Life gave you your best friend, and the love of your life. But life is also unfair, and you had to get used to that.
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Arkansas definitely wasn’t a state of opportunities. Everyone knew that.
Either way, you were born and raised there, and you’re proudly an Arkansan.
You grew up with a very special guy. His name was Austin. Austin Reaves.
“Grew up together” is a really short term for how long you and Austin have known each other, also short for how much you have been through together.
Austin was everything for you, and you were everything for him. Being his best friend was probably the best part of your life.
You had someone who cared, someone who would travel to the moon and back for you. And you had someone you would do the same thing for.
The first time you met Austin Reaves wasn't on a basketball court, but in the back of a high school history class. You were paired for a truly miserable group project on the Russian revolution. You remembered him mostly as the quiet, cool kid who was taller than everyone else and wore the same ugly hoodie three times a week.
He didn't talk much, only giving slow but good answers when you asked. And you, being the one who had to do the heavy lifting on the school project, carried the weight.
But when you started to panic over the due date, it was Austin who pulled out an outline. "It's fine," he murmured, pushing his blonde hair out of his eyes. "We can meet at my house tonight. My mom makes good snacks."
That night turned into three nights a week, and three nights a week became every night.
You realized the basketball star was secretly hilarious, intelligent, and had an intense focus that was captivating. He’d talk about the NBA like it was an inevitable future, not a dream. And you, felt seen for the first time by someone outside your circle.
As senior year progressed, college decisions came. You had applied to a few schools close to you, including your hometown favorite. Austin also did.
One afternoon, you both received letters on the same day. He tossed his on his bed, refusing to open it until you did. You ripped open the Wichita State University envelope first, letting out a small smile when you saw the acceptance.
"Okay, your turn," you said, pushing his letter toward him.
He opened it slowly. His expression was serious, but then he looked up at you, his brown eyes finally lighting up with a smile. "I got in, too.” he said.
You jumped across the bed and tackled him in a hug. It wasn't just acceptance letters; it felt like a ticket to keep your lives intertwined.
"We have to go!" you cried, pulling back to look him in the face. "We can do this together. We can be next-door neighbors, or whatever, but we stick together."
He squeezed your hands. "Yeah," he agreed. "Wichita it is. The Shockers are getting a deal."
You spent the rest of the night planning your future, oblivious to the fact that the decision to stick together for college was laying for the most painful and defining breakup of your young adult lives.
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The Wichita State campus felt heavier under the gray sky, You two were supposed to be the dynamic duo, the high school friends who made it to the big time together.
But "big time" never felt right for him.
You remember countless nights fighting over the last slice of pizza, listening him about his fears. "I feel stuck, you know? Like I'm not going to get where I need to be here. I'm just, wasting my time."
You always reached out and squeezed his arm, offering the only thing you could: "Hey. You are incredible, Austin. You've got the work, you've got the talent. It'll happen, just keep going."
You were the sweet home we would always have, the one who saw the star he was before the world did. You didn't mind the role, not back then. You loved being his anchor. It was the purest form of friendship you had ever known.
But somewhere between those late-night talks and the comfort, your feelings had quietly shifted. The platonic "I'm here for you" had morphed into a silent "I need you."
You didn't want to be his best friend anymore. You wanted to be the reason he stayed. You wanted him.
You were sitting in the library, physiology books on the table, glasses on, when he finally brought it up. He was just looking at you, avoiding your eyes.
"So, look," he started, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I’ve been talking about it, but... I did it. I made the decision." He took a breath, finally lifting his gaze to yours. There was a mix of apology and determination in his eyes.
"Im transferring to Oklahoma," he said, the words hitting you like a punch. "I…I’m so sorry i didn’t tell you, but i had to make this decision for myself."
Your world, the love you had built together over the last four years, broke.
Oklahoma. Hours away. A life you weren't part of. All the unspoken feelings you kept exploded in your chest, now tasting like panic and regret.
This wasn't just a friend moving; this was the future you secretly wanted slipping away.
