Page 31 of See You Next Winter
Shit.
He pulls back, cupping my face to tip it up to his. “You want to keep talking?”
“If you do?” There’s a half-second where I swear my heart stops, so convinced he’s going to say no, I scramble to argue my case. “We’ll still be just friends, obviously. We can keep to the same arrangement as always, but with, I don’t know, the occasional hello.”
“How occasional?” The tip of his nose strokes up and down the length of mine.
“I don’t need you to call me every day,” I tell him, though I already know I’ll be tempted to.
“What if I’m a menace and I text you all the time?”
“Do you want my number or not, asshole?”
He kisses one corner of my mouth, then the other. “Best friend I ever had.”
He delves into his jacket pocket, unlocks his phone and hands it over. With bleary eyes, I’m not even sure I know what numbers are right now.
“You’d better call me in case I typed it wrong.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I try not to laugh while I add Ryan Richmond to my contacts for the first time. This is a thing you do with strangers, not a man you’ve known your whole life, who’s seen you in your best and worst moments, your most naked and vulnerable.
He pulls me in close again, opening the front of his jacket so I can slip my hands inside and around his back.
“I miss you already,” I tell him. I’m so close to confessing what I wished for on the first firework, but it won’t make a difference.
“Kayla,” he whispers against my hair. “It’s you in every world. You know that, right?”
Every world except this one.
When we finally let go, Hannah is waiting to give me a hug goodbye, with tears in her eyes, too. Part of me feels sad we didn’t get to hang out much this winter. Ryan and I were always closer, but she’s been a good friend, especially in those years he didn’t come home.
“I feel like I've barely seen you this trip,” I sob, and she chuckles softly against my shoulder.
“I was kind of pre-occupied.”
Knowing she’s willingly getting herself into a similar long-distance situation makes me feel a kind of twisted bond with her, even though she's much happier about it than I am.
“Are you OK?” she asks.
“What the fuck is wrong with us, Han?” I laugh, wiping my eyes behind her back. Mascara was a mistake, I must look ridiculous. “They’re just boys.”
“Boys we love,” she offers, as if that excuses crying in the airport.
“We’ve never said that to each other,” I whisper into her hair, and she squeezes me tighter.
“Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”
Any time I’ve come even close to entertaining thoughts of love, I’ve shoved them deep, deep down. That’s not for us. Who in their right mind would let themselves fall in love with someone who lives so far away?
Now I live here permanently, it’s worse than ever. It’s so much easier to be the one who leaves. Ryan gets to fly home, go back to work, his friends, his life. Being the one who goes back to an empty apartment is a unique hell.
How am I supposed to sleep in my bed tonight, on a pillow that still smells like him, knowing it will be months until he comes back? How am I supposed to go about my daily life feeling like a part of me is missing? No amount of hiking or beer or cheese will fill the void.
“Right, this is embarrassing now,” I say, letting her go and wiping my eyes. “You need to go live it up in the lounge or whatever it is you fancy business class folks do.”
Ryan spins me back into his arms. “I’ll see you next winter, but I'll talk to you sooner. OK, Bunny?”
“See you next winter,” I nod, tears spilling faster than he can wipe them away. “You've got to go.”
