But still, I am forever trapped in once upon a time.
In the past.
So no. Love does not come in green. It dies in flames of maroon and gold, and drowns in frozen ponds of ice.
Holy shit.
I can feel his pain through the screen. In my heart. In truth it’s been there all along, but this has rolled the stone from the tomb, and ripped the fatal wound right back open.
Closing Wattpad, I do what I told myself I never would.
Jamie, I miss you.
Not five minutes later, my phone buzzes.
Jamie
Miss you too, kid.
Grateful to be an athlete,I make it to the airport with only five minutes before the boys’ flight lands. It was not part of the plan. Nor was almost decapitating several hapless passersby with my sign as I race toward the gate.
I’m here as they make their way through the crowd though, sign held high above my head, a semi-forced smile on my lips. Having heard from Jamie for the first time in months is bittersweet but, my friends have watched me wallow in self-pity for just as long. They’ve come all this way to see me. I can pretend to be living the dream for a few days.
Suddenly, it’s not so hard to fake it ‘til I make it. As you would expect with someone so tall, it’s Brady I see first, looking every bit the Aussie surfer with his blonde locks reaching chin length. Lucas is next, standing on his tip toes to see over the crowd and guide Sam, who’s not looking where he’s going but at his phone with a suspiciously pleased smirk on his face, by the sleeve of his tee.
I know for sure that Brady’s seen me, when his cheeks turn the color of my old jersey, my welcome sign hitting the mark.
Flounder, Bailey and Basse.
Welcome to Montreal Morality Rehabilitation Center
Lucas and Sam seem to find it hilarious. Brades not so much.
“What the hell, Cubby. This is another country, you know. They might think we’re deviants and deport us.” This is said as he hugs me so tightly I can barely breathe.
“We’re already through customs, bro,” Sam adds, who picks me up and whirls me around as though I’m his long lost love and he’s just returned from war, the second Brady releases me. Lucas is quiet as usual, smiling while his head pivots back and forth between me and the terminal behind us.
“You okay, Lucas?” I ask as I get his version of a hug, a one armed bro-slap.
“Yeah, of course. Just have that feeling like I left something behind.” He starts patting himself down, running through his mental checklist in whispers. “Phone, wallet. Passport. Yeah. Definitely missing something.” Sam grabs him by the shoulders and spins him around.
“Hey you’re right. It’s your carry-on. You must have left in the plane, you dick.”
“Shit, Lucas.” Bending, I rifle through the small collection of bags the boys dropped at my feet. Two smaller ones have Brady’s name tag, and the larger Sam’s. “Is it all you brought with you? Quick, run back and see if the flight crew have it.” I’m just about to push him back into the throng when a shadow looms overhead.
“Don’t panic, Kid. I’ve got it.”
Only the back of his head and strong, defined curve of his shoulders are visible, but already, something inside me has healed.
The anxiety that’s ruled so much of my life, rears its ugly head. You have no idea if he’s moved on, if he’s been dating, or hooking-up. He won’t want you anymore. He’s going to be a star. You are nothing.
During my several meltdowns in the days leading up to our flight, my travel mates ensured me none of what I desperately needed to be untrue, was, and the truths I was clinging to, needed more than air, were. Cory’s not seeing anyone. Not even hooking-up. Has been miserable. Talks about me all the time.
The fear lingers, maybe his old insecurities have resurfaced. Maybe the contacts are back in. The DL lifestyle back on. That’s why receiving that text as we were beginning our descent felt like fate. Those four such tiny words,Jamie I miss you, telling me what felt like a massive risk, wasn’t so risky at all.
“Jamie?” he says, with not a minuscule amount of movement in his body.
“Hey, Cub.”
