Authors: Jessa Holbrook
Weren’t we?
~
One Sunday morning, Will climbed to my window and lured me out at dawn. The grass still damp under our feet, he led me to the woods that separated our neighborhoods.
The “woods” wasn’t much in the way of wilderness. The trees were just thick enough that you couldn’t see the fenced backyards on either side of it. Mostly, it was a shortcut that little kids used, their worn dirt paths marking the way. Sweet, trilling birds greeted the sunrise with unusual melodies. My hand fit in Will’s perfectly as we walked deeper along the path.
“There’s rain coming,” Will said.
We both smelled it in the heavy air. It was evident in the scarlet streaks the morning sun made across the clouds. Though there was no danger at all, I pressed closer to Will. I curled my arms around one of his, and kissed his shoulder. “Red sky by morning, sailor take warning.”
Sharing a secretive smile with me, Will said, “Still holding on to that whole wisdom thing, Athena?”
“Forever,” I replied.
Then, he stopped me with a kiss. Just a taste, a promise for more later. And when he pulled back, he turned me to face an unexpected clearing in the woods. The brambles and thorns wound around the trees now instead of spilling across the ground. A thin carpet of grass blanketed the ground, the blades glittering with dew.
“Call me crazy,” Will said, taking a step into the clearing. Pulling me with him. Unexpectedly, he sank to the ground and pulled me into his lap. He gathered me in his arms, his cheek rough against my hair. “But I thought you’d want to see this.”
It took me a moment to realize what I was looking at. Then, all at once, the light changed. Subtle shadows traced the ground, revealing rings of mushrooms. Creamy brown, no bigger than my pinkie nail, they looped and whorled in the thin grass. Spider webs wove along the ground. Dew hung on the gossamer threads, catching the light like diamond chips.
Enthralled, I murmured, “How did you know this was here?”
With a roll of his shoulder, Will buried his face against my hair. “I woke up and I needed to see you.”
“I like how this starts,” I said.
Will rewarded me with a kiss. Then he tightened his arms around me, warm and possessive. “So I started to get in my car, but then I saw the old path. Something told me,
Will, go that way
.”
“You know, that’s how people in horror movies end up dead,” I joked.
Snorting, Will nudged me. “I wasn’t looking for a cat. I didn’t tell anybody I’d be back. And most importantly: I didn’t run through here in bare feet and pajamas.”
Amused, I twisted in his arms. I fit so comfortably in them. Noses brushing, I couldn’t stop glancing down at his lips. But since he’d lured me out before brushing my teeth, I managed to resist. “All kidding aside, Will, thank you.”
“For what?”
How could I explain it? Meeting his gaze, I lost my breath. But I managed to speak all the same. “For knowing I’d want to see this. For being amazing. For loving me.”
“You make it easy, Sarah.”
Will wound one of my curls around his fingers. His studied expression swept over my face. All the teasing softened to emotion. The clearing became a quiet chapel, a sacred place for just the two of us. These were the moments I never tried to describe.
How could I possibly explain the way my blood changed course to match Will’s? No one else would understand the fragile weight of the air when Will’s bravado melted to reveal his heart beneath. So I never explained. I just lived in these moments when they came, and clung to them once they’d passed.
~
When the last day of our summer came, I sat in my front window and remembered those kisses in the clearing. The silvery perfection of his smile captured in the glass of the diving window. The sulfur still hanging in the air as we made love beneath a sky full of fireworks. The warmth of his body next to mine as we filled out my college application together.
I wrapped those memories around me like a cloak. It was still August, the hottest part of summer, so it didn’t seem fair when the black Miata turned down our street. It wasn’t a car meant for packing up and going anywhere. It trailed heavy in the back end. The passenger seat was crammed so full of stuff, the window looked more like a picture frame. Just seeing his car loaded up that way made me want to cry.
“So this is it,” Grace said.
She’d walked so softly that I hadn’t heard her come up behind me. Concern etched her brow. Clutching a mug, she hovered close to the hallway instead of coming over to me.
