Chapter 1: Static Between Us

My childhood sweetheart has a hearing impairment.

Sometimes, when I’m at my absolute limit, everything inside me just snaps. I shout at him—calling him a nutcase, telling him to leave me alone, my fists clenched so tightly my nails dig into my palms. My voice trembles with frustration, my whole body tense, but Eli just looks away, refusing to even read my lips. He shuts me out, eyes unfocused, like I’m nothing more than static on a radio he’s already tuned out. Only when he’s completely worn out, lying next to me in the dark, does he finally take out his hearing aid, turns to me, and says, with a sigh, “Okay, I’m listening now. Say whatever’s on your mind.”

I bite his shoulder—hard enough that my teeth ache and the salty taste of his skin lingers on my tongue. My heart aches just as much. I murmur, voice thick, “You don’t even like me, so why’d you marry me?” My lips brush his skin, and I can feel the warmth and the slight tremble in his muscles beneath my teeth. Eli draws in a sharp breath, his body tensing under my bite, but he doesn’t pull away.

His eyes—usually so cool and distant, deep-set and impossible to read—go a little red at the corners, like someone holding back tears at a funeral, grief and frustration swirling just beneath the surface. “Who said I don’t like you?”

“But you... you never admit we’re together at school. Am I some kind of embarrassment to you?” I blurt out, my voice wavering. Inside, I can’t help but wonder if I’m just some secret he wishes he didn’t have to keep.

Eli Turner and I were promised to each other as kids, thanks to a deal between our families—a tradition everyone in Maple Heights seemed to know about. I always figured we’d never actually go through with it—Eli was always so distant, so far away even when he was standing right next to me. Even though we grew up together in this little Ohio suburb, it felt like we barely knew each other at all.

I remember the way the old folks would smile at us during backyard barbecues, flipping burgers and handing out corn on the cob, joking about how we were meant for each other. But Eli always kept his hands shoved deep in his pockets, eyes fixed on the horizon, like he was already plotting his escape. Even then, I wondered if he was just waiting for any excuse to run from all of it—from me.

Things only got more awkward in high school. That’s when a transfer student joined our class. He was cheerful and bright, with a buzz cut and sharp features—he was the kind of guy who lit up every room he walked into, so different from Eli’s brooding, keep-your-distance vibe.

Gabriel Ortiz had this way of lighting up the whole room, cracking jokes that made even the teachers crack a smile. He wore his varsity jacket with pride, the big Maple Heights Mustangs patch front and center, and never seemed to run out of wild stories about football games or homecoming. I was drawn to Gabriel’s energy, and we quickly became good friends, swapping playlists and trading stories about our favorite bands.

One day during gym, my throat was killing me, so I ducked into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, rubbing my neck the way my mom always suggested. I even popped a cough drop, hoping it’d help. After a minute, I noticed red marks blooming across my skin—red enough that, in the harsh fluorescent light, they looked exactly like hickeys. My stomach dropped.

I frowned at my reflection, worrying someone would mistake them for hickeys—classic high school embarrassment. I desperately hoped the marks would fade before anyone saw. But of course, that’s when fate decided to have a laugh at my expense.

As I left the bathroom, I nearly collided with Gabriel, who was just coming out of the men’s room. We grinned at each other, falling into step as we headed back toward the field together.

The late afternoon sun beat down, making the metal bleachers shimmer and filling the air with the scent of fresh-cut grass and sweat. The sound of a whistle echoed from the field, and teammates shouted back and forth. Eli’s face was stormy, eyes zeroed in on the red marks on my neck. Gabriel caught his look and nudged me, asking, “Hey, are you two, like, a thing or something?”

I shook my head, trying to play it cool. “No, we’re not.”

I wanted to explain that we grew up together, but Eli never seemed to like me—he always kept his distance. I was scared he’d get mad if I got involved with someone else, so I added, “We’re not close.”

Eli stared at my lips, his expression growing even colder. He crossed his arms over his chest, jaw set, and turned away slightly—shutting me out with more than just his eyes.

He looked like he was trying to burn a hole through me with his stare, the chill rolling off him like a cold front. Whatever. He never seemed to like me anyway—never once showed me a kind face, always kept me at arm’s length.

I don’t even get why Gabriel would think Eli and I were a couple. The way Eli looked at me was more like I was his nemesis than anything else, right?

Eli and I never talked at school. We were supposed to be childhood sweethearts, but hardly anyone knew—except my best friend, Brianna, who always sat next to me in homeroom. She’d had a crush on Eli since freshman year and wasn’t shy about it.

Brianna was the kind of friend who doodled hearts in her notebook margins, obsessed over her Spotify playlists, and always had her AirPods in. She’d nudge me in class, whispering, “Did you catch Eli totally staring at you today?” I’d roll my eyes, but deep down, her words stung every time.

As graduation crept closer, Brianna didn’t want to leave high school with any regrets, so she asked me to give Eli a love letter.

I took the letter, my heart twisted with jealousy and my palms sweaty. Because, if I was honest with myself, I had a secret too: I liked Eli. Maybe more than I wanted to admit.