Seven Years for Nothing

The music stopped, but my heart kept racing.

"Dylan, can I talk to you for a second?" My voice barely carried over the post-concert chatter filling Ethan's garage.

Dylan Knight turned from packing his guitar, sweat still glistening on his forehead. God, he's beautiful. Even after three years of watching him play, my stomach still flipped when those dark eyes met mine.

"Sure, Savvy. What's up?"

Savvy. The nickname he'd given me at fifteen. Focus, Lena. It's now or never.

"It's my eighteenth birthday today."

"Yeah, happy birthday. Ethan mentioned you got into Pratt. Art school in New York, right?"

"Dylan, I need to tell you something. I've been in love with you since I was fifteen."

His expression shifted. Before he could respond, I rose on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his.

Please kiss me back.

But his lips remained still. When I pulled back, his eyes were wide, almost sad.

"Lena, you're Ethan's little sister. You're—"

"Eighteen," I interrupted. "I'm not a kid anymore."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Tell you what, Lena. If you still feel this way when you're twenty-two—when you've had time to live your life, experience college—then we'll talk. Really talk."

Twenty-two. Four years felt like forever, but his words lit a spark in my chest.

"You mean it?"

"I mean it. But don't wait around for me. Live your life."

I already know who I am. I'm the girl who loves you.

"Twenty-two," I whispered.

"Twenty-two," he confirmed.

Four years later...

My hands trembled as I smoothed the custom album cover I'd designed for Dylan's band. Today's the day. Twenty-second birthday. The promise that had sustained me through every lonely night at Pratt.

The Velvet Underground buzzed with pre-show energy. Through the partially open backstage door, I heard Dylan's voice.

"—can't keep doing this, man. She's going to show up tonight."

He remembers.

"Dude, just tell her you're not interested," Logan's voice carried through.

"It's not that simple. I made a stupid promise when she was eighteen."

"So we stick to the plan," a woman's voice interrupted. Smooth, confident. Vivienne Rhodes. "The engagement announcement goes live tomorrow. Pregnancy rumors by next week."

Engagement? My portfolio bag slipped from numb fingers.

"Vivienne, I don't know about the pregnancy thing," Dylan said.

"Dylan, darling, do you want to be free of your little stalker or not?"

Stalker. The word hit like a physical blow.

"She's not a stalker," Dylan protested weakly. "She's just... persistent."

"She's been obsessed with you for seven years. That's textbook stalking behavior." Tyler's voice. "The fake pregnancy will scare her off permanently."

"And if it doesn't?" Dylan asked.

"Then we make it real," Vivienne laughed. "I've always wanted children."

No. This can't be happening.

"She's going to be devastated," Dylan murmured.

"Better devastated than delusional," Logan said. "You led her on with that twenty-two bullshit."

Led me on. My chest felt hollow.

"The engagement photos are already scheduled," Vivienne continued. "By Monday, every gossip blog will be running the story."

"What if she doesn't buy it?"

"She will. Because she's a naive little girl living in a fantasy." Vivienne's confidence was absolute. "One look at me with a ring and she'll finally understand she never had a chance."

Never had a chance.

I pressed my hand to my mouth, stifling the sob. Four years. Four years of my life.

Instead of facing them, I ran.

The rain hit me like a slap as I burst through the back exit. Four years of waiting. Four years of believing.

"Lena!" Ethan's voice cut through the downpour.

I spun around to find my brother jogging toward me. "What are you doing out here?"

"You knew." The words came out flat. "About Dylan and Vivienne. About their plan."

His face crumpled. "Lena, I—"

"You knew, and you let me come here anyway." Rain mixed with tears on my cheeks. "You let me dress up like some pathetic fool."

"I tried to warn you yesterday—"

"I've spent four years waiting for a man who thinks I'm a stalker. Four years!"

"Lena, please—"

"I'm done." The words felt like surrender and relief. "I'm applying for the Florence exchange program tomorrow."

"Florence? You can't just—"

"Watch me." I turned away from him, from the club, from every stupid dream I'd built around Dylan Knight's empty promise.

Twenty-two. I'd made it to twenty-two, all right. Just in time to learn that some promises are just pretty lies wrapped in false hope.

Florence, I thought as I disappeared into the rain. Time to stop waiting and start living.