Your throat clenched, "Austin, you can't be serious," you managed to say, "You signed the papers? When? We talked about this two days ago, and you said you were going to think about it! You were just going to leave me here?"
His eyes widened, pulling his hands into the sleeves of his hoodie. "It’s not about leaving you. It's about basketball. You know how much this means to me. I need to get seen. I can't do that at Wichita, but at Oklahoma... this is my shot."
"And what about my shot?" You stood up, slamming your palms on the table between you.
The nearby students looked over. "What about us? You talk about taking a shot for yourself, but you couldn't even tell your best friend about a decision that changes absolutely everything for the next three years?"
"Because I knew you'd try to stop me!" he shot back, standing, his voice rising. "You always tell me to stay, to wait, to be patient. I needed to be selfish for once, and I couldn't handle the guilt of looking you in the eyes and telling you I chose myself over—" He cut himself off.
"Over what, huh? Over me? Over the fact that I'm supposed to be enough for you to at least talk to me about this?" Your voice cracked, tears finally coming out.
"It’s not just about Wichita, damn. “It’s about you." You stepped closer, closing the distance he created. "I didn’t want to be just your support, Austin. I wanted to be your future. Can’t you see I’m in love with you?”
The silence was uncomfortable. His expression crumbled, replaced by a mix of shock and pain.
"What?" he whispered, his eyes wide.
"I love you," you repeated, the confession hung there. "And that's why this kills me. Because I know you’re making the right choice for your career, and I was just hoping that maybe, maybe I was enough to be worth a fight. But you transferred without thinking it twice."
He reached out, his hand hovering near your face. "I... I love you too," he confessed, the words soft. "I couldn't look at you anymore without wanting something I thought I couldn't have because I was so focused on the dream. I was scared if I let myself have you, I wouldn't leave. I love you, too. And that’s exactly why I had to go."
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The dorm room was a mess of boxes and the ghost of a future that wouldn't happen. The anger had burned off, leaving only the devastation of two people who had finally confessed their love at the moment they were forced apart.
He was sitting on the floor, running a hand over the worn leather of his favorite basketball. The ball was covered in Sharpie signatures from high school tournaments, a piece of your history. You sat down beside him, leaning your head onto his shoulder.
“You’re really leaving, huh?” you whispered, the finality of it still hard to believe.
He didn't move his gaze from the ball. “I have to. But that doesn’t mean I want to. You know that, right? I spent all these years telling myself I couldn’t risk this.” He turned his face toward you, his cheek resting against the top of your head. “It’s the first time I’ve ever been happy and miserable at the exact same time.”
You reached up. “You’re great here, you’ll be even better at Oklahoma. And when you get to the league… you’ll be unstoppable.” You just held onto the moment.
He finally put the ball down, turning fully to pull you into his lap. He smelled like cheap cologne and love.
“Remember that?” he said, gesturing to a tiny, faded scar above your eyebrow from when he dared you to climb the big oak tree behind the high school. “We’ve been through everything. Oklahoma is just… a detour.”
You forced a smile, tucking yourself against his neck. “Then you better call me, farmer boy. Every day. Don’t you dare let me forget your voice.”
“Never,” he swore. He held you tighter, an embrace that was more than just goodbye, it was an attempt to memorize your scent, your weight, your existence, Before the morning stole it all away.
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That night, with the suitcases and packing tape in his small dorm room, you had your real goodbye. It was a mix of stolen kisses that felt like forever and bitter promises that felt like lies. You said I love you again, sealing a pact you knew, even then, the distance would likely shatter. He left for Oklahoma the next morning.
Austin went to Oklahoma, where he finished his college career before going pro. He became exactly the player he always believed he could be, the kind of player who deserved the impossible lights of the NBA.
Eight years of watching him on a massive stadium screen, his name, Reaves, plastered across a jersey for a California team. He was famous, untouchable, the boy who left Arkansas and then made it all the way to Los Angeles.
Your own life felt foreign. You finished college, Became a doctor. Started a career, and even dated a wonderful man named Mateo for two years. Mateo was kind, stable, and completely in love, he wanted you. He wanted a dream, a family, an endless love. He deserved your full attention, but you couldn't give it.
