Page 37 of Meet Me in the Blue

“You never said anything.”

“You were my best friend. I didn’t want to screw with that. I learned… I learned to shut it out, to love you the way I knew you could love me back.” His smile turned sad around the edges, and I would have done anything for a moment of privacy, for dusk, for the fort in the trees, for a room filled with silence. A place where I could tell him I wanted to go back. I wanted to know. I wanted the love he’d been too afraid to give. “Then I got over it. I survived.”

I got over it.

“With Graham?”

“He helped.”

“California?”

He let go of my hand and I didn’t fight him. “I ran away for a lot of reasons. Most of which I’ve already told you, but yeah, I didn’t think I could come back here. I was afraid I hadn’t gotten over you at all.”

“Looks like you could use some more coffee.” Charles, the diner owner, smiled down at us, refilling both of our mugs before either of us could answer. Steam billowed from the pot as Luka and I stared at each other. “Can I get you boys anything else?”

“Just the check.” Luka pulled out his wallet as Charles handed him the bill.

“How much do I—”

“My treat,” he said, but it sounded flat as he handed Charles two twenties.

“I’ll be back with your change.”

“Keep it. Thanks.”

Charles gave us both a small salute. “It’s good to see you boys again, don’t be strangers, alright?”

Once he walked away, Luka started to gather his coat, scooting toward the edge of the booth, ignoring me and the fresh cup of coffee in front of him. “We should get a move on if we—”

“Don’t do that, don’t shut me out again.”

“Rook.” He sounded tired. “I can’t do this with you. I can’t… It’s too much.” He pushed out of the booth and headed for the front door before I could say another word.

“Shit.”

It was bitter outside, the wind cutting to the bone as I stepped through the diner door. I shrugged on my jacket as I jogged down the sidewalk. Luka wasn’t too far ahead, but when I called his name, he kept walking. Panic lodged itself in my throat. I shouldn’t have said anything, shouldn’t have pushed. We’d only just begun to repair the bridge between us. How he’d felt about me when we were kids had nothing to do with how he may feel about me now.

I got over it.

I was selfish. I’d jumped without thinking.

“Luka,” I tried again, and he slowed his pace, his shoulders dipping as he exhaled a foggy breath. “Please.”

He didn’t turn around but stopped at the corner to wait for me. I stood next to him, waiting for the light to change. He didn’t speak but pressed his shoulder into mine. The knots in my muscles relaxed enough I could breathe again. A million questions buzzed and banged inside my brain, but I stayed quiet too. I didn’t want him to run. I didn’t want him to lose any more time with his dad because of old wounds, because of me. Guilt filled the chambers of my heart with every beat of my pulse. He’d stayed away, and even though he’d made that choice on his own, I’d been a variable in that decision.

The light changed, and we crossed the street, the heat of his body harder to ignore with every step. He didn’t pull away, hovering as close as he could until we were a block away from the office. Under the awning of the bookstore, he took my hand, the gesture stopping me in my tracks.

“I don’t want to shut you out,” he said, the trepidation written deep into the furrow of his brow. “I never did. But I had to, with everything, and then my dad. It was… self-preservation.”

“I understand… I shouldn’t have said—”

“Why did you ask me about Ella? Why now?”

“We’re different,” I said, the words dizzy inside my head, spinning until my stomach dropped like I’d fallen several feet, like I had thrown myself off one of the nearby cliffs and into the bay. “It took me a long time to understand it, and in some ways, I still don’t know how to explain it, how I feel about you. If… if what I want is what you want or ever wanted.”

“What do you want?” he asked, and I tugged him closer until we were almost chest to chest. I dropped his hand and raised mine to his neck, his pulse humming beneath my palm. “Rook… I can’t…”

I didn’t heed his warning, dusting the pad of my thumb along the line of his jaw and his eyes closed for one, two seconds, opening, half-lidded and sleepy. I should have stopped there, I should have pulled away, but I was in deep too. I thought I might have always been. His lips parted, a surrendered soft sound escaping his throat as I leaned in and pressed my mouth to his cheek, to the corner of his mouth, to the spot where the maple syrup had gathered. The contact warmed my cheeks, closed my eyes, and muted the world around me. I was submerged, all the sound fuzzy around the edges like I’d dunked my head underwater, and behind my eyes, all I could see was blue. Luka clenched his fingers into the fabric of my coat, and I brushed my lips over his. He tasted like sugar and falling leaves, like the month of October. He tasted familiar, like how all kisses should have tasted. There was nothing sloppy about Luka’s tongue or the way his teeth sank into my bottom lip. It was slow, the way he melted into me, the way he let me in. Every touch was infinite. It wasn’t rushing blood and fire. It was finding myself and coming home. It was years of waiting and confusion and forgiveness. I wanted this building pressure, this urge to expose every nerve as his hand slid up my chest to my neck, and his nails scratched my skin.

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