Hopping up, I said, “I’ll see him in a couple of weeks.”
Grace offered a painful smile. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away. As bad as I felt for her, I sort of wished we were kids again so I could pull her hair and threaten to tell Mom. I was nervous enough about the future. Sometimes it felt like Grace was deliberately trying to make it worse.
I wanted to be a good girlfriend. I didn’t want to be angry. Or upset, even though that’s how I felt. This was the last time I’d see Will for a while, and I wanted to send him away happy. Happyish. After a few more breaths, I was either calm or hyperventilating. I threw open the front door and bounded down the walk to meet Will.
“I’m stuck,” he said sheepishly.
Approaching the window, I leaned in and laughed. Somehow, he’d gotten his seat belt tangled with a nest of computer cables. Those cables snaked into the tightly packed block of
stuff
that filled the car. Some of it was obviously furniture. Some of it, clothes. But the rest? Who knew. It was a crazy Picasso of a pack job.
With a teasing smile, I said, “Don’t get any ideas.” Then I leaned over him, right through the window. I felt his breath against the curve of my breast as I tamed the cable beast. The car door dug into my ribs. Halfway to dizzy, I finally managed to unsnarl him from his own trap. Sliding back out again, I opened the door and stepped back with a flourish. “Ta-da.”
Almost as soon as the door opened, Will was out of it. He engulfed me in his arms. Newly aware of his scent, I buried my face against his shoulder.
Tears rose up, violent and certain. I twisted my fingers in his shirt and blindly sought a kiss.
I kept making deals with myself, or the universe: one more kiss, and I can let go. One more whispered I love you, and I can wave and say goodbye. It was never one, and I didn’t think I could do it. The only thing that centered me was the tension coiled in Will’s body. He clung to me just as desperately. It felt like he wanted to wrench us both to pieces.
“We’ll Skype every night,” he promised. When he pulled his head back to look at me, I was stunned to see tears in his eyes, too. His pretty mouth contorted; he was better at holding things back. He was trying to be strong, for both of us.
I nodded vehemently. “Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, texts, I’ll be there.”
“Nobody’s on Facebook anymore,” he said, trying to joke.
In reply, I hiccupped a sob. I thought it was going to be laughter, but instead, this awful sound rolled out of me. Like a strangled wail, it hung heavily between us, a dark and desolate sound.
“Hey,” he said, catching my face between his hands. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry, okay? We aren’t breaking up. There’s nothing to be sad about. You can’t fight destiny.”
Because he said it, it was true. For that brief, bright moment, I was unafraid. I saw us on the other side of this—the two of us traveling the world. Stealing kisses in the shadows of ancient monuments, waking up on the banks of famous rivers. That’s what waited for us, our destiny. The two of us, together.
Then the light went out. Will swept me up in another kiss. Instead of spiced, it was salted. The passion in it was dark, nothing but despair. It was a kiss that said goodbye in a thousand terrible ways. Then suddenly, I was cold. Will tore himself away from me. Deliberate. Desperate.
With one look back, he tried to say something. All that came out was a faint, mourning whisper. His lips shaped the three words, but nothing more.
“I love you, too,” I said, my voice broken.
The edges of his strength crumbled. Revving the engine, he didn’t pull out so much as race away. The tires screeched against the pavement. Burned oil lingered in his wake. Wrapping my arms around myself, I stared at the distance growing between us, his car growing smaller. I kept on staring at nothing when he turned and disappeared from sight.
I stared into the mocking blue sky as the ground gave way beneath me. Sinking to sit on the curb, I tried to make myself so small. Like maybe if I could just fold myself up tight enough, it would stop hurting.
Now that he had gone, I let myself go. Great, jagged sobs tore through me. When I closed my eyes, they only got worse. Because when I closed my eyes, I couldn’t summon a single beautiful memory. They lingered just out of reach, taunting me with their happiness.
“Come back to me,” I whispered. But it was too late. Will—my Will—was gone.
I
t looked like my music room had exploded.
Paper covered every available surface. Approximately nine million Sharpies in various colors spilled across the floor like rainbow shrapnel. Jane had not one, not two, but
three
laptops linked together.
