We didn't kill Brett. His death wasn't fair, and it wasn't our fault.
“He would have been so proud of you, kitten,” Bowen says, grabbing my hand from his face and linking our fingers once more.
“He would have been proud of you, Bowen. You went to school; you started your career. You have an amazing talent you could totally share with the world if you wanted to. You found support with the Bennets and a good friend in Ian. You may feel like you ran to the lake, Boe, but you never stopped living.”
Bowen makes a throaty, choked sound and pushes off the bed. He rubs his face on his way to the other side of the room. I watch him wipe his face, then grab one of the folded blankets. He lays it out in front of the TV, and my heart beats wildly in my chest.
Bowen crouches down in front of the TV, and I don't even realize I'm holding my breath until a minute later when the screen turns on, and I suck in air.
“I once caught him readingShrekfanfic,” he says, fiddling with the remote. He doesn't see my watery smile, but it's there.
“Donkey and his wife?” He loved the ass.
“Nah,” Bowen says, grinning at me over his shoulder. “Shrek and Don, baby. He swore he would put a hex on me if I ever told a soul.”
I snicker, moving over to the blanket. When Bowen finally settles next to me, I have tears running down my face. And the smile on my lips?
I fought so fucking hard for it.
When the movie clicks on, it's at full volume, and Shrek is yelling about finding everyone in his swamp.
Bowen and I look at each other and laugh.
We don't stop atShrek. We watch the whole stack of movies, only leaving the blanket to get snacks and use the bathroom. Sheila brought us up lunch duringThe Hangoverand dinner duringThe Notebook. She smiled at us from the doorway and chuckled when I wiped my wet cheek on Bowen's shoulder.
I jumped duringIT, even though I knew the jump-scare was coming and pretended not to melt like a chocolate bar in the sun when Bowen pulled me to his chest.
I pretended I didn't notice the sun sinking lower in the sky. Or what Bowen's sigh from behind me meant when the credits roll not long after.
We haven’t talked much since the first movie started. Now it's been hours, and I still don't know what to say, but I know what I want to hear.
I told him I loved him last night.
I've shied away from the memory all day, but it's all I can think about now. He's a solid force at my back. Warm. Real. Here. But not for much longer.
He never said it back.
He said I was his heart, and that's enough. It is. But he's still silent. He's still wanting me to read between lines, and I'm still aching for him to lay it out plain and bare for me. So it’s impossible for me to misinterpret.
I want Bowen Briggs to ask me to be with him. To be his, for real, not when we're in the haze of lust. I want him to look at me right here, in another place that's full of our memories, and tell me he wants me.
Ask me to go with you. Tell me you love me.
Bowen
Say it. Sayitsayitsayit.
Kit went rigid against my chest as soon as the movie ended. That was damn near five minutes ago. I can't pull my nose from his hair long enough to say anything.
I'm scared that if I open my mouth, too much will come out.
I don't think I have ever had that fear before in my goddamn life.
So I just sit here, breathing him in. Rubbing his arms and shoulders. It does nothing to ease his tense frame.
“You're leaving, right?” His voice comes out small. I fucking hate that, too.
“I don't want to,” I murmur to him. But as soon as the words leave my mouth, he rolls away and stands. He makes grabby hands like he's trying to bundle hoodie sleeves in his fists that he doesn't have on.