Every time you saw a basketball, or every time Mateo asked you a question about your future, you saw Austin's brown eyes. That desperate look when he said he loved you, then turned and walked away. The relationship ended quietly, Mateo eventually realizing he was dating a ghost.
You were living in Kansas City, while Austin was a world away. You never reached out. He never did either. The fear that he’d forgotten you was a persistent ache you had learned to live with.
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It was a Tuesday afternoon when your phone rang. The number was unfamiliar, an L.A. area code. You almost let it go to voicemail, but some instinct, that old, terrible, beautiful instinct, made you answer.
The single word, that familiar, Arkansas accent, made your entire body tremble. Eight years dissolved instantly. You were back in the student center, hearing the word 'Oklahoma.'
"Austin," you finally breathed.
"Yeah. I... I know this is out of nowhere. I've been in town for a few days, visiting my brother. I have a day off tomorrow, and I just… I need to see you." He sounded tired, but there was a seriousness you recognized.
You met at a quiet coffee shop, miles from the Wichita campus where you first fell in love and ripped each other apart. He walked in, somehow both the same and different. His shoulders were wider, his clothes the same, and his face was recognizable to millions. But his eyes were still the same, warm and intense, fixed only on you.
You talked for two hours about nothing important: the weather, your job, his travel schedule. Until he put down his untouched coffee mug and leaned forward.
"I have to be honest," he said. "I was a damn fool. When I left, I told myself I was protecting us. That I needed to make it before I could ask you to join me. I thought if I just focused on the goal, the dream, the distance wouldn't matter. But it did. Every single night, every time I walked out onto a court with 20,000 people screaming, I looked up at the stands and you weren't there. I won a championship last year, and the first person I wanted to call was you, and I couldn’t."
He reached across the table and took your hand, his grip warm.
"I didn't forget you. I just tried to bury you under goals and fame because I regretted that choice the moment I drove out of Wichita. Leaving you was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done."
He squeezed your hand. "My lease is up in three months, and I'm signing an extension on my contract. I need to know something. I need to know if that woman I fell for, the one who told me she loved me right before I walked away, is still there."
"I know I’m asking a lot, and I know I broke your heart. But I’m here now. Come to California. Quit that job, pack a bag, and move to L.A. With me. Let me finally show you that you were always the dream. I want you back, and I want you there."
You looked at his hand holding yours, then up at his face. Eight years of aching, unanswered questions, culminated in this moment.
The ghost of Austin that you had been carrying finally stood before you, solid and real. All the reasons to be angry, the loneliness, it were there, but it felt small and distant compared to the certainty in his eyes. He wasn't the scared college kid anymore; he was a man asking for his future.
A smile, one that felt like genuine sunshine after a long winter, spread across your face. "Austin," you started, your voice thick with love. "You waited eight years to ask me to move to the other side of the country?"
He let out a nervous laugh. "I know, I’m terrible at timing."
"No," you said, squeezing his hand back. You had loved him when he had nothing, and you loved him still. "No, you’re not. I’ll come to California. Yes. I'll move to L.A. with you."
The relief that washed over him was enormous. He practically launched himself out of his chair, pulling you up and crushing you against his chest, right there in the middle of the coffee shop. He kissed you, a kiss that tasted like a lifetime of missed opportunities.
He pulled back, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that finally escaped your eyes.
"Thank God," he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes shining. "Listen to me, because I mean this, and I'm not waiting another eight years."
He stepped back just enough to look you in the eyes, his voice dropping to that serious tone you hadn't heard since he was talking about going pro.
"I asked you to come to California to be with me, but I'm not going to leave this to chance again. This time, I’m locking it down. I'm going to marry you," he vowed, the promise delivered with the force of a game-winning shot. "It might take a minute, but I'm buying the ring and I'm doing it right. You are my future, and I am done being a damn fool. You, the Lakers, a ring, a big house and a big family. The whole package."
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i know y’all missed me, enjoy 🤭