I sat perched in my favorite chair with my feet tucked neatly beneath me. I didn’t dare put my feet on the ground. One wrong step and I would destroy my best friend’s storyboard.
“I’m shooting for twenty-five minutes,” Jane said.
“Is that including credits?”
“Probably?” Then she shook her head. “No. I’m going to do a clean reel with B-roll footage.”
I dutifully scrawled that answer down on my iPad, though I had to admit I didn’t know what any of it meant.
My stylus swirled across the tablet screen.
Just as I scribbled in
opening and closing credits separate
,
a blue bird icon popped up.
Dorm life is definitely better with good sheets. #sleepinglate
He’d only been gone six days, and he was already waxing philosophical on dorm life? So cute. Since Jane had gone to that weird headspace that was “figuring out the shot list,” I sent a quick reply.
Lucky sheets. #jealous
Instantly, Will replied.
Lonely sheets
. Then, to illustrate just how lonely they were, he tossed in a link to a selfie.
Sprawled back on a narrow twin bed, Will gazed right into the camera. The insane, icy blue of his eyes popped against his pillow. He touched a fingertip to his cheek. Lush lips turned down in an exaggerated frown—he tagged it
#missingyou
. It was the perfect comeback.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Jane exclaimed.
Startled, I held up a hand. “I haven’t moved!”
She paced just inside the living room. Every step ruffled the sheets on the floor, which made me weirdly nervous. I kept waiting for them to fly out of order. Then what would happen? Bolts of freak lightning from the sky? An epic, seizured meltdown?
Jane pulled her hair back and scanned for something in particular. Then, she lunged. I actually flinched, which made me laugh.
The blue bird bubbled to the top of my screen again. I stole just one glance at it while I waited.
Hey, Athena, wanna go for a tour?
A link taunted me. Splitting my attention between Jane and Will, I touched the screen to load the picture. At the same time, I looked back up at Jane. “What are you doing?”
“I want to establish this with postcard pictures,” she said. I was completely lost, so she explained, “You know, all the scenic things that they put on the brochures and stuff. Come to East River—it’s not as lame as you think.”
“Ohhh, like the Arts Garden.”
“Exactly!” Jane stepped over her storyboard, then stopped abruptly. One foot hung in the air, like she was playing an arcane version of Twister that only she understood. “And the botanical garden, and the Pattens’ boathouse.”
She was so distracted that I peeked down at Will’s latest picture. He’d gotten out of bed and pulled on a green St. P-Windsor sweatshirt. His hair stuck out at odd angles. From the jaunty tilt of his smile, he was just fine with that.
A funny little pang opened in my chest. It was ridiculous to be sad that he was wearing a new shirt. Completely insane to be jealous that other girls were going to get to see him in all his rumpled glory. But I felt it all the same.
He was handsome all of the time. It’s just, there was something especially irresistible when he had a case of bedhead first thing in the morning. Though for him, first thing in the morning was two in the afternoon for me.
The room got too quiet. A little too late, I realized that Jane had said something and was waiting for me to reply. Swiping the picture off the tablet screen, I said, “Sorry, what?”
“Don’t even,” Jane said. “I will literally kill you with my own two hands and bury you at the quarry if you turn into
that person
.”
A blush colored my cheeks. Putting the iPad aside, I wrapped my arms around my knees. “I know, I know. The one who gets a boyfriend and disappears. I’m not, I promise. I just miss him. I’m trying to get used to it.”
Bright, Jane said, “I have an idea that will make you feel better.”
I leaned forward. “Yeah?”
“You could commit to a project with somebody awesome.”
I laughed. “Man, I don’t know. Where would I find somebody like that in East River?”
With a great step over her storyboards, Jane bounded from the room. Already halfway down the hall, she called back. “Try looking in your kitchen. Bitches like that are starving artists. They’re probably going to decimate this whole container of hummus.”
Quick as I could, I texted Will.
With Jane. Tour rain check? Will make it up to you tonight.
