Content.
I stop in the doorway and just stare. For the first time today my brain shuts up. My heart? Not so much. Is this what married mornings feel like?! Jesus freaking Christ. Because if it is, sign me the fuck up.
I walk over, until I'm right in front of him. He looks up at me with those stupidly green eyes. I don't say anything. Just lean in, and kiss him. His hand is sliding up to the back of my neck. He pulls back, and smiles. But then his smile fades.
"Once we eat, I need to go next door. To, um…pack my stuff. For tomorrow."
Fuck. There it is. Reality.
I try not to show it. Try to stay cool. But fuck me. He's really going. And all this softness, this sweetness, this morning that feels like forever, it's got an expiration date.
"What time's your flight?" I ask.
He looks at me, a little hesitant. "18:15."
I nod. Swallow it down. "Alright," I say.
"Pack your stuff. After that, we're going somewhere." His eyebrows rise. "Somewhere?"
I smirk. "Surprise."
He grins wide. "Ooh, okay! I'll be quick then."
Then he pulls my hand and leads me toward the kitchen. "But first," he says, "come eat. I made breakfast. Hope you don't mind I used your kitchen."
I blink at him.
"What?" he laughs nervously.
"You're the sweetest little creature I've ever seen in my life. I wanna punch you."
His eyes go wide.
"Like, I wanna shake you. You're too much." I pull him into me, wrap my arms around him tight. "I'm gonna eat you instead."
He melts against me with a soft chuckle. "I'd like to see you try."
"Oh, I so will," I murmur into his hair.
"But first…breakfast."
40) Our Last One
Rava
I'm packing slower than I should.
Folding things too carefully. Shirts, socks, a book I probably won't read but still want with me. Everything goes in. And still, I feel like I'm forgetting something. Maybe not something. Maybe someone. I think back to the beginning of the summer.
When everything felt messy, loud and too much. I remember saying, "At least I'll leave after the summer. At least I won't have to see him every day." And now I can't believe I actually said that.
Because from tomorrow on, I'm going to miss his face every day. His voice. His arms. The way he calls me names. And I just know that the second I think about him, my throat's gonna close up and I'll probably cry like a loser in the middle of some hallway.
I zip up a side pocket. Then glance over my shoulder. Gio's sitting on my bed completely hunched over. He looks serious.
"How's it going?" I ask gently.
"Trying to fix it," he mumbles, not even looking up. I walk over a little and see all the tiny beads laid out in front of him, Emiliana's bracelet.
