Blue and white balloons framed the elegant center entrance of the brick colonial that belonged to the McKenna family. The oak tree at the center of the corner lot cast shade over most of the lawn, and the rope swing hanging from the thickest lower branch swayed gently in the breeze.

When was the last time Trip had sat there?

It was a silly, inconsequential question to ask myself, but that didn't stop it from crossing my mind while I trailed behind Kelsey and Gianna as we navigated the cars parked along the McKennas' long driveway. The breeze picked up, carrying music and jovial voices that indicated the so-called captains' cookout was well underway.

"God, I despise parallel parking," Gianna bemoaned, glancing back at her Mercedes station wagon, slotted between two cars parked along the upper edge of the lawn. "That was way too stressful."

"Girl, you totally nailed it," Kelsey said, slinging an arm over Gianna's shoulders as the three of us meandered up the driveway. "I haven't parallel parked since I got my license."

"Well, I haven't parallel parked ever," I chimed in with a forced smirk, desperate to distract myself in these final moments before I had to go into performance mode. Not only was I about to meet Trip's elusive parents, but I was also going to meet them in the presence of our teammeates and other parental figures who I figured would know my name.

Maybe the fact that there wasn't going to be a spotlight on me and me alone should've eased my nerves, but I seemed to be experiencing the opposite.

Were Trip's parents' busy schedules the only thing that had stood in the way of our meeting during the last three months? I assumed this would be slightly different if we were in college or attended a boarding school in a city where our parents didn't reside, but neither was the case.

We were all in Boston. We'd all been in Boston this whole damn time.

I'd met my ex-boyfriend Henry's parents after one of his home soccer games, and it was what I'd expected - nerve wracking at the start but ultimately perfectly civil and anticlimactic. They were nice, and I smiled as I shook their hands. Henry met Dad briefly and it was pretty much the same with Dad optimizing his cool academia persona.

But here I was, about to meet Trip's parents alongside everyone else in his life. Like I was just like everyone else in his life.

"You haven't started driver's ed?" Gianna's question snapped me out of my internal monologue and back into the real world, where I was discussing my inability to parallel park or drive, for that matter.

I shook my head. "I haven't had the time or willpower. But the plan is to enroll over the summer when I'll hopefully reacquaint myself with the concept of free time."

Free time was a generous description of my summer schedule. I would be working part-time and had at least three lacrosse showcases with my club lacrosse team Boston Elite, but I would make it work. I was even looking forward to practicing with Dad in his Jaguar. I knew he wouldn't be the kind of parent who would be outwardly nervous in the passenger seat - he was a Professor, and he knew how to teach.

"You and me both," Gianna replied as we adhered to a hand-made sign printed with don't be shy and a glittery blue arrow directing guests through the side gate. The delicate and curly script didn't belong to Trip.

Tony D was the first to notice our arrival in the spacious backyard donned with white-clothed tables and bounded over to us from a brood of lacrosse boys and their parents with a goofy grin spread across his tan features. Before I could question his enthusiasm or presence, his t-shirt conveyed the answer. He had a close-up photo of Grayson Kirby and Trip McKenna's faces printed on the white fabric.

''Literally, why?'' Kelsey questioned as Tony D arrived in front of us, looking at the faces on his shirt rather than at him.

''Why not?'' Tony D countered, puffing out his chest. ''You can say it's great, complimenting me won't kill you, Kelsey Jackman.''

Kelsey rolled her eyes and gestured to the guests. ''I thought this was supposed to be a lacrosse party.''

''It is, but I'm an exception,'' Tony D replied with a smirk. ''The McKennas' have a soft spot for me and Jameson. He would've come too, but he decided to hang back at Cannondale to help his girl prepare for the debate."

I smirked, imagining both Jameson and Win treating one of the stuffy study rooms in the library as a war room, with Macallan wondering if she was better off without their so-called help on how to charm the Cannondale student body. While I knew she appreciated their support, she didn't actually need it.

Even with the debate still two weeks away, Macallan had already started preparing without a two-man oversight committee. Between AP testing and our lacrosse schedule, she knew she needed to manage her time wisely and was doing just that.

Deciding that I had no interest in chatting with Tony D, I made an announcement. ''I'm going to go find Trip.''

''He was on the patio a few minutes ago looking at posters,'' Tony D said, and elaborated when prompted by my arched brow. ''The seniors' parents got crafty and put a bunch of old photos, awards and whatever on poster boards for all of the seniors. The boards are set up over there.''