In a testament to my deep and abiding love for Jane Dubinsky, I left the tablet behind without waiting for a reply.
~
After my shower that night, I hopped online while I squeezed the water out of my hair with a towel. It usually took forever to get it dry enough to sleep on.
That meant I had plenty of time for a tour of St. P-Windsor. Rather than contacting Will on Twitter, I sent a private message. It was one thing to flirt and tease in public, but I wanted some alone time with him, even if only digitally. Skimming my fingers over the screen, I shot off a message into the dark.
I return triumphant, with my rain check.
Hey
, he replied.
BRT, 2 min. Skype?
I answered by opening the app. Setting my status to away, I waited for Will to appear. A little bleat caught my attention, a message coming in over chat. Touching the screen to bring it up, I felt a leaden weight in my belly. It wasn’t Will. It was Dave. He didn’t say hello. There were no pleasantries. A single line popped up, clipped and business-like.
Checking gig calendar, are we still on for later this month?
My fingers hovered over the screen. Once it was obvious that I really had moved on to somebody else, that there had been somebody else while we were still dating, Dave had gotten a little weird. Our texts were supposed to be about business now, and they were. But there was a definite frost that rimed them.
Our calendar had been empty for most of the summer. I’d been splitting my free time between Will and writing music for myself. The longer the silence spread between us, the more uncomfortable it got. So I stared at Dave’s question for a long time before finally answering. It was a get-out-of-Dasa-free card. He offered it up bloodlessly.
It should have been easy to take it. I even typed out
Maybe we should cancel so they have time to replace us
. For some reason, I just couldn’t hit send. In my mind, I saw Dave’s face so clearly. Shadows crossed his beachy good looks. He probably had his lips pressed into a tight, pale line.
Dave almost never wrote music entirely on his own. I had songs that were mine, but with the exception of a few experimental ambient tracks he put together on his keyboard, the only music Dave had belonged to us both. It was unfair to cut him off like that. He had always fronted like he was the talented one, the star quality—but I was starting to realize that perhaps he needed me even more than I thought I’d needed him.
Glancing over my desk, I stopped to look at some of the leftover paperwork from my Michigan application. I skimmed the sheet, a partial CV that listed all my performance experience. All of it, every single bit of it, was something I’d done with Dave.
I changed my response.
Yep. Looking forward to it. You?
The reply didn’t match my question.
Great, thanks. TTYL.
Before I could type anything else, Dave went offline. My stomach felt oily sick, but I shook it off. It made sense that things might be a little strained right now. It would be fine, I decided. Once we got on stage and got back to the music, it would be smooth and easy like it always was.
Peeling the towel from around my body, I tossed it toward the bathroom. Stripped naked and still damp, I actually let out a little peep when the connection tone in Skype blared to life. Blushing, I sat down quickly. I arranged the screen so Will saw me from the shoulders up and accepted his call.
The video stuttered. The screen was too dark; I heard people talking and laughing in the background. Suddenly, the video brightened. A blur of motion filled the screen, replaced a moment later with Will. His hair was still a mess, and his face was flushed pink. It looked like he’d been out running or something.
“There you are!” I exclaimed. I was relieved. Though I’d had to rain check him, I was afraid things would get too cool or too fun for him to catch up with me later. Even the
BRT
hadn’t erased that anxiety entirely. Now I could relax and settle in with him.
A little out of breath, Will pushed his dark hair off his forehead as he settled in. “Yeah, sorry about that. There’s a club fair out on the quad, I was checking it out.”
At the same time, I was checking
him
out. With glass between us, he couldn’t see me straight-up objectifying him. A wicked thrill ran through me. It zinged beneath my skin and sweetened my blood. Apparently, my body didn’t care that Will was four hours away. It wanted a taste of him while his skin was still flush and earthy with sweat.
“Find anything?” I asked, my toes curling a little.
He shook his head, the picture finally stabilizing. Behind him, I could make out a desk and a computer. It was the most generic dorm background possible. “Eh, I don’t know. I was mostly window shopping.”
