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Gavin's father was a pastor at the local Methodist Church in Tempe, Arizona. At first, she thought it was pretty cool. When she was younger, she would hang out in the church while he was working on sermons, her mother in the kitchen baking for some event. She felt free to run through the pews and have fun with the other children of church members. As she got older, however, she thought less of it. The teasing in school about being a pastor's daughter was too much. Constant joking about chastity and abstinence was too much.

She could tell her parents that her friends were great, school was going well, and her grades were holding up. They never knew the difference. They never knew that their only daughter was ostracized by her friends and resorted to eating alone in the bathroom because she couldn't handle their teasing. She knew they were jokes but they still stung.

She hated it. She hated how people mocked the cross she wore around her neck, the simple sweater and cardigan combo, the pleated skirts that made up her wardrobe. She hated how people mocked her for not wanting to drink or do drugs or go to parties. She hated how they mocked her for saving herself for marriage.

She had grown up with the belief that sex was special. It wasn't something to throw around to whoever would have you. She had never thought that a personal choice would lead to so much torment. But she still stood her ground. She was too strong to give in. She was too strong to just throw her beliefs aside for a couple of friends or a boy who gave her the time of day.

She only had one friend. Only one person that she would consider a friend. There was only one person she was close to that she would do anything for.

His name was John O'Callaghan and he was everything Gavin wasn't.

He didn't care about his grades. He didn't care about religion. He partied every weekend. He drank more than she thought one person could handle. He dabbled in drugs a time or two, though nothing serious. He had an endless amount of friends. He was in a band. He wore tight jeans and even tighter v-necks and put too much time into his hair. He had a new girlfriend every week and didn't care about his reputation.

It was a black and white friendship; Gavin was the innocent girl and John was...everything but innocent.

Unlike everyone else at their school, Gavin didn't judge him for the choices he made. She didn't judge him when he would crawl into her window at two am, drunk, and climb into bed next to her, crying onto her shoulder about the mistakes he had made. She didn't judge him when she would see him making out with some random girl in the library. She didn't even judge him when he got a girl pregnant and he confided in her and told her that the girl had an abortion.

No, she never judged him. To her, that was God's job and no one elses.

The friendship wasn't one-sided. John didn't judge Gavin either. He didn't care that everyone else in their class thought she was a prude, boring, or anything else they would use to describe her. He didn't care that she was a pastor's daughter. He didn't care that she was saving herself for marriage. He cared that she was a good friend, a loyal friend, and someone who was always there when he fucked up—and he fucked up a lot.

+

“John, really, I have to talk to you,” Gavin said, tugging on the arm of his black leather jacket.

John shook his head as he grabbed his books from his locker. “Gav, I really have to get going. Riley and I have plans—“

Gavin sighed. “John, two minutes. I need to talk to you.”

“I'll call you tonight, I promise,” John told her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before he slammed his locker shut. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” she muttered, half-hearted. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and watched as her best friend walked away. She leaned back against his locker, playing with the necklace that hung around her neck.

How was she supposed to tell him now?

+

By midnight, John still hadn't called. Not that she was surprised—it was Friday night and his date probably ran a little, well, late. She curled up on her bed, a book in hand, blankets covering her legs, and tried to distract herself. However, her eyes fell from the book to the boxes lining her room. Her clothes were packed, along with her books, ready to leave at six am with her father. He had told her two weeks ago that he was planning on a one year sabbatical in the Middle East. She was excited...at first, then she realized that meant leaving John, her only friend, for an entire year.

For two weeks she had been trying to tell him. But, really? How do you tell your best friend that you're leaving for a year? She wouldn't be back until the summer before senior year. And she knew how much people could change over the summer, let alone an entire year. She was scared, terrified that John would get mad that she was leaving or play it cool (like normal) but then everything would be different when she came back.

The last thing she wanted was to come back for senior year and not have a single person in her life.

John was forgiving, she knew that. But she also knew he wouldn't forgive her for waiting until the last minute to tell him she was leaving. Just the thought of sadness on his face was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She hated the thought of John ever being sad or crying. She'd only seen him cry twice and just seeing those tears in his gorgeous green eyes were enough to break her heart.

She closed her book and looked at the picture on her nightstand. It was a picture of her and John from his birthday the previous year. He was more than a little drunk, his eyes glassy and his smile easy. His arm was wrapped tightly around Gavin's waist, his lips pressed against her cheek. Even in the picture, her blush was evident as she looked down at the ground. It was her favorite picture of him.

She was busy smiling at the picture and the memories when her phone started vibrating on her pillow. She glanced at the screen, rolling her eyes when she saw the picture John had taken of himself when she got her new phone, and answered quietly. “Hey.”

”Gavin!”

She laughed lightly. “How was your date?”

