Curtis frowned. "Imogen, why are you making this into a thing? Gretchen just happened to pick the same mountain. You've wanted to go forever—stop being stubborn. Any later and we'll miss the clouds."
I let out a cold laugh, swung the backpack I'd stayed up all night packing back onto my shoulders, and turned away.
"I said I'm not going. I'm not going."
By the time I walked away, I'd already missed the way Curtis's face went dark.
Gretchen's photos blanketed my Instagram feed—every time I scrolled, another one appeared, like she was terrified I might look away for even a second.
One was two silhouettes watching the clouds together, pressed so close that Gretchen's head tilted toward Curtis's profile, lips almost grazing his cheek. The intimacy was deliberate and impossible to miss.
Her caption was loaded with smug little emojis:
Childhood sweethearts, together forever! @Curtis Harding
The comments were a parade of congratulations:
Finally together! It's about time! Couple goals, locked in forever!
Told you—no rebound fling can compete with a childhood sweetheart. Curtis Harding can turn all the heads he wants, but my girl Gretta's still got him on a leash.