Wendy

The late summer air was heavy with the bittersweet scent of blooming jasmine as Wendy and I sat in a motel room. We had grown up together, our high school years an endless string of Friday night football games, study sessions, and whispered dreams. But now, the horizon stretched wide, with colleges—and lives—pulling us in opposite directions. Tonight was different. We both knew it. The unspoken weight of what we were about to leave behind pressed against us, mingling with the thrill of what we were about to share. Wendy looked at me, her dark eyes shimmering with the vulnerability of someone standing on the edge of something unknown.