Page 154 of The Long Way Home

I don’t know why before when I was fifteen I could grab her and kiss her and there was nothing between us — a fortnight and a game I jigged to be close to her — and now I’m here, a full grown man, a decade of literal love and death and everything else in between, when I know she loves me back and still, I can’t stop fucking it up.

Even if I am, I’m still glad to be next to her now.

We’re fucking complicated, I know that, but I always feel more with her. More… something. More anything. It’s not always good. Sometimes it’s more angry, more sad, more annoyed, but not now.

Now I feel… a lot. More nervous. More aware. More alive.

I’m in love with her, I can tell you that. Can I tell her that? I don’t know.

“Hey.” Me, softly.

“Hi.” Her, softer.

I move in a bit towards her. She doesn’t move.

“Are you stuck?” I nudge her as I move in a bit.

She shakes her head, looking nervous.

“Do you think I’m going to bite you?”

She smiles a tiny bit. “Fingers crossed.”

My neck goes hot and I smile a bit, shaking my head at her. “Magnolia Parks…”

She smiles over at me, eyes going soft. “I love it when you say my name.”

“Yeah?”

She nods. “I love how it sits in your mouth, like you were supposed to say it all the time.”

I was, Parks. That’s what I want to tell her, but I don’t. Move in closer again though. She swallows, bites down on her bottom lip the way I wish I was.

She shifts towards me so we’re nose to nose. Her little breaths warm my face and I feel like I’ve been kicked in the chest by a horse, that’s the way she makes me feel.

Her eyes wander over my face, searching me like a room she lost something in.

“You grew up in a year.”

“Yeah?” I half smile.

“Mmhm.” She nods. “Or changed.” Her eyes settle on my mouth, her eyes are heavy. “Or both,” she concludes. She reaches over with her finger and traces my jawline. “Look at you with a five o’clock shadow and all—”

I’d smile at her if I could but my heart is a hammer. And she’s gone as far as she’ll go now, she won’t kiss me first. She’s waiting on me. Nose pressed against mine, nose pressed against a door she’s waiting for me to open.

I’m looking for the key.

I’ve made a lot of progress in the last year.

I don’t do drugs anymore, don’t really get shitfaced. Don’t fuck around a lot, don’t have girls like Tic Tacs, don’t use sex to self medicate — might still use it as a weapon, but… baby steps. I won’t ever progress past her though. Ever. Even when I’ve hated her— and I have, and knowing her I will again —she’ll be the thing I’ll always come back to.

She’s my Mecca.

I reach over, hold her face in my hand, hold her eyes how I’m going to hold her body in a second. “I love you, Parks.”

Her eyes go round, stares at me, and a little smile grows.

I press my mouth up against hers and she kisses me back, melts into me like a candle. Wrap my arms around her, she fits how she always has. There’s this thing about her in my arms that makes everyone else feel like they shouldn’t be there. They shouldn’t be there. I know that. She moves with my body — it’s the magnet thing at its peak function.

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