”Riley is sooooo boring, Gav,” he told her. ”It was mind-numbingly dull and I swear, I grew a beard as she was talking about her stupid, boring life.”

“So you guys are soul mates then?” Gavin asked, smiling.

”No. Never.”

Gavin laughed. “Well, I'm sorry your evening was horrible.”

”I forgive you, Gavin. So. What did you need to tell me?”

“Oh, um,” she started before trailing off. She had completely lost her nerve. She had no idea how to tell him. “It's, um. It's nothing...important.”

”You sure? You seemed kinda...nervous this afternoon.”

“I was just...nervous about getting my test back on Monday,” she said, biting her lip. She briefly wondered if he could tell she was lying. She was a horrible liar and she knew it. And she really hated lying to him but...maybe that was easier than the truth.

”Gavin.”

“Yeah?”

”You're lying.”

Gavin sighed. Okay, maybe he could tell...

”But I'm not going to make you tell me. I know you, Gav, and you'll tell me when you're ready.”

Gavin smiled. “You're an amazing friend, John,” she said, her voice soft and sad. “I hope you know that.”

”Well, I am amazing,” he said with a laugh.

“You are.”

”Well, now that we've established that, I'm gonna get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, definitely,” she said quietly. “Goodnight, John.”

”Goodnight, Gav. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” she told him before hanging up. She laid back against her pillows and sighed. She had lied to John. Twice. She had lied twice. She didn't want to leave the next morning but she didn't have a choice. She didn't sleep that night. Thoughts of John consumed her—what would he say when he realized she was gone? Would he be angry? Disappointed? What would he do? Would he try to find her? Try to contact her?

She didn't know.

And for once in her life, her faith was shaken.

+

Once the plane landed in Lebanon, the first thing Gavin did was check her phone. She was forbidden from actually using it to text or call (thanks to international charges) and her father assured her that he would get her a temporary one for the year. It was probably close to four in the afternoon in Arizona and she had missed calls and texts from John.

She couldn't bring herself to read the messages or listen to the voice mails.

She knew what they would say.

Instead, she would save the voice mails for a later date, when hearing his voice in the middle of the night was the only thing that kept her from falling apart completely.

“You okay, pumpkin?”

Gavin looked up at her father's dark brown eyes, ones that mirrored her own, and shook her head. “No.”

“You will be,” he told her, kissing her forehead.

Gavin shied away from her father's touch. She was mad at him, she could admit that, but she couldn't blame him for wanting to leave. It was his job, that's all there was to it. But she felt she was allowed to be bitter since she was ripped away from her only friend. And one who probably wouldn't forgive her since she didn't even have the guts to tell him.

+

John dialed Gavin's number for the seventh time. He didn't understand why she wasn't texting him back or answering his calls. She always did. Gavin never left a text unanswered. It was nearly five o'clock and he pulled on a clean white v-neck and his Nikes, shoving his wallet and phone in his pocket, before descending down the stairs to find his mother in the kitchen.

“Hey, mom, have you talked to Pastor Wilson lately?” he asked, sitting down at the table.

His mother shook her head, light brown hair falling into her eyes. “No, I haven't.”

“Huh. Gav's not answering her phone,” he said, more to himself than to her. “I'm going to go over there.”

“Maybe she's mad at you,” his mother suggested.

John rolled his eyes, a scoff falling from his thin lips. “Gavin doesn't get mad, mom. And especially not at me. I'll be back in a little bit,” he told her before standing up and walking out the door.

Gavin's house was only three blocks away—a fifteen minute walk if he was feeling particularly lazy—and he made it there in ten. Gavin's car was in the driveway and he frowned. Was she ignoring him? Was she mad? He couldn't think of why she would be. But girls were fickle things and could stay mad over the smallest thing for weeks at a time. Shrugging, he walked up the steps and knocked on the door.

No answer.

Sighing, he reached under the mat for the spare key (you know, the one he wasn't supposed to know was hidden there) and let himself in the house.

“Gavin?” he called out.

He walked through the living room, frowning when he saw empty boxes lining the floor and trash bags everywhere.

“Gavin?!”

Without another thought, he raced up the stairs and into her room, throwing the door open. His frown deepened when he saw her book shelves were empty, her dressers void of clothes. There was nothing in her room save for a note on her bed.

“This is so fucking cliché, Gavin,” he muttered angrily, walking over to the bed and picking up the note. He practically ripped it open.

John,
I'm so sorry.
I didn't know how to tell you.
I can't bear to see you sad.
I hope you forgive me.
I'll be back in a year.
You're my best friend.
I love you.

