FLAME (Spark Series) (20 page)

22

His graduation ceremony was amazing. I felt so proud as I watched him walk on stage. His classmates cheered for him as he held up his diploma in victory. I took pictures from the crowd, hoping it could be a bonding moment for me and his mother. I’m so nervous to meet his family because I so desperately want their approval.

I don’t want to be that girl who follows their boyfriend halfway around the world and becomes this needy, dependent person. I want his mother to see me for who I really am—independent and genuine.

That evening after his ceremony, I escort him to a frat party where all his classmates are celebrating. It’s surreal to watch as he says goodbye to the guys he’s lived with for the past four years. But it’s also sweet. He really experienced a lot living here. His friends are genuine and tell him how amazing he is and how much they’ll miss him. I can tell they don’t want to get too sentimental, guys not wanting to come off as emotional, but I can tell. They’re going to miss him.

This morning sucks because I know he leaves out tonight for a long flight. He has one layover in Ireland, so I won’t be able to talk to him for hours until he lands there.

The moving crew that’s shipping his boxes home arrives by mid-morning. He’s left with one carry-on; one piece of his life here in America.

“This is sad,” I say, snuggling into his chest. “I’m going to miss your things lurking around here.”

“Don’t be sad for too long, Doll. Soon enough, you’ll be surrounded by
all
my manly belongings,” he jokes, poking me.

“Stop it! I hate being tickled!”
I scream as I run down the hall, so he can’t grab me.

I run into the bedroom and shut the door, but I know it’s not going to last. He barges through like a damn caveman and scoops me up. He flips us onto the bed and begins swarming me with kisses.

I laugh at his eager playfulness. He’s like a damn bear mating, venturing out for his prey. But I don’t care. I love this side of him. I love that he brings this side out in me.

“Ahh…your damn face! You need to shave!” I giggle in his body trap. He shaved a couple days ago, but his facial hair grows at
warp speed.

“Sorry, Doll. It’s staying. I need something to keep me warm at night while I’m gone.”

“Stop it. Stop saying things like that.” I give him my best pouty face, puckering my lower lip out.

He dives in and nibbles on it. “It won’t be long, I promise. We’ll be together again in no time.”

He kisses me again so I can’t respond. What started out as playful and fun soon turns into seductive and sweet. He grabs the bottom of my shirt and rips it off me. Soon my jeans and panties join on the floor next to it. We stay silent as I take my turn in undressing him. It’s hard to keep my hands and body off him; I just want him all the time.

We make love—slow and trembling love. I dig my nails into his back like I’m marking him, he sucks above my collarbone, leaving his own mark. It’s the sweetest and most depressing moment of my life. But it’s amazing. I’m still sad he’s leaving today, but knowing we’re making this next step in our lives together keeps me giddy and happy.

*   *   *

Breathe. Just breathe.

Waiting at the airport for his flight to leave is like waiting for a bomb to go off. I’m edgy and nervous, even though I know it’s coming.

“So, you’ll call me from Ireland, right? Let me know you made it there, okay?” I ask, even though we’ve been over it before.

“Yes, I’ll call you as soon as I can. It’s going to be late, though.”

“I don’t care. I won’t be able to sleep until you call me.”

“Alright.” He looks at me and smiles. “Then I’ll call you.”

I nod, keeping the tears locked in.

I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry.

“It’s okay to be sad, Doll. I’m sad, too. But I know I’ll see you soon.” He grabs my hand and squeezes it.

His flight is called shortly after. We stand up, and I let his strong arms capture me. He holds me for a moment, before the announcer calls his flight once again.

I lean back, letting his arms release me. “I love you. I guess this is where we say—”

“Don’t say goodbye, Doll,” he cuts me off. “Because this isn’t goodbye. It’s until
next
time. A
see you soon.
But not goodbye.
Never
goodbye.”

I nod, agreeing with him. I give him one more hug and lose myself in one more kiss before finally letting him go. It’s painful and bittersweet. I know it’s not the end, but this…fucking sucks.

“I left something for you. You’ll find it in your room under your pillow. I wanted you to have something to hold you over until next time,” he says sweetly.

“It’s not a blindfold, is it? A bag of butt plugs or some anal beads?”

Apparently, I’m speaking too loud as the old couple next to me turns and sneers at me.

We both laugh quietly after they walk away.

“Oops.”  I giggle nervously.

The last call for his flight is announced over the speaker, and I know this is it—he’s leaving.

“I’ll call you as soon as I land. Promise.”

I nod, holding back the tears that are threatening to flow over. “I love you.” He tilts my chin up so we’re eye to eye. “This is only temporary.”

“I know. I just miss you already.”

He kisses me, deep and passionate. It feels like home.
He’s
home for me. I’ve never felt more comfortable than when I’m with him. And now I have to watch him leave…

“I love you,” I call out as he lets go and begins walking to the ticket booth. I smile as he blows a kiss my direction. I continue staring until he’s no longer in sight.

I stand in the middle of the waiting area feeling empty. This is so much harder than I anticipated. And ridiculous. I’ll be seeing him again soon…very soon.

I try my best not to cry on the drive home, but the moment
Wrecking Ball
comes on the radio, I’m screwed. It brings back all the memories of him earlier when we weren’t speaking and how miserable I was then.

Fuck.

I hadn’t a clue then. This is real pain. Real heartbreak.

And it fucking sucks.

I’m hit with his scent as soon as I enter the apartment. I go directly to my bedroom and aim for my pillow.

Oh my god.

