Page 18 of Meet Me Back Here

He thinks about it a moment before answering.

“I liked seeing the stars. I thought what we had here at night was all there was, but there were so many more stars out in the woods. It was really cool,” he says, looking up, like he could see through our sheet, past the clouds, and all the way into outer space.

When he sighs, he sounds like a grown-up.

“Maybe I can convince Mom to send me to an indoor camp next year. The only wild thing I want to be around is you,” Forrest mutters, and I immediately burst out laughing, even as Forrest tries to take the words back.

“I shouldn’t have said it like that. I meant it as a good thing, but it sounded mean.” Forrest looks horrified, the poor boy. He squeezes my hand.

“Forrest, don’t be silly. I know you wouldn’t be mean to me,” I say. “Besides, I like being wild.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

ok, but who was that other guy?

PRESENT

Traffic isn’t bad, and we get to Logan in about an hour, taking I-90 into the city, through the Ted Williams Tunnel, and right to the airport. Obviously, my parents are familiar with my house, and Jigsaw is the most low-maintenance cat ever, so there aren’t any last-minute reminders to go through, and the ride gives me quiet time to continue overthinking everything. I do suggest my parents buy a lottery ticket on their way back to the house since it’s a damn miracle we didn’t hit traffic or any of the usual Boston chaos.

Our goodbye with my parents would be quick and easy—the happy pre-trip excitement mixed with the kinda sad I’ll-miss-you feeling—if not for Mom’s very suggestive eyebrow waggle when she says she hopes Forrest and I have the best time. I ignore it and pray Forrest doesn’t see.

I’m usually running up to my gate as they’re calling my boarding group, but we planned today for Forrest’s timeline, which apparently includes getting to the airport early enough to take a flight somewhere else, come back, and still have time to get a snack before we get on our plane. After we check our bags, we head through security and get two seats right in front of the gate—since nobody is here. Then we wait. And wait. And wait. And wait.

Just when I start getting jittery, Forrest reaches into his bag and pulls out a brand-new book of games. Silently, he hands it to me. When we were little, these were my favorites. I’d sit in our treehouse for hours going page by page through books just like this one. There are probably still boxes of half-finished ones somewhere in the attic at the house. Word searches, sudoku, logic games. I love them all, except for crosswords.

“Ooh! Thank you!” I say, doing a little happy dance in my seat as I take it. His eyes crinkle when he smiles back at me. He sets his elbow on the armrest between us, a light weight against the side of my forearm.

As I flip through the pages to see what options we’ve got, I notice some are ripped out. When I look back at Forrest, I see him unfold a stack of torn-out crosswords and prop them on his knee.

Forrest once said we’re like pieces of a puzzle, fitting together around each other.

I wonder if this is what he meant. I wonder if he still thinks it.

Considering how much he’s grown and how his life has changed since our breakup, plus the fact that he now dates women who aren’t me, I expect not. I expect he tries to think very little about the things he said when we were together.

But I think it’s still there. Even just as friends, I think we go together.

Getting to the airport so early does leave time for us to get food and eat before the flight, a good thing since we’ll be in the air for dinnertime. There are no rules for food on travel days, so we share a hodgepodge of hot cheese puffs, salty fries, a BLT, and a Caesar salad. Forrest is getting rid of the remnants of our feast when boarding finally starts. I’ve also completed three sudoku puzzles and a word search.

When we get to our row, I pull my laptop out before Forrest slides the messenger bag into the overhead bin for me, right beside his backpack. He keeps a book and his crosswords with him, and that’s it. I still have my over-stuffed purse full of things I won’t need but couldn’t imagine not having within arms-reach, and Forrest’s over here practically rawdogging a cross-country flight.

What’s he going to do? Sit alone with his thoughts? I could never.

As we slide into opposite sides of our row, I theatrically salute him.

“See you in six hours, soldier,” I say.

Forrest shakes his head at my antics but smiles nonetheless. Shortly after we sit, a couple that had been happily chatting away as they boarded takes the two aisle seats between us. Whenever they can, they continue leaning across the aisle to whisper to each other, the woman beside me giggling and blushing like a new bride when the man beside Forrest tenderly brushes her hair out of her face.

It’s incredibly sweet if still disruptive to the boarding process.

The woman checks something on her phone that seems to displease her before returning to her canoodling.

Across the way, Forrest leans forward just enough for me to catch his uncomfortable expression, and I have to basically shove my fist in my mouth to keep from laughing. Even though these two are in public, it does feel a bit like we’re intruding.

“No, you should. Really,” the man’s whispers get a little louder.

“Ok. Fine… I will,” she acquiesces before they part, and she turns toward me.