- Gavin

“Dammit, Gavin!” he cried, crumbling the note in his hands. He fell back onto her bed, running his hands through her hair. How could she not tell him? And where the fuck was she going? He groaned and his eyes fell on the picture lying on her pillow. It was a strip of pictures taken from one of the photobooths in the mall. She had taken it without letting him even have one of the pictures. He felt himself smile as he remembered that day. He picked up the pictures and ran his fingers over the images slowly. At least he had something to remember her by?

He grew angry again, all of a sudden, and uncrumbled the note, sticking the picture into the fold. He set it on the bed and reached for his phone, dialing her number one last time. He knew she wouldn't answer but he also knew she would listen to the voice mail at some point and hopefully, hopefully, call him back.

He just wanted to hear her voice.

He just wanted to know that she was okay.

And, okay, fine, he wanted to know where she was, why she left, why she didn't tell him.

And what the hell was so important that she was leaving for a year?

John wasn't surprised when her phone went straight to voice mail and he had to tell himself repeatedly to be calm. But he was never one to control his temper. “Gavin, what the hell were you thinking? You're gone?! For a year?! Why didn't you fucking tell me you were leaving?! And where the hell are you? You have no idea how mad I am right now, Gavin. You're my best friend and you didn't even tell me you were leaving. I can't. I don't even know what to say.” He paused for a minute, unaware that he was crying until he felt a tear on his cheek. “Just,” he sighed. “Just please call me. Tell me you're okay. Tell me you'll be back soon, alright? You're. You're my best friend, Gavin. I love you. Just. Call me, please. I need to talk to you. Just...” he shook his head. “Call me.” He hung up the phone and laid back on her bed, one hand furiously wiping at his eyes.

He missed her.

And his chest felt like it was caving in.

The word “love” didn't even begin to cover what he felt for his best friend.

He just wanted her to come back.

He wanted to wake up the next morning and have it be a horrible dream.

But it wasn't.

+

It was three months later when Gavin first called him back. She snuck out of the class her father was teaching to local kids and wandered in town, finding a pay phone and dialing the familiar number. It had to have been close to three am back home but John had a nasty habit of answering any phone call, no matter the time, no matter the number. She felt her heart nearly stop when she heard his voice, thick and groggy, filled with sleep.

”Hello?”

In that moment, she couldn't answer. She didn't have any words. She didn't know what to say.

”Hello? Who is this?”

She sucked in a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak but she couldn't.

”...Gavin? Is that you? Gavin?”

She nodded but realized he couldn't see her; she felt like an idiot.

”Gavin? Where are you? Please come home. Please. I miss you, Gav, you just. You gotta say something.”

A tear fell down her cheek as she heard the pleading in his voice. She shook her head. She wouldn't be home for a while.

John sighed on the other end. ”I love you, Gavin. I love you so much. Please come home.”

Her mouth fell open and she couldn't speak—not that she was really able to form words before. Her heart was pounding against her chest and, in that moment, she couldn't imagine not seeing his face every day. She didn't know how she had survived the past three months, and she sure as hell didn't know how she was going to survive the next nine. All she wanted was to wake up in the middle of the night to John climbing in her bed, drunk, and begging her to forgive him. All she wanted was to feel his arms around her, his lips on her forehead. She hated not being around him.

“John, I...” she trailed off.

”Gavin?”

“I'm sorry.”

”Don't be sorry. Just come home.”

She bit her lip. She couldn't even tell him she was leaving so why tell him that she couldn't come back? She sighed. She couldn't do it.

She just hung up the phone.

+

Christmas came and went. Gavin didn't speak to her parents that day. Instead, she remained holed up in her little room, sitting on her bed, fingers sliding over the soft hemp material of the bracelet she had bought for John. Lying in the black box was a necklace to match with a peace sign hanging off of it. Just looking at it made her think of John and she hoped she would have the chance to give both of them to him.

To make the sabbatical easier on herself, she refused to bring her laptop. That way she wanted tempted to talk to everyone on FaceBook. That and Israel (which is where they happened to be that month) wasn't exactly beaming with WiFi in the middle of the desert. (Okay, it wasn't really a desert, it was just the middle of nowhere. Like, yeah, okay, she understood that Israel is to the Christians was Mecca is to the Muslims and that it was a great cultural and religious opportunity but...)

Well, Gavin longed for Arizona.

+

John woke up Christmas morning with an ache in his gut that never went away over the past six months. Not a day went by that he didn't think about Gavin—he'd be lying if he said he was over it. He went through the motions with his family—breakfast, opening gifts, family traditions, family dinner—with Gavin on his mind.

By the time he crawled into bed that night, he had only cried over Gavin being gone twice. His eyes fell on the picture of her that was still on his phone.

And he asked himself if he would ever stop thinking about her.

He knew he wouldn't.

