Page 14 of When We Meet Again

Stress of the day—or the year—melts off of me as we lie silently, covered by the puffy blankets. The warmth of her body is a subtle reminder that I’m not alone. I’m with someone whom I used to be able to call my closest friend.

“I forgot to tell you,” I reluctantly break the silence. “I’m filming a time-lapse of the sky on my GoPro for you to have.” I point to the edge of the gate and her eyes light up.

Another few minutes pass. “Where do you think we go when we die, Rome?”

“I…” I’m stumped. Before Patrick died, I never thought of there being some ‘higher power’. I never really thought about it at all. I was too focused on securing any college class that didn’t start before noon so I could still party the night before. I was too concerned with who my next lay was going to be. And then I graduated, started a business. The same priorities were still there, but instead, I didn’t have anyone to answer to. So, where do I think we go when we die?

“I think…” my voice cracks. I don’t know what to think. Ican’tthink that he’s just gone. His body is missing in the ocean and that’s the end of it?No.For me to make it through this, I need to believe my big brother’s spirit is happy. Wherever he is, he’s happy. It’s the only peace I have within myself.

Waverly sits up next to me and lays her hand on my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just curious. It’s hard to recognize something existing if you’ve never seen it for yourself. But it’s almost necessary to believe there is more after death…you know? So we can find peace in the loss.”

You took the words right out of my mouth.

I nod.

She lies back down, but this time she’s closer. Her hand brushes mine and she doesn’t bother moving it away. The touch of her skin sears mine and adds fuel to a fire I didn’t know was burning.

“Can I ask you a question, Rome?”

“You don’t need to ask if you can ask me a question, Kensi. What’s up?”

She sits up once more, her hair tousled from the breeze. “Would it be weird if I got a picture of us? I mean, not of us because it’sus, but because this has been on my bucket list for a while, and I have this idea—I get a picture of who I’m with and I can use it in my journal.” She’s rambling and it’s adorable. It’s what she would always do when she was nervous. Some old habits die hard. “I want to be able to look back when I’m old and remember these moments. And if I turn out like Ally inThe Notebook, I can look at my journals and appreciate the moments that the woman in the photo had. Moments that made her smile like she hadn’t a care in the world. Like the person she was with gave her the sunlight, when all she could see was darkness.”

Waverly Kensington was, and still is, a knockout. There is no possible way to describe her beauty. Her face could be clear of makeup, and she is drop-dead gorgeous. When she’s done up for a party or event, she’s extraordinary. Waverly’s untouchable when it comes to intellect, but her words…it’s a sentimental side of her I’ve never seen. Absentmindedly, I tuck a tendril of rogue hair behind her ear, and she tenses. So I pull back. “I’m sorry,” I let the silence hang in the air momentarily before I cave and break it. “Yes, of course, we can get a picture.” I grab my phone from the front seat through the back slider window, unlock it, and lean on one elbow next to her. “Mind if I get close?”

“Well, I need you to be in the picture, and your wingspan is pretty short, so…” she pokes.

I wrap my arm under her and tap my fingers over the sensitive skin of her ribs, as I growl, “My wingspan is short?” Even covered with clothing, she’s ticklish.Noted.She belts out a loud laugh and digs her head against my chest, trying to push me away. My fingers still as I chastise her, “You’re going to miss the picture if you don’t stop laughing.” She rolls her eyes but looks up at the camera and I snap the live photo.

Picture taken, she wriggles away, putting a little more distance between us, while I look at the photo. The genius thing about live photos is you can get maybe five good pictures out of one snap. I drag the square from left to right and back until I find the perfect picture pose.

“This one.” I hand over my phone for her approval. It looks as if she’s hugging me as I’m holding her. No tickling. No pushing my chest with her head. A genuine smile into the camera from both of us. A happy couple.As if that could ever happen.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” She hands the phone back to me and waits expectantly, as if waiting for me to open Instagram immediately.

I know my generation has a knack for documenting everything on social media, but I don’t want to miss this night. It’s different. I don’t know if it’s because I’m with the woman I measure everyone against, or because being around her makes me feel closer to Patrick. Whateveritis, I want to experience itnow, so I place my phone back in the front and lie down again. “This time of year, the sun comes up in about an hour.”

“Oh. Do you want to leave?” she asks, and I can’t read her tone.

“That’s up to you. Are you tired?”

She shrugs. “I am. But would you mind if we stayed and watched the sunrise?”

I look into the sky. “It’syourbucket list, sweetheart.”

Waverly grants me a faint smile and then leans forward to grab both flasks, handing me one. She raises hers up in toast and I follow, holding my own flask high in the air. “To stars and sunrises.”

She counters, “To awakenings.”

CHAPTER 9

WAVERLY

Fortunate: Roman helped me check something off my bucket list.

Unfortunate: I had to send my new plant to a plant-rehab. I have a black thumb.

It wasn’thard to convince Roman to stay and watch the sunrise. We have a shot of whiskey, and then one more, before eating half the tub of popcorn. And before too long, the sun pokes out of the horizon like our personal alarm clock.Time to go.

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