''Okay,'' I nodded, unwilling to actually thank Tony D. As I backed away from the three of them, I sent my friends a smile. ''I'll catch up soon.''

Upon turning around completely, I wove through the sea of guests. Everyone from Cannondale's lacrosse teams were familiar faces, and I even recognised some of the parents from the boys' team as a result of attending a handful of their games.

It was a borderline shock that Tony D hadn't led me astray. Trip and Grayson stood side-by-side in front of an array of colorful poster boards covered in photographs and other memorabilia. As I approached the pair of them, I counted seven posters - one for each of the graduating senior players.

As if Grayson sensed my impending presence, his stormy eyes flicked my way and he acknowledged me with a subtle upward tilt of his head before returning his attention to Trip. ''I'm going to go get a status report on the vegan patties that my Mom bought from Whole Foods. I need to make sure Tony D doesn't accidentally eat them all.''

''Fair enough,'' Trip replied with a laugh before he finally turned and saw me. A grin touched his lips, and in the late afternoon light, there was a clearness to his brown eyes that made the flecks of gold more pronounced. "Chandler."

There was something about the way Trip said my name that softened all of the jaded edges of my heart. Like I was delicate without being fragile.

''Hi, sorry I'm late-ish,'' I said and stepped up to him to wrap my arms around his waist. He wore a navy Ralph Lauren polo shirt that I knew I hadn't seen before because I definitely would've remembered. I adored Trip in every shade of blue.

'You're not late-ish. Everyone else is just overly punctual." Trip pressed a kiss to my temple before taking my hand and interlacing his fingers with mine. "Dad's aggressively focused on the grill, so let's start with Mom. She's around here somewhere being a social butterfly."

I gave him a soft smile as I nodded and started scanning the yard for his mother. I'd never seen a photo of her, but I wanted to believe I could spot pieces of Trip in someone else. Someone like his mother.

"So, um, just some quick background that I should've mentioned," Trip said as we walked hand-in-hand. "Dad's a pilot, and Mom's a firefighter. I had a great time playing dress-up as a kid."

I looked up at him wide-eyed. "Trip, that's amazing. Wow."

"Yeah, they were always hot-shots on career day in middle school," he replied in a nonchalant tone that would've made me think he was unbothered, but the pink tint in his cheeks gave him away. "I mean, they still are hot-shots, but this typically isn't their crowd."

With his free hand, Trip vaguely gestured to his backyard. He didn't need to elaborate any further because I understood what he'd meant by typically isn't their crowd, but so would anyone familiar with New England stereotypes.

Sure, everyone present had ties to one of the most prestigious boarding schools in the country, but that wasn't outwardly visible - at least not in the way other things were. The material things.

On every other adult's wrist gleamed a Rolex or Cartier watch. The sun was shining, so pretty much everyone wore a spiffy pair of aviators or clubmasters. The footwear was all boat shoes and classy wedges from all the usual suspects that lined the shoe displays at Nordstrom. And while I would never claim to know much about cars in general, I knew enough to recognize that almost all of the vehicles parked in the driveway were those from luxury manufacturers.

The worst part was that I couldn't be more numb to it all. I was so unfazed by the material luxury populating my social circle that I hardly processed its presence.

But even just from Trip's causal gesture, I knew the same couldn't be said for him. And even though it was his party at his house and I was holding his hand, there was a voice in my head telling me that I was trespassing onto a part of his life that he didn't want to share. The only reason I was here was because his parents had organized a party.

"Mom," Trip called out, steering us off the left to where the grass met the patio and a cluster of elegant yet chic women stood. They were so clearly New England sports mothers, and the one with her sleek blonde hair held court. She had Trip's eyes.

Before I could seek Trip's confirmation, he slid a grin my way before calling out again, louder this time, "Kerry McKenna, there's someone here who I know you've been wanting to meet!"

Without any instruction, the other mothers gracefully cleared a path for Mrs. McKenna, whose clean-lines, simple pearl earrings, and thin eyebrows conveyed an envious degree of minimalist chic. It was like I was looking at a alternative version of Carolyn Bessette Kennedy.

I was about to extend a hand to her when she abruptly swept me into a hug that was soft and warm and Christ she smelled like cinnamon. The temptation to ease into her embrace was so strong that I stiffened on impulse, but that didn't seem to bother her. She had the slim and wiry build of an experienced marathon runner, but this was a mother's hug and she didn't seem overly eager to let go anytime soon.