+

To deal with the stress, Gavin took it upon herself to write John letters. She never sent them, no, instead deciding to keep them in the pocket of her suitcase (that she still refused to unpack all of the way). That month, they were in Jordan. And it was Valentine's Day. The best day of the year to be alone—only not. Gavin pulled the hood of her sweatshirt (okay, John's sweatshirt that she had stolen from him years before) and scrawled his name on the front of the letter. She folded it slowly, creasing it perfectly, before she got up from her bed and shoved it into the front pocket of her suitcase.

Maybe one day she would give them all to him.

But probably not.

+

“Gavin, sweetie. Can you come here for a minute?”

Gavin looked up from her Bible (she felt that she needed guidance more than ever since John wasn't around) and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She closed her book slowly and took the hair tie out of her hair before pulling it back again. Had it been a different situation and John wasn't in the picture, the sabbatical would have been an amazing experience for her—but it wasn't. Instead she focused on the humidity, the heat, the constant sunshine, and the lack of, well, John.. She stood up and followed her father's voice, finding him in the office of the Church they were at. “Yes, dad?”

“Can you sit?”

Gavin shrugged and smoothed out the pleats of her skirt before sitting down across from her father. “Yes?”

“We're going home early.”

“What?”

“We're going to go straight home after this week, instead of traveling some more,” her father told her.

Gavin paused for a second. “Why?”

“Because we've seen what we've wanted to see. And...you're unhappy, Gavin,” he said. “I can tell, your mother can tell. And we just want you to be happy.”

“Daddy...” she trailed off, starting to get choked up.

Her father stood up and walked around his desk, wrapping his arms around his daughter. “I just want you to be happy, girl. So pack up your bags. We're leaving in three days.”

“Thank you.”

+

Four days later, Gavin found herself standing in front of John's front door. She wrapped his sweatshirt tighter around her body, one hand in the pocket and fiddling with the necklace she had gotten him, and she sucked in a deep breath. She walked up the familiar steps and knocked on the door, for once unsure. Normally, she would just walk right in—Mrs. O'Callaghan had said she was always welcome—but now uncertainty washed over her.

When the door opened, she didn't get what she expected.

She expected to see John smiling because she was there—not because he had some girl wrapped all around him like she was trying to crawl into his skin. Gavin felt her heart pounding in her throat and she took a step back.

“Gavin?” John asked, his voice low. With one hand, he pushed the girl away from him.

“John!” the girl exclaimed.

John ignored her. “Gavin. You—“ he turned towards the girl. “You see her, right?”

The girl huffed. “Yes.”

Gavin just shook her head, turning, and she started running. She couldn't stop. She hadn't seen him in almost nine months and she comes back and he's with some girl. She didn't know why she expected different—John always had some girl on his arm, that was just who he was. But this time, this time it hurt. This time, she felt as if her heart were being ripped out of her chest. This time, it was different.

“Gavin!” John shouted, running after the girl without a second thought. “Gavin, stop running!”

Gavin stopped—of course she stopped—and was surprised when she felt John run right into her, almost knocking her over.

John turned her around in his arms and hugged her tightly out of fear that she'd slip away if he didn't. “Don't you ever fucking leave me again,” he whispered against her hair, tears slipping from his eyes.

Gavin wound her arms around his waist, holding him close. “I won't. I won't. I'm so sorry, John.”

“Don't be sorry. I'm just glad you're back,” John told her. He pulled away, his hands moving from her waist to her face, cupping her cheeks. He laughed slightly, still smiling. “My heart is racing right now.”

Gavin laughed lightly and looked over his shoulder—the girl was standing in his driveway watching them. Her stomach twisted and she took a step back out of his hands. “Um. I just. I just wanted to...say I was back,” she told him. “So, um. I'm just...going to go.”

“Don't go,” John said, grabbing her hand. “You can't go again. Not again.”

“John... She's watching up,” she said, feeling more than slightly uncomfortable.

“I don't care about her, Gav, I care about you. Now don't go,” he said, pulling her back into his arms and kissing her forehead, then her cheek. “God, I missed holding you in my arms,” he told her.

“I missed you so much,” she whispered.

“You have to promise me right now that you're never going to leave me again,” John said, his tone more serious than she had ever heard.

“I promise.”

“I need you to mean it, Gav,” he told her. “I lost you once, I can't do that again. I love you.”

“I love you, too, John. You're my best friend, I never wanted to leave,” she told him.

John sighed, shaking his head. “No, you don't get it. I love you, Gav,” he repeated.

She nodded slowly. “I love you, too, John.”

John sighed again. “Okay, no, Gav, I—“ he shook his head. “Fuck it.”

And he kissed her. And he knew that everything would be okay. Because the way he felt when she was in his arms, their hands entwined, their lips pressed against once another, he knew that they could handle anything.