Free The Night We Said Yes by Lauren Gibaldi Page A

had hanging on my walls, all of the notes Meg and I passed, and all of the memories I had wrapped up in my group of friends. He didn’t have any of that. He was layered with life experiences, but none of them were personal. “It’s sad your life is so temporary, you know? That you don’t have a chance to have any of that stuff.”
    “Yeah,” he said. “But, I don’t know, these things don’t make me depressed or anything. They’re kind of comforting,I guess.” With a quick shrug he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
    “What are some of the best things you’ve found?” I asked, intending to lighten the mood. I hoped I hadn’t made him feel uncomfortable.
    “Um, I pick up photos, mostly. Notes are pretty personal, but also interesting. Oh, I found wedding vows once.”
    “Really?”
    “Yeah. Kind of wondered why they’d be on the side of the road. It’s sad if you think about it.”
    “Definitely.” I wondered what type of person would throw away their wedding vows . . . and also what type of person would pick them up.
    “It’s pretty addictive. You’ll start noticing things now, too.”
    “I bet,” I said, pondering if him picking up other people’s found items was really his way of living other lives, since his was always in transition. I wanted to let him know that I wanted to make memories with him, even if they were just from one night. Memories that wouldn’t be tossed away and found by someone else searching for paper on the floor.
    So I reached out and held my wrist in front of his face. It was decorated with eight small, tightly knotted friendship bracelets, each of varying colors. It was something Meg and I did when we were kids, to remind ourselves we were friends. Then, last year, we brought it back on a whim. But instead of reminding us that we were friends—because, come on, wealready knew that—each bracelet was made with a different purpose in mind. “This is my weird habit. Whenever Meg and I have a big night, we make a bracelet to remember the moment. So, each one represents a different experience. It’s silly, but kind of our thing, I guess.”
    “Really?” he asked, taking my wrist in his hand. “That’s cool. What do all of these mean?”
    “It’s a secret,” I whispered with a smile, taking my wrist back.
    “I see.” He smiled. “Maybe one day I’ll make your wrist?”
    I’m not sure what came over me. Maybe it was the darkness of the night, maybe it was my newfound braveness, maybe it was the strength I got from knowing Meg was always with me in my bracelets, or maybe it was the warmth in his eyes. I reached down, grabbed his hand, and squeezed it. He jumped a little and looked me right in the eyes.
    “This night may be memorable enough for that,” I responded, and as I let go, he grabbed my hand and squeezed it back.
    We spent the rest of the walk not touching, but I was completely aware of the space between our hands.
    “I guess the party is officially over,” Matt said as we walked up toward the house we were at earlier. It was quiet, dark except for a few lights on downstairs. A lot of the cars were still there, but that was probably because most people ran away, like us.
    Matt had driven with Jake to the party, so they took one car, and I jumped in with Meg. We forced Matt to drive, since Jake had been drinking at the party for a while.
    Inside the car, I scrolled through Meg’s iPod just to give my hands something to do as I kept flashing back to the conversation about memories and to our touch. My hand still felt warm from where he grabbed it, as if the moment was imprinted on my skin.
    “You looked like you were getting friendly with Matt,” Meg said, starting the car.
    “He’s nice,” was all I could respond.
    “Uh-huh. And you, my dear, need nice right now.”
    “It won’t work. I mean, he moves around so often. I can’t date someone and know it’ll only be temporary.”
    “Why not? Did you think Nick would be forever?” When I first