The picture flickered, the connection threatening to fade. I embarrassed myself by moaning out loud. “No, don’t go away!”
After another patch of static, Will reappeared. “I don’t know what the deal is. I have five full bars.”
I wrapped my arms around myself. Fully exposed to the air, I was a little chilly. My wicked thoughts warmed me from the inside, but they did nothing for the outside. Standing up, I covered the camera with my hand for a second. “That’s just me, hold on a sec.”
“Where are you taking me?” he asked.
Shameless, I replied, “To bed.”
“Oh, I didn’t know it was that kind of Skype.”
With a laugh, I shot him down instantly. “Sorry, sailor.”
Now that he’d mentioned it, I couldn’t help but wonder. Will had seen me stripped to the skin before, but I wasn’t about to give him a sexting show. It was one thing to be alone with somebody I loved. Putting on a striptease all alone in my room? I’d never done anything like that, and the idea made me slightly embarrassed. A random, singsong thought wound through my head: maybe not
today
, but maybe
someday
. . . ?
My blush deepened. Picking up the tablet, I held it at an angle that captured my chin and my nostrils, but definitely not my bare skin. Carrying Will to bed, I dropped into my soft summer blanket and tried to tug it around me. “Okay, all settled in. Can you see me?”
With a lilt in his voice, he seemed to rake his gaze all over me. “Well, I see some of you.”
“I just got out of the shower,” I explained.
Will pointed down, asking playfully, “Pics or it didn’t happen.”
“No pics,” I snorted. “No Snapchats, no video. Sorry.”
He glowed with a smile. “Gotcha. Ask again later.”
At once, I was exasperated and amused. And it was just like he was in the room with me. While I couldn’t
touch
him, everything else was the same. The joking, the easy flow of conversation . . . we still had that. My body was on a slow burn, acting like it had a chance to twine around his tonight. The ache between my thighs urged me to bare skin so he would come closer. My brain helpfully reminded it that he couldn’t. Careful to keep myself covered, I slid out to lie on my side in bed. Propping my iPad against a pillow, I settled in.
“You promised me a tour.”
“That’s right,” he said, standing up. “I did. Sorry, okay, so this is the dorm room.” He waved the phone around so fast, I caught nothing but smears of color. “My roommate’s
not
here right now. He’s at Robot Boxing, and that tells you everything you need to know about Antwon.”
Propping my chin in my hand, I watched as Will plotted his path. He carried the phone out in front of him. No longer in the shot, Will narrated the hallway while I tried not to get queasy from all the shaky-cam.
“This is the hall I live on. The RAs decorated all the doors before we got here. There’s a robot for Antwon right there. And for me, a pair of tennis rackets.”
They looked more like fat, white mittens—but it was the thought that counted, right? Twisting my hair over my shoulder, I laughed softly. “You want to know what’s funny? I mean, I know you played tennis and golf at East River. But if I were cutting out construction paper to represent you, that’s the last thing I would have put on there.”
“Do tell,” Will said, carrying me on down the hall. I caught glimpses of whiteboards already filled with notes. People’s feet clopped by in flip-flops.
I tried not to get distracted by the scenery. “I mean, you were class vice president. Why not a flag? Or a stock chart, since you’re a business major.”
“A red Solo cup,” he countered, turning the camera to face him. He grinned, tossing his head back. “You know that’s my actual rep.”
Rising above, I informed him, “Maybe, but inaccurate. Root beer bottles would have worked better.”
Will blew me a kiss, then turned the camera into the hall again. Approaching the elevator doors, he flashed me toward a room I couldn’t quite see. “Laundry over there.”
Once he said that, I made out the sounds of dryers rumbling. They hadn’t been at school all that long. It made me wonder who already had a whole load to run. Maybe there had been a soda accident or something. A girl laughed, her voice muzzy, disappearing into the mechanical hum.
“How long are they allowed to stay?”
“Who?” Will asked. The elevator dinged, and he stepped inside. “Next stop, the common room. And my tiny, tiny mailbox. You should send me things. It’s empty and sad.”