Free Lost in Love by Susane Colasanti Page A

focus on anything beyond my heartbreak was like trying to see the world from underwater, gazing up at images wobbling above the surface, but being too weak to break through to them. Drowning was so much easier. But now there’s no turning back to that dark underwater world. I will ignore boys for the foreseeable future. I will focus on taking care of myself and helping others. I will put more effort into planning for my future. I will make healthy lifestyle choices so I can feel good every day. These are the priorities that matter.
    Coming up for air is a powerful thing. Like pressing aninternal reset button. Or replacing all of your groggy old cells with glittery new ones. I feel better right down to the core of me. I can already feel my internal light shining brighter than ever.
    Sometimes to start feeling like yourself again, you just have to remember who you are.

ELEVEN
DARCY
    LOGAN TOLD ME TO MEET him at Pier 40. He wouldn’t tell me what for. As if showing up in New York to win me back wasn’t enough of a surprise, the boy wants to surprise me even more.
    I say bring it.
    Pier 40 turns out to be a big building in Hudson River Park. I thought it was going to be an actual pier with like seagulls and attractions and stuff. Not that I was expecting anything as dope as the Santa Monica Pier. There is only one Pacific Wheel. But I wasn’t expecting Pier 40 to be a . . . recreation center? No wonder Logan told me to dress down.
    Logan is doing his sexy sloucher thing near the entrance. He’s leaning against the wall, all tall and lanky with his dark hair falling across his face. I always loved that he wastall. I could wear my highest stilettos without towering over him. And those smoldering dark eyes. I used to get lost in those eyes for days.
    â€œHey, Gorgeous,” Logan drawls. He’s got the same megachill vibe as always. Same half smirk like you just did something risqué and he knows every last detail about it. Same magnetic aura that draws you in and won’t let go.
    Mental note: This boy tore your heart into a million bloody shreds. Proceed with caution.
    â€œSo what are we doing here?” I ask. “Playing baseball?”
    â€œThink bigger.”
    â€œBasketball?”
    â€œThink higher.”
    â€œVolleyball on trampolines?”
    Logan pushes off the wall. He takes my hand and walks me away from the building.
    â€œCheck it.” He points to the roof.
    Part of the roof is covered with clear netting. I can see dangling ropes through the nets. Like swings . . .
    A big smile breaks out on my face. “Trapeze?” I ask.
    â€œTime to catch some air, shorty.”
    â€œThis is just like—”
    â€œOur first date? Yeah. I remember.”
    Logan took me to a class at the Trapeze School on the Santa Monica Pier for our first date. We had dinner at a hella good taco truck after. This girl couldn’t have asked for a better first date. I was beyond impressed how Loganknew what I wanted even before he knew me. Almost like we were meant to be together. If you believe in that sort of thing.
    Our trapeze class is an open class with three other students. We’ll all take turns on the trapeze while everyone else watches from the AstroTurf green below. When it’s my turn to go, I climb the ladder up to the board we jump off. The instructor is a cute blond girl who tells me how to get into position for my first attempt. She stands behind me on the board after I’m strapped into my safety belt. I remember some things from the class we took before, like how I have to tilt my hips forward and bring the bar up to eye level. This bar is surprisingly heavy, just like the one in Santa Monica.
    â€œWhen I say ready , give me a little bend in the knees,” the instructor says from behind me. “When I say go , bunny-hop off the board and hang straight.”
    I have my faults. Being afraid to let go is not one of them. I’m swinging through the air,