The giggle that escapes me sounds relieved and only a tiny bit crazed.“A graveyard in Scotland was definitelynoton my list of places I thought we might kiss.”
Graeme eases me back so he can look at me, revealing an unexpected playful glint in his eyes.“You’ve thought about us kissing?”he asks.“And when you say ‘list’ do you mean aliterallist like the ones I’ve seen you make a million times or—”
I wrench out of his grip and smack his shoulder.He laughs, catching my hand and holding it against his chest.This moment could have been supremely awkward, but he’s not letting that happen, and I love him for that.God help me, I just love him, period.It makes me fight opposing urges: the first is to throw myself into his arms.The second is far more dramatic and would involve me running toward the exit and telling him not to follow.
“I’ve thought about kissing you too,” he says when I don’t respond.“I could lie and say it was only once or twice, but it must be in the hundreds now, if not the thousands.”
I swallow hard, unable to form words past the lump in my throat.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he says.“Shouldn’t have kissed you either.We don’t have much time left together, and the last thing I want is to fuck up our friendship.You’re so precious to me, Abby.I’m sorry if this will make things awkward between us now.”
Something about the way he says ‘you’re precious to me’ makes me want to break down in tears.His expression is pained, and I don’t think he realizes how hard he’s clutching my hand to his chest.I free myself from his grip, but only to press my palm flat over his heart.“I’mnot sorry.About the kiss or about you telling me you’ve thought about kissing me.”
The tension eases from around his eyes, and his shoulders drop slightly.The sound of shrill laughter startles us both; two women are running up the path nearby with their jackets over their heads to protect them from the downpour.
“The rain could stop in the next thirty seconds or carry on until tomorrow,” Graeme says.“How do you feel about heading home to regroup, and we can figure out a plan for the evening from there?”
His use of the word ‘home’ sends a wave of warmth into my chilled extremities.“Yeah.Let’s go home.”
He takes my hand, and we dart out into the rain.
* * *
We pause on the second-floor landing outside the MacKinlays’ flat.I shake my head.I need to change into dry clothes, but I’m afraid if I’m alone right now, I’ll spiral and come up with excuses why I can’t go out with Graeme tonight.We held hands the entire twenty-minute walk home, and our fingers are still laced together.We’ve held hands a million times before, but there’s something different about it now.
Without a word, we carry on up the stairs to the top floor, where Graeme lets us into his flat.He asks if I’d like to take a shower to warm up, and when I decline, he brings me a towel and a stack of dry clothes.As I don his hoodie and sweatpants, I’m reminded of the evening a few weeks ago when he found me after my break-up with Tripp, and took me back to his place.I felt warm and safe and comfortable that night, and I feel all those things now, but they’re paired with a buzzing sensation beneath my skin.
The kettle is boiling when I pass the kitchen, although Graeme is nowhere in sight.I smile to myself when I see he’s set a package of Jaffa Cakes next to a pair of mismatched mugs.As Morna pointed out the other day, I haven’t bought many souvenirs during my time here, so I plan to pack as many UK snacks into my suitcase as I can, including at least one package of these orange and chocolate treats.
I make two cups of tea, tuck the box of Jaffa Cakes under my arm, and head for the living room.There’s still no sign of Graeme, so I take my tea and stand in front of the window.The rain has stopped—because of course it has, now that we’re inside—and a rainbow arches over Arthur’s Seat in the distance.The sight is so beautiful it makes my heart ache.
Graeme clears his throat from behind me.I turn to find him standing in the doorway, wearing a cozy-looking blue sweater and dark jeans.I’m momentarily confused by his concerned expression until I blink, and tears dart down my face.
I let out a self-deprecating laugh as I wipe them away.He comes further into the room, and I motion to the table where I set his tea.He murmurs a thank-you, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I’m not ready to leave,” I say, deciding honesty is best.If anyone understands, it’ll be Graeme.He always understands.“I expected to love Scotland, but I didn’t expect to love it this much.I feel like a different version of myself here—one I never knew existed before.”
“Any other reason you don’t want to leave?”He’s standing a few feet away, his hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans.I get the impression he wants to touch me, and this is his way of ensuring he doesn’t.
My cheeks heat, but I resist the urge to look away.“I think you know the answer to that.”
He nods slowly.“Then why don’t you stay?”
I laugh again, and Graeme’s lips twitch.“You know I can’t do that.The rest of us have graduation in a few weeks, and you know how Drew feels about us attending.Plus, I’ve got a job and an apartment already lined up in Toronto.I can’t just walk away from that new life before it even starts.”
“I’d argue it would be easier to walk away from it nowbeforeit starts,” Graeme says.“But that’s not what I meant.All of those things are weeks away yet.Why don’t you change your flight and stay for another couple of weeks?My parents are leaving for Skye in a few days, but you can stay here with me.You can explore more of the city, and we can take a few day trips when I’m not working.”
My mind flashes to the kiss Graeme and I shared earlier.If I agreed to stay—which seems like an absolutely bonkers, unrealistic idea—what would I stayas?Would we be the best friends we’ve been since day one, or would we be...something more?
“I’m not ready to say goodbye to you yet, Abby.”He closes the space between us and takes my mug from me, setting it aside and wrapping his warm hands around mine.“I’ll never be ready, but there’s no reason we couldn’t have a bit more time.”
I’ll never be ready.There’s a hint of pleading in his expression, mixed with something I’ve never seen before.Except that’s not entirely true; Ihaveseen it, but I’ve never let myself acknowledge it.It’s a mix of hope, longing, and affection, with a touch of heat.
“I...don’t know what to say.”It sounds pathetic, even though it’s the truth.
“Okay then,” Graeme says slowly.“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