I sink to the bed.

It’s one of his shirts—dark navy blue V-neck with a picture of an owl.
Just an owl
. I laugh to myself as I recall the first time I saw him wearing it. I asked him why he bought it and he said it was because he’s always been a night owl, and it was fitting for him at the time he bought it. It was ironic because I had just finished a book called,
Night Owl
. It was a hot and dirty read, making me think of us—especially every time I go back to re-read it—our attraction being unstoppable and desperate.

I lift the shirt to my nose, inhaling his fresh scent. God, it smells amazing. Just like him.

I told him once it’s my favorite shirt. He confessed it’s his favorite because the owl reminds him of me—independent and mysterious—just like its symbolic meaning.

I don’t care how crazy it makes me look, but I rip my shirt off and immediately put his on. It’s about two sizes too big for me, but I don’t care. I need to feel him…to smell him…to have anything of his as close as possible.

I curl up in a ball on my bed and lay there. My heart feels completely empty and broken. No matter how soon I’ll see him, it’s not soon enough. Hell, it could be months before I’m able to move over there. Even one day is too long for me right now. I can’t understand how I became like this…needy for him, but it’s like his heart has completely molded around mine. I can still be that independent, strong-willed woman who takes no prisoners, but my aching heart doesn’t agree.

I wake up some time past midnight. I realize I’m still on top of my bed, shivering because I left the window open. It’s now raining, blowing cold air into the apartment.

I get up and close it and grab a sweatshirt on my way out to the living room. I’m starving and now wide awake. I grab my phone and hope I haven’t missed his call.

Nope. Nothing.

I check my notes to see when he’s supposed to arrive in Ireland. An hour ago?
Shit.
I check my phone for missed messages, emails, or voicemails.
Nothing.
Perhaps he doesn’t have service. Perhaps he forgot. Or he fell asleep. Or his battery died.

My mind is spinning with all the possible reasons, so I decide to order food to keep my mind off of everything.

After ordering a pizza, I collapse on the couch with the remote. I need to keep my mind busy.

I think about texting Velaney, but I doubt she’ll be awake. Lately, I’ll text her at nine, and she doesn’t respond until morning because she already fell asleep. She calls it her “pregnancy syndrome” as to why she sleeps so much.

I flip through the channels, nothing really entertaining or catching my eye this late at night. I stop on some news channel as the doorbell rings.

“That’s $14.50.”

I hand the delivery guy a twenty and tell him to keep it. If my heart is empty, at least my stomach can be filled.

Pathetic, I know. But right now, I just don’t care.

I sit back on the couch and grab my Kindle from the coffee table. I flip through the hundreds of books I have stored on there. I’m not sure I’m in the mood to read anything new tonight, so I go back to
Night Owl
. It just seems right.

I lean back and prop my feet on the table with the pizza box sitting next to me. I indulge in a late night pizza with my Kindle.
Yes…this will make me feel better—
temporarily at least.

My heart is racing and my thighs are clenching tight as I continue reading. This book is so damn hot, I really should’ve thought this through.
Note to self: Do not read erotica while boyfriend is not around.

Bad idea. Too late. I’m too engrossed in the way Matt is stalking Hannah outside her house after midnight. Although I know what’s coming and the fact that they fuck in his car shortly after, it doesn’t dim the excitement of reading it again.

I sincerely consider grabbing
Lily
and making it a night—no use in wasting my desperate need for sex. My eyes scan over my Kindle just as I catch the
Breaking News
headline that’s plastered all over the TV screen.

I drop my Kindle immediately and grab the remote, turning the volume up.

“This just in...Ireland plane crashes into the Atlantic Ocean, heading to London. Rescue crews are searching for it now. But the airline has stated it has little hope of any survivors…”

I can’t breathe. I physically can’t breathe. I stand up and dig for a brown bag in the kitchen. I bring it to my mouth and begin heaving, desperate for oxygen.

I frantically search for my notes on his plane information. “Fuck. Shit. Where the hell is it?”

I empty the contents of my purse on the kitchen table, letting everything sprawl out. “Here!” I scream, grabbing it and running back to the TV.

He should be on his flight to London already. His layover was only a half hour, barely giving him time to change flights.

I check his flight number and look back at the TV.

A match.

I swallow and close my eyes.

No.

I look again, thinking it’s not right. That can’t be right.
Airbus A322—Dublin to London.

I grab my phone and call him. Nothing. Straight to voicemail.

Fuck.

I stand up and pace the living room. This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening.

“133 passengers…” I hear the news anchor report, breaking my frantic pacing. “The pilot called in an issue just before the plane was reported missing. He said there was an issue with the engine. Officials are currently investigating what went wrong. Family members of the passengers will be notified as soon as possible.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOO! No! No! No!” I fall to my knees as the realization finally hits me. I burst into hysterics as my knees give out and soon I’m lying helplessly on the floor.

My mind is spinning. My stomach is in knots as the tears continue. I check his itinerary several times over, even though all the facts are right in front of me.

“God, no!”

I stand up and throw the first thing I see.
A statue.
I don’t even know why the fuck I have the damn thing. I watch as it crashes into a million pieces against the wall opposite me. It’s not enough. I go searching for the next thing I can throw.

It’s never enough. No matter how much I break and throw, it doesn’t change anything.

I don’t know how much time passes before I find myself on the sofa again. My eyes are bloodshot and my body is cold and shaky. I continue watching the news, hoping the anchor says
false alarm
or wrong plane. But she doesn’t.
She doesn’t.