. Human? Yes,” I tell him. “And what do you mean, your best days are behind you? Your life is just starting. It can be whatever you decide to make it.”

He digs into the salted caramel and sighs. “I guess it’s just that this huge part of my life ended, you know? And it’s what everyone knew me for at school. All my friends were swim-team guys. I trained for it every day. It’s what made me who I am… or, I guess, who I was. And now I’m not that guy anymore, and I can’t figure out where or how I fit in.”

I can oddly relate to what he’s saying. What would my life be like if I wasn’t the girl with the rare and life-threatening disease? It would certainly be different, and I might not know where I belonged either. But I am the girl with the disease. Kind of like how Charlie’s now the guy with the injury. “Do you feel like people treat you differently since your accident?”

He nods. “I know you’d probably rather not hear any more about her, but take Zoe Carmichael, for example. Her party was the first night she’s even talked to me since I got hurt, and I’m sure that’s only because she saw me with you. Zoe’s the kind of girl who doesn’t like sharing her toys even if she’s already decided she doesn’t want to play with them anymore.”

“Seems like an accurate assessment,” I say. “So, like… you think she used you for your social standing or something like that? And then ditched you when you weren’t in the papers or breaking records every week anymore?”

“Yeah, something like that,” he replies with a nod. Then a weird look crosses his face. “Hey, how did you know I was in the paper and broke swimming records?”

You have to be more careful, I silently chide myself. You just almost outed yourself as his creepy lifelong stalker. “We valedictorians are known to have excellent research skills,” I tell him.

He grins at me. “So you googled me, huh?”

I shrug. “Mais oui. I have to know what I’m getting into, right?”

And then I plant my lips on his. They taste like sugar and cream and pure goodness. This kiss lasts much longer than the first one. I’ve never felt so buzzed on life.

When it finally ends, he says, “You know what tonight reminds me of? Sixteen Candles. Like that scene at the end, where Sam and Jake kiss over her birthday cake?”

I nod. He has no idea how perfect what he just said to me is. It’s my most favorite movie ever, and I’ve been wishing to get a kiss as special as that since the first time Morgan and I watched it. And now here comes Charlie, making all my dreams come true.

“I’ve always thought it would be cool to have something like that but in real life. And now I do,” he says, heading back in for another kiss.

So maybe I’m making some of his dreams come true, too.



Every night that week starts and ends in much the same way: I convince my dad to give me just one more night as a normal girl, and he reluctantly agrees. I jump in Charlie’s truck and off we go on another adventure. Bowling one night, window-shopping the next (because, of course, the stores are closed), to the late movie at the mall a few towns over from Purdue.

We talk, we laugh, we kiss. A lot. He drops me off, but not before asking me out for the next night. I always tell him I’m free only in the evening, a response he accepts, no questions asked. It’s an idyllic existence, one I never thought I’d get a chance to experience. I think this is how my parents must have felt when they first met: young, free, and incredibly happy.

Things are so perfect, I even start to delude myself that maybe I never have to tell Charlie. My dad, however, disagrees.

“This is the last time I’m going to say yes, Katie,” he tells me, his mouth set in a straight line as I’m leaning hard on my “please just let me be normal a little longer” speech. “After tonight, I am meeting this young man. I need to know him. And he needs to know about your XP.”

His words hit me with a thud. More than anything, I do not want the magic to end. And telling the guy I seriously think I might be falling in love with that things aren’t exactly what I’ve led him to believe they are will be the equivalent of pulling the curtain back and seeing that the great and powerful Oz is just some guy with a microphone and a Napoleon complex. Everything will change.

“Okay, Dad,” I say, wishing there was some other way and knowing there isn’t, not really. “Tomorrow, you meet Charlie and then I will tell him about my situation. Tonight I’m still a regular girl.”

My dad smiles at me, but the fine lines around his eyes are suddenly looking more pronounced and prolific. I don’t want to be the cause of his premature aging. But the heart wants what it wants. I couldn’t stop now if I tried.



Charlie and I head to the beach this time. It’s quiet and we’re the only ones around. Charlie gathers some sticks and leaves, puts them in a pile inside a circle of rocks someone else already made, and lights a little bonfire.

We’re sitting on a blanket. I’m snuggling into him, resting my head on his shoulder. He’s tracing lazy circles on my back. Everything about “us” just feels so right: The way we can talk about everything or nothing at all and it’s never awkward. The way our hands fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. How we never seem to get annoyed or sick of each other.