Again, I shake my head. “No, and like most things this year, my time to figure that out is coming to an end.” I grab her hand and brush my thumb over the top. “Promise me things won’t go back to the way they were when you come back to campus. Even if you’re still mad at me.”
Natalie’s eyes widen a little. “You think I’m still mad at you?”
I shrug, trying to play it off. “I’ve been hopeful my groveling skills were wearing you down. I was kinda counting on a few more days, though.”
Her dad slams the brake and curses. “Sorry Cole, but it looks like you’re going to have to jump out here and grab your bag.There aren’t any spots to pull over and this lane is backing up, too.”
“Flying out a day after Christmas, I totally get it,” I say. “I appreciate the lift.”
“Anything for Natalie’s… what do you say, kid? Is he your real boyfriend now?”
My hand freezes on the door handle. My heart slams against my ribs.
Natalie shrieks, “Come again?” and her parents laugh like they just dropped the punchline to the joke of the year.
“Oh sweetheart,” her mom says, “you’re going to have to do better than tag in a twin for us not to notice you’ve suddenly switched partners. We had our suspicions that Caden was a cover-up, but after Cole came for Christmas instead, we knew there was no way you two had been dating for almost two years.”
“How—how did you know?” Natalie asks. “I thought we were convincing.”
Her mom snorts. “Sweetheart, you look at him like you want him, but you’re scared, and he looks at you like you hung the moon but you’re unreachable.”
“Sorry to kick you out on that note, Cole, but again, the cars. The line. I want to get the hell out of here,” Mr. D’Amore says.
“Uhm. Understood. Mr. D’Amore. Sorry, for…yeah. Okay. Sorry to abandon you on that note Natalie, but…”
I hook my thumb towards the airport and step out of the car.
“Have a nice flight,” Natalie says, nervously chewing on her lip.
“You too,” I wince. “I mean drive.” I duck and peer at her. “Well, bye.”
“Bye.” She smiles at me.
“The line, Cole—” Mr. D’Amore says more grumpily.
Right.
“Yes, sir!” Heat crowds my cheeks. I shut the door and try to walk away but get yanked right back to the car—thanks to my duffel bag’s strap shut in the door. I’m sure I look super cool and chill.
I untangle it, slam the door shut, and force myself to wave on the curb.
Her mom’s voice drifts faintly out the window before it rolls up. “God, he’s in love with you.”
Nailed that exit.
At this point, love feels like an understatement. Because as the car gets farther, it feels as though she is taking my heart with her and leaving me on the curb.
Soft snow falls, making the world seem muffled and soft. The curb is a mess of dirty slush under my boots. My duffel bag strap digs into my shoulder. I don’t move. I should.
I can’t.
I stare at the spot where her car vanished.
Like if I look long enough, it’ll swing back around and her dad will lean out the window and say,“Just kidding, kid. Go get her.”Or I’ll open my eyes and realize I’m still back in her living room, tangled in blankets, her legs pressed against mine while she sleeps.
I was so fucking close.
But the car doesn’t come back.