I met Trip's smiling gaze from over his mother's shoulder with a wide-eyed look.

"Sorry," he mouthed, but looked entirely not sorry as I delicately returned his mother's hug.

My lungs strained when she finally released me, and I reminded myself to breathe before speaking. "Thank you for hosting, Mrs. McKenna. It's a lovely party."

"It is, isn't it?'' She sent Trip a devious yet exasperated grin. ''And maybe now that you've said it, Trip will believe it. He was so anxious about having people over and-"

"I wasn't anxious, I was apprehensive," Trip swiftly interrupted, moving to stand beside me with his hand on my waistline. "Those are two very different emotions."

Kerry's devious grin morphed into a smirk. It was Trip's smirk.

"He was so apprehensive about having people over, but I love to host and so did Finn when he was at Cannondale - maybe even a little too much. This one didn't inherit that, though."

Trip opened his mouth to respond, but the arrival of who I immediately clocked as

his father took precedence. He placed a hand on both of their shoulders.

''The Kirby's are treating these vegan patties like they're made of gold, and I can't grill while they're hovering," he said, speaking in a low conspiratory voice that drew a smile from both Mrs. McKenna and Trip.

"Are you recruiting us to divert their attention?" Trip asked.

"Precisely. This is an urgent matter," Mr. McKenna replied, and strolled away before I could so much as start to formulate an introduction.

"Oh," the word slipped from my mouth, and I felt my cheeks burn. While I wasn't expecting a grand acknowledgment, I never once considered that I would essentially be invisible.

Mrs. McKenna picked up on my distress, and graced me with a kind smile that I swore made her eyes twinkle. "William gets tunnel vision when it comes to cooking, and he's very...let's say... possessive over his grill."

"I'll be back, Chan. I promise," Trip said and gave his mother a pointed look as he took her by the hand. "If you don't stick with me, someone will drag you into another conversation about Cape Cod vacation homes."

Mrs. McKenna tilted her head back as she chuckled, her smile brilliantly white. "Oh, the absolute horror." Her eyes found mine again, and I instinctively stood up a little straighter. "Aren't I lucky to have him looking out for me? I don't know what I'll do when he's down in North Carolina. I'm worried he'll never want to come back to Boston."

I sent her what I hoped was a convincing smile. "You are."

With one last brilliant smile, Mrs. McKenna turned away with me as Trip led them over to the grill. As I watched them, it was hard not to hear Mrs. McKenna's words echoing through my mind: I'm worried he'll never want to come back to Boston.

She might as well have plucked that sentence directly out of my internal monologue.

Not wanting to spiral, I closed my eyes momentarily to gather myself before I turned around and found myself facing the array of poster boards. I didn't have the chance to admire them earlier, as tracking down Trip was my only priority.

Before I could really start to look at Trip's poster, I noticed that one of the photographs had fallen onto the patio. The photograph was in a transparent plastic sleeve, and I assumed it was to protect the original photo. I bent down to pick it up and smiled as I immediately identified the two people in the photograph as Trip and his brother, Finn. They shared the same brown curls and dusting of freckles on their noses, but Trip was missing his two front teeth. I personally thought that this made his smile even more endearing.

The most striking part of the photograph was that the brothers each held one side of a rally sign reading OBAMA, BIDEN '12. I felt my smile expand as my mind snapped back to a conversation that Trip and I had months ago in which he told me that he'd attended Obama's victory speech in 2012 when his family lived in Chicago. However, as I stood there smiling at the photo, I found myself wishing that Trip was next to me. I wanted to share this moment with him and hear more about his brother and childhood in Chicago.

I knew Trip was private and I knew from Mom that I would eventually need to work up the courage to convey to him that I was different - that we were different. If there was going to be an us after his graduation, then there were conversations that we needed to have and have soon. And I wasn't an innocent party. If anything, I was guilty of not being the one to speak up.

I exhaled an indigent huff and, without giving the matter any thought, I flipped over the photograph. I didn't know what I'd expected, but it certainly wasn't the neatly penned words sending my heart plummeting into my stomach.

Finnegan and William at Obama's Victory Speech in Chicago 2012.

I read and reread the sentence as though I was waiting for myself to decipher a hidden meaning. But I never did. There was no mistaking the words or what they meant.

Trip was William, and William was Trip.