Page 54 of Just Try, Again and Again

Hearing Bryce say that makes me retreat back into my own head and replay my own memories from my early twenties.OfBryce telling me that Lily was pregnant.Although he stepped up to the plate, it never occurred to me that taking care of a child was not something that he actively signed up for. Lily was so young, but so was Bryce. They were kids raising a kid. He always had this calm and easygoing demeanor, but life must have been hard for him once Birdie was born, and I have no doubt that he never gave them anything less than one hundred percent.

A few people pass us on their bikes, causing me to scoot closer to Bryce. He puts his arm around my waist in a protective gesture, and at this moment, I feel my heart thundering in my chest. As far as first dates go, it’s hitting all the checkmarks of a successful one. Good food. Good conversation.A gentleman.

We finally come to a stop in front of a moss-green apartment building. “This is me,” I announce in front of the front door, turning my body so I'm facing him. “Thank you for the nice night. I had a lot of fun catching up.” This feels a lot like déjà vu, wondering whether he’s going to come inside with me or not. Unlike last time, I’m not a shy eighteen-year-old anymore. I know what I want, so I ask, “Do you want to come up for a drink?”

“Thank God,” he says with a grin. “I thought I was going to have to pull the I’m-too-drunk-to-walk-back-to-my-place trick again.”

I shake my head as I bite my bottom lip, trying to hide my smile that threatens to come out the whole way up to my apartment. I close the door behind me and let Bryce take in my living space. There’s a lot of dusty pink and purple—perks of living alone. The place might look extremely girly, and men might feel out of place here, but I’m proud of my apartment. I’ve paid for everything here myself by doing the thing that I love the most.

“Make yourself at home, I’ll open a bottle of wine for us.”

Bryce nods as he gives himself a tour of the place and studies the different pictures and decorations scattered all around. I quickly scan the surroundings to make sure that there isn’t any embarrassing dirty laundry hiding somewhere, and almost have a heart attack when I see the door to my home office ajar. By the way his body turns to a steel pipe under his sweater and jeans, I know he notices what’s inside. At least parts of it.Enough to know what it is.

I tell him to stop, but Bryce is faster. He takes quick steps and swings the door wide open, turning the light switch on. I blitz toward him, standing behind him, and seeing what’s hanging on the wall in front of his face. Nestled between framed photographs of a couple on a bridge and the sunrise at Paje beach in Zanzibar is a picture of Bryce. The one I took on the first day that we met. Eighteen-year-old Bryce is smiling as he clutches his sneakers, his bare feet dipped in the water.

Turning his head around, he reveals a shit-eating grin. “Haruki,” he breathes out my name in a winning voice just like he did all those years ago when he found out that I had ironed my clothes for him. “Did you spend our time apart looking at this picture every time you thought of me?”

I try to laugh. I try to come up with something smart. Instead, I just say, “No. The sunrise looks nice on it.” My blood turns into liquid heat at the embarrassment. I don’t even know why I have him blown up to triple the size of the Mona Lisa painting at the Louvre.

Bryce taps on his phone, not saying a word. The smugness is still plastered all over his face. When he finally finds what he’s looking for, he shows me his screen. It’s a picture of his own home office. “Not as nice as yours, though. But I had to make do.”

I knit my eyebrows. “Do you need tips on how to decorate?”Why is he showing me this random picture of his laptop?

“For fuck’s sake.” He snatches the phone and gives it back to me after zooming in on his desk. It’s grainy, but I see it. A small, framed picture of the same beach and the same sunrise. In the corner, I see a quarter of a head with green ombré hair. I look up to him and see hope glimmering in his eyes.

48

Bryce - 32 years old

My eyes are still transfixed on her looking at the screen.

All the love.

All the loss.

All these days that went by.

All the fucking memories that we held on to.

I save her from drowning in her own thoughts as I take my phone back from her hand, closing the distance between us. My lips touch her forehead and I feel her whole body shudder. “Don’t think about it,” I whisper. “It’s time for us to move on.”

I don’t really know what happens next. It’s all a big fat blur, literally, caused by her tears, eyeshadow, and mascara all staining my vision. I just know that the kiss that we plant on one another’s lips feels like coming home. All raw, and rough, and frantic. In her arms, with her next to me, I feel whole. And the next thing I know, we end up on her couch.

“Would it be presumptuous of me to think that this date would end with us having sex?” I ask with a throaty chuckle. She just laughs at me while her mouth dives back to mine. Urgent, but delicate. Familiar, yet different.

We peel each other’s clothes off like we’re horny teenagers, fumbling with every single button. The corners of my lips quirk, remembering jock Bryce and manic pixie queen Haruki doing something similar to this. Haruki must feel my smile on her neck because she lifts up her head to meet my eyes.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Would this be the right time to tell you that I got my dick pierced on a dare in high school? I wanted to save the conversation for the second date. Didn’t want to freak you out,” I joke before sucking on her neck and cupping one of her breasts with one hand, unclasping her bra with the other. A soft moan escapes her as I flick her nipple.

“Bryce…” she calls out my name as she tries to steady her breath while I lay her down on her back, giving me a view of her almost naked body. “Unless you have an STD that you want to tell me about, please stop with your nonsense.”

I let myself enjoy the taste of her skin, leaving a trail of kisses from her collarbone down to her stomach. My fingers slide inside the only thing that’s still covered, her slit, and feel the wetness that’s pooling.

“I miss you,” I tell her. “I miss this. I fucking miss us.”

Sliding the last garment on her body down her legs, my head finds its place between her thighs. The overpriced dinner at that organic restaurant was nothing compared to this. This, what’s right here in front of me. This is a feast. And I savor the meal in front of me, lapping up her juices and moving my tongue toward her clit, licking the bud again and again until Haruki grabs my hair and moans out my name.

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