There was a slight breeze, it made the leaves rustle and my hair flow in the air. The sun was beaming, casting it's rays just so, that it made the whole scenery look ethereal. There I was, standing at the edge of the cliff admiring the peak, the vast amount of trees, the oh-so-blue sky, when a sudden jerk made me lose my balance and before I could even register what had happened, I was falling and falling and falling. I could hear screaming. Someone was screaming my name, "Blair!" "NO!" "BLAIR!" "HELP! SOMEONE HELP!". And suddenly, my body slowed, like it was being guided, like it was floating on a cloud. I opened my eyes to see the most handsome face I had ever seen looking back down at me. The guy it belonged to smirked, "Hey, Duck-Face!". My eyes went wide. "Carson?!". Suddenly I saw red, I started struggling against his grip. "Easy there duckie, I'm only just helping you", he grinned. "HOW DARE YOU CALL ME THAT?!". "HOW DARE YOU SHOW UP AFTER ALL THESE AND... AND... SAVE ME?!" "WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT?!". He gaze locked onto mine he replied "You would rather I let you go?", "Well your wish is my command...". And then he DROPPED ME! I was plumetting towards the ground ready for impact, before he caught me, again.

He grabbed my wrist and gave it one hard, quick pull. My feet landed back on the stone of the cliff top before I could even register what was happening. Caught off balance, I stumbled forward--right into his arms. For a second, my face was buried in his shoulder, and I smelled his sweat and the cotton of his shirt. My heart was still pounding, so loud I could hear it. I took a deep breath and felt the beats start to slow down.

Then I snapped to my feet and pushed him back. What was he doing here? Why did he pick this moment to come back here and crash my life, so many years after leaving me alone? And... how had he known I was even going to be here? The questions ran through my mind, too many for me to force one through my twisting tongue. What I finally said was, "Where were you?"

Carson smirked. "I could ask you the same question. You've been off the grid in this park for two weeks. It's almost like you didn't want anyone to find you."

"You know what I mean!" I wasn't sure why my eyes were tearing up--a mixture of anger, heartbreak, all the many conflicting feelings this boy had given me. "You disappeared when we were sixteen! They found your car all slashed up by Bear Lake and the cops said you drowned! I knew that was bullshit because you were the best swimmer in school, but I didn't know what to believe after I heard you left your parents a note on the fridge. I grieved you, Carson! I thought grieving would be easier because I didn't know for sure you were dead, but that just made it harder! But I moved on and I got over you, and now you just show up like nothing's happened? What the actual hell?"

"Well," he said with a shrug, "clearly I'm not dead. And second of all, I wasn't the best swimmer in our school. Why do you think I always called you 'duckie,' Blair?"

God damn it. I'd had a crush on him for almost as long as I could remember. And listening to his familiar, casual, lively voice, all those emotions were at a serious risk of flooding back. I pushed the feelings away, deciding I would unpack them at some future time, and reminded myself I was still furious at him for disappearing without a trace.

"Why didn't you ever tell me you were alive?" I demanded. "Why did you wait until I was literally dying to show back up in my life?"

He paused deliberately, wind ruffling through his sandy hair as he searched for the right words. I wished I could read his expression, but the truth was, that sarcastic half-smile had always masked deep layers he refused to share with the world.

"I wanted to tell you," he finally said. "I didn't disappear by choice."

"Why? Were you hiding from something?" My fists clenched and unclenched. Maybe I was projecting on him. Maybe I, too, was trying to disappear, and maybe that was why I had packed up my things and taken a hiking trip in the mountains without telling anyone my destination.

Carson's face, ever so guarded, betrayed nothing. "Wouldn't you like to know," he laughed, sun glinting off the flecks in his eyes like chrome on a Cadillac.

"Go to hell," I told him. But even as I said it, I couldn't help but wonder if, when he said "I wanted to tell you," he meant "I wanted to tell you."