The pilot's voice was tinny through the speakers as he informed us that we were due to arrive at our destination of London Gatwick at exactly six o'clock in the evening, though it would feel like two in the afternoon to my jet-lagged body. I settled back into my seat and began to work at untangling the wires of my earphones. With a contented smile on my face, I put them in and started playing a soft, acoustic playlist. The plane started to rush along the runway, my excitement building in concurrence with the speed we were going. After possibly the most emotional four months of my life, I was finally going home.

The final days of my first semester had been long and slow without Alice, Maya or Carter. He hadn't contacted me at all since leaving for his trip and I decided it was healthiest to block out all thoughts of him, instead of letting my mind wander onto what exactly he was getting up to that kept him so busy. Other than getting lunch with Michael once, my days had been filled with a lot of sleeping, Netflix and packing.

More than I'd expected to be a couple of weeks ago, I was truly glad to be going back to England.

Soon enough, I felt myself beginning to doze off. The flight was seven hours and I'd not been to sleep all night because of how early I'd had to leave for the airport. So I let the whirring of the plane and the music from my earphones lull me to sleep.

I woke with a jolt, noticing instantly that my mouth felt too dry. My eyes darted around me for a moment before I acclimatised to my surroundings. Checking my watch, already set to UK time, I saw that there was less than half an hour left of the journey. I'd managed to sleep away almost the entire length of the flight and I felt far better for it.

When the plane landed, I couldn't stop smiling. I sped through the airport as quickly as possible, relieved to see that my suitcase was one of the first out on the baggage claim. The next room was crowded with people, all seemingly waiting for the other passengers who'd flown with me. At the front of the group, though, was my Mum, holding a sign that read welcome home Sydney! in bold letters surrounded by hearts.

I rushed over to her and let her scoop me into a tight hug. America was great, but this was still undoubtedly home.

The first thing to greet me when we finally arrived at home was the sound of dog paws scurrying across the wooden floor. I opened the door and Pippa the dog launched herself at me, a frenzy of fur and licking and a wagging tail.

"Looks like she remembers you," Mum commented with a smile.

Once Pippa had calmed down enough for me to actually move through the hallway, I put my luggage down and went into the kitchen. Everything looked identical to when I'd left back in August: the same pictures in frames on the walls, eclectic collection of coffee cups in the cabinet, dog bed in the corner. Yet I felt like I'd become someone entirely new.

We'd already covered the basics in the drive up from the airport - how was the flight? when are exam results out? - so now she wasted no time in diving in with something she'd clearly been holding onto for a while.

"You know Jenny?" she asked. It was a rhetorical question; Jenny was her oldest friend and, by extension, a family friend. "Her sister's family from Leeds are spending the next few weeks staying with her while their house is renovated. It was supposed to be finished before Christmas but there were delays."

"Okay..." I wasn't sure what Jenny's sister's housing situation had to do with me.

"Anyway, Jenny's nephew, Adam, is your age." Oh. Now things were becoming clear. "I've invited them over for dinner tomorrow night."

Pretty much all my life my Mum had been trying her best to get me to make new friends after it became clear early on that I was deeply introverted. Then, not long after Carter had been in my life, she began to not-so-subtly rooting for me to get a boyfriend. Mostly I think she just wanted me to have company. At the time, she'd had no idea that my heart still belonged to that boy who'd lived across the street. And now, six years later, she still didn't know that, once again, my heart was his.

"That's nice," I replied, struggling to convey much enthusiasm.

I had told Mum about Carter's unexpected reappearance in my life back when it happened, though I obviously left out the whole friends with benefits part. I'd expected her to pry further but she'd asked surprisingly few questions. Now, knowing the truth about what happened with Carter's family and the memories she must associate with them, I could understand why she wasn't interested in knowing that much about what he was up to these days.

***

I was just finishing the braid in my hair when I heard the gravel crunching on our driveway outside. Downstairs, Pippa barked once, notifying the household of our guests' arrival. I tied the end of my braid then stood up, glancing at my reflection in the full length mirror on my wall. The sound of car doors shutting caught my curiosity and I went to the window to look out on the driveway.

Hanging back slightly from his parents and aunt was Adam. From my viewpoint I couldn't make out a lot of him, but I noticed his slicked back black hair and tan skin. I watched as they stepped inside, followed by the sound of my Mum calling up to me.

