Every one of my muscles tensed as I caught a tiny flicker of light shining in the dark. A white cloud of smoke burst through the air above the patch of grass between our two houses. At first I wasn’t sure what I was seeing, until a tall figure, dressed all in black, emerged from the shadows.
My lungs ceased to function as the figure stepped into the glow of the streetlight and stopped dead. Leather biker jacket, black shirt, black drainpipe jeans, black suede boots … and long, bright-blond hair.
I stared and stared, a lump blocking my throat, as the boy with wide shoulders and impressive height lifted his hand and raked it through his long hair.
My heart skipped a beat. Because I knew that movement. I knew that strong jaw. I knew him. I knew him as well as I knew myself.
Rune.
It was my Rune.
A cloud of smoke blew from his mouth again, and it took me a few moments to realize what I was actually seeing.
Smoking.
Rune was smoking. Rune didn’t smoke; he would never have touched cigarettes. My mamaw had smoked her entire life and died too young from lung cancer. We had always promised each other we would never even try it.
It was clear that Rune had broken that promise.
As I watched him take another drag, and push back his hair for the third time in a few minutes, my stomach plummeted. Rune’s face tipped upward into the glow of the light as he exhaled a stream of smoke into the cool night breeze.
So here he was. Seventeen-year-old Rune Kristiansen, and he was more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. His crystal-blue eyes were as bright as they had always been. His once-boyish face was now rugged and completely breathtaking. I used to joke he was as handsome as a Norse god. As I studied every part of his face, I was certain his looks surpassed even them.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
Rune finished his cigarette and threw it to the ground, the light from the stub gradually fading to black in the short grass. I waited with bated breath to see what he would do next. Then his pappa came to the edge of the porch and said something to his son.
I watched Rune’s shoulders tense and his head snap in the direction of his pappa. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I heard clearly the raised voices, heard Rune responding aggressively to his pappa in his native Norwegian. His pappa dropped his head in defeat and headed back to the house, clearly hurt at something Rune had said. As Mr. Kristiansen walked away, Rune stuck his middle finger up at his retreating back, only dropping it when the front door of their house slammed shut.
I watched, rigid with shock. I watched as this boy—a boy I once knew so completely—became a stranger before my eyes. Disappointment and sadness washed over me as Rune began to pace across the yard between our two houses. His shoulders were stiff. I could almost feel the anger radiating off him even from this vantage point.
My worst fears had been realized: the boy I knew had gone.
Then I froze, stock still, as Rune stopped pacing and glanced at my bedroom window, directly below where I was standing. A gust of wind blew across the yard, lifting his long blond hair off his face and, in that second, I could see incredible pain, severe longing, in his eyes. The image of his strained face, as he stared at my window, hit me harder than a train. In that lost expression was my Rune.
This boy, I recognized.
Rune stepped toward my window, and for a moment, I thought he would try to climb through, the way that he did for all those years. But, abruptly, he stopped and his hands balled at his sides. His eyes closed and his teeth gritted together so tightly that I could see the tension in his jaw from where I stood.
Then, clearly changing his mind, Rune turned on his heel and pounded toward his house. I stayed at the office window, in the shadow. I couldn’t move with the shock of what I’d just witnessed.
Rune’s bedroom light turned on. I saw him walk around his room, then move to the window and sit on the wide ledge. He cracked it open. He lit another cigarette and blew the smoke through the open gap.
I shook my head in disbelief. Then someone entered the office, and my mama came to my side. When she peered out the window, I knew she’d realize what I was up to.
I felt my cheeks flame with heat at being caught. Finally, my mama spoke. “Adelis said that he’s no longer the boy we knew. She said he’s given them nothing but trouble since they went back to Oslo. Erik is lost and has no idea what to do. They’re real glad Erik got moved back here. They wanted Rune away from the bad crowd he fell in with in Norway.”
My gaze fell on Rune again. He threw the cigarette from the window, and rolled his head to lean against the glass. His eyes were focused on one thing and one thing only—my bedroom window.