He died that night, alone, in the rain, in the dark, the boy that called me baby girl.
I was only seventeen; we were going to be together forever.
On his way to pick me up for prom, he swerved. I’ll never know what made him do it, what killed the boy I’d loved my whole life. With roses clutched in his hand, he bled out in icy wetness all alone.
His best friend is here though, and I’m pretty sure he loves me.
But after the accident, I left for a year and didn’t look back.
Now I’m back in town and my heart is like shattered glass.
Do I pick up the pieces and risk getting cut? And do I let another boy call me baby girl?