I padded down the stairs and found the guests clustered in the kitchen. Instantly, Jenny smothered me in a hug, declaring that I looked older, the way she did every time I saw her. Then came the introductions, first to the parents, Sarah and Paul, then their son. I caught the suggestive glance Jenny threw my way as she told me that this was Adam.

"Hi, nice to meet you all," I said with my best smile, letting my eyes briefly meet Adam's before moving on.

Last night, when my jet-lag had kept me up until the early hours, it had been impossible not to think of Carter. All I could see when I shut my eyes was him and I wondered what he was doing at that moment, off in some lakehouse with Olivia and who knows who else. So, figuring that it was either forgetting about him or driving myself insane, I knew I had to move on. And what better time for a rebound than when I had a pre-booked flight back to the States acting as the cut off point?

Throughout the evening, I stole glances at Adam, who was seated opposite me at our dining table. He was attractive, though in a less obvious way than Carter. In fact, he was totally different to Carter in just about every way. His colouring was dark where Carter's was fair, he was shy where Carter was confident, he was a maths student who looked like he'd not worked out a day in his life. All of this seemed to just add up in his favour as an ideal rebound candidate.

Of course, that depended on his interest in me. But it seemed that both my Mum and Jenny were rooting for us. At some points, it even felt a little like the entire dinner had been scheduled in order to set us up.

"So, Adam," Mum began in her sing-song voice that aimed to be both casual and suggestive at once. "Where do you go to university?"

"Durham," he answered politely.

Mum looked up at me and smiled, as though to say, look, he's smart!

"Sydney's a student at Yale, she's doing a study abroad year there," Jenny inputted.

Despite the circumstances, I couldn't help the small buzz I felt at hearing someone say that. For so long it had been a case of "may be" and "hopefully" before it became a certain "will be". This was the first time I'd heard it in the present tense.

Adam looked up at me and I caught a glimpse of his interest. "What made you want to study there?"

I recounted the explanation I'd told so many times of how my Dad had studied there and the literature with film option being excellent, et cetera. Adam appeared to be genuinely interested, which I enjoyed. After discovering that Carter had been splitting his attention between at least Olivia and me, if not more, it could be nice to have someone's undivided attention.

By the end of the night, I'd decided that Adam was definitely what I needed to get over Carter. He had a lot going for him, but not many of the same things that I loved in Carter. In fact, his personality was pretty similar to mine, none of the uncontrolled spontaneity that drove me crazy with Carter.

When it came to saying goodbye, Jenny suggested we do this again sometimes. My Mum agreed and looked over at me, so I nodded emphatically. As with everything I did, I'd already started mentally planning. I didn't want to rush into anything; I obviously had no plans for a lasting relationship, nor to go as far as I had with Carter. But I decided that, if I played things right, I could end up with a New Year's kiss with someone cute that would serve as the perfect distraction from who Carter was kissing to mark the same occasion. Plus, when I returned to college a week later, I could see Carter again with the knowledge that I could get with other people and that that was good too.

In a total change from the night before, I went to bed feeling content. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I'd reclaimed some control over everything.

***

I didn't see my Dad until December 23rd. He pulled up on the road outside, not even staying long enough to bother cutting the engine. Calling goodbye to my Mum, I raced out to his car and got in the passenger seat.

"Happy Christmas Eve Eve," he said by way of greeting.

I grinned, leaning over for a half-hug. "Hey, Dad."

During the short drive to his flat, Dad chattered on about various things. It occurred to me that this was the first time I'd seen him since Carter had told me the truth about my parents divorce - that my Dad was a cheater.

Shakin' Stevens' Merry Christmas Everyone began playing on the radio, and he turned up the radio, singing along totally out of tune. I look across at him; I didn't know how I was supposed to equate this funny, caring man with one who would sleep with another woman while my Mum and I were waiting for him to come home. All of a sudden, there was no longer a clear distinction in my mind; the idea I'd always held that anyone who cheats is automatically a bad person was - and I hated grey areas.

But this was the first time I'd seen my Dad in months and it was Christmas, so I pushed any nagging thoughts to the back of my mind. For now, at least, he was just my Dad - past irrelevant. I'd just enjoy the time I had at home with my family and celebrate my favourite holiday.

Still, throughout the day I couldn't help but think of Carter. By now, he'd be back from the lakehouse trip and back home in Chicago. I wasn't pining for him, or getting jealous of what he could be getting up to with other girls; I simply felt for him as a friend. If I thought it was awkward being with my parents, it must have been a hundred times worse for him, and he'd been enduring it for years on end.

So, that evening, despite vowing to myself that I wouldn't, I pulled out my phone to text him. Hey, Carter. Hope things are good with you.

A couple of minutes past midnight, just as I went to put my phone down and get to sleep, I got a reply.

Can I call you?

This made me laugh a little to myself. Of course he could call me. Did he not know that I'd do just about anything for him?

I didn't put that, obviously, just typed back, sure. Instantly, my phone started ringing and his caller ID flashed up on the screen. I'd snapped the photo not long ago, when he met me straight from football practice; his hair was messy from his helmet, cheeks flushed, a goofy grin on his face. Already smiling, I answered the call.

"You okay?" I asked straight away.

"Oh, yeah, I'm just fantastic," Carter replied, voice quiet but saturated with sarcasm. My smile dropped. Then, he added in a normal, though still hushed, voice, "Sorry, yeah, I'm fine."

"Don't sound very fine."

There was muffled noise on the other end which was abruptly shut out, and when he spoke again his voice was a normal volume. "I'm just enjoying the joys of the Pearson household."

Again, with the sarcasm. I couldn't remember if this had always been a defence mechanism of his, or if he'd developed it over the years we were apart.

"Carter, you can be honest with me if things aren't good."

A drawn out pause made me wonder if I'd overstepped the mark; perhaps it was best to not pry and just let him come to me when he was ready. But he was the one who suggested the phone call. I thought maybe that was the closest to reaching out that Carter would ever come.

"Things aren't good," he replied eventually. His tone was blank, words stilted. "Dad's been drinking more. I think he has been since I've been away at college. He did the same last year. I guess he knows that I'm not there to even try to stop him."

My chest hurt, as though my heart breaking for him was a physical, tangible thing. Over the years, I'd advised friends on relationship breakups and makeups, on school problems, on arguments with their parents. But this was bigger, more serious, than any of that. So I just told him what I thought he might need to hear. "That's not your fault, though. None of it is."

"Sometimes it feels like it is," Carter mumbled.

He sounded young, vulnerable, broken. More than anything, I wanted to be able to hold him, to tell him everything would be okay. But we were thousands of miles apart, so my words had to be enough to comfort him.

"Nothing about your family is your fault, Carter. You're... incredible," I said. For once, I wasn't worrying about whether I was being too full-on, too open, with my feelings. "They don't deserve you."

For a minute or so, there was nothing but quiet between us. I reached over and switched off my light, so that I was cloaked in darkness. Something about it was comforting, and I wondered if Carter was in the dark, too. But some quick mental maths, told me that it was only just gone seven o'clock there, if I'd gotten the time zones right. So I pictured him in an indistinct bedroom I'd never seen, sprawled across the bed, phone pressed to his ear, staring up the ceiling in the same way that I was.

"Carter," I whispered into the darkness. I could hear his breathing, slow and steady, on the other end of the line, the only indication he was still there. "I miss you."

"I miss you too, Sydney." I could hear the smile in his voice.

Something about the complete darkness gave the conversation a sense of anonymity, like I could say anything. I felt vulnerable. Heart in my mouth. "I don't think you ever realised how much I liked you. Like you, still."

There was a long, heavy pause. This wasn't the winter break I'd planned for, one which consisted of relaxing and moving on and getting over Carter. Then again, nothing with Carter was what I'd planned for.

"That's not true." Another pause. "I really liked you when we were younger. Actually, I think I maybe loved you, even, at least as much as you can love someone when you're fourteen. And I do still like you, it's just... things are different now. I'm different now."

Strangely, a sense of relief came over me. Perhaps this was closure. After six long years, I finally knew how he'd felt about me when I first fell for him. I even had a sense of what he felt for me now, and what he did feel was okay. It was like a part of me had been holding onto him all this time, always wondering what he'd thought and felt and wanted, but now I could let that go.

Once upon a time, we'd had something special. Something like a young, naive kind of love. But we could have more than one story and, at last, I was ready for the next chapter.