Page 90 of Be My Compass

I should invite her over.

She can sleep in my bed while I have the meeting.

Just sleep.

No pressure.

There will never be pressure.

We’re still best friends. Underneath the colliding lips and the soft caresses and the creamy brown legs that open when I touch them, we’re still the two wounded kids who found a home in each other. Who ran away at night to sit on the slide and talk about nothing important. Who made life a little easier to bear.

We’re still them.

They’re still us.

We’re Kaelyn and Kastle.

I swing around to face my laptop and minimize the page on screen.

There’s Kaelyn.

She’s on my wallpaper.

Her smile. Her eyes. Her laughter.

This picture has been my background for years. Right after high school, Kaelyn and I went to separate colleges. She relocated all the way across the state while I stayed near my parents. Mom’s suggestion. She’d already made her plans for me and those plans weren’t Kaelyn’s plans.

But the distance didn’t hamper us. We flew back and forth every chance we could get. That spring, I took Kae to the Caribbean. Sandy beaches. Coconut trees. Food exploding with flavor. Belize. The melting pot of culture.

We visited Mayan ruins. Made our own tortillas. Rode horses in the jungle.

Then we took off to San Pedro for a few days of sun, sand and margaritas.

One of the locals snapped this shot.

It’s Kaelyn, her curls loose and crimping around her head. She’s sitting between my legs and leaning into me, her eyes on the cerulean Caribbean Sea. My arm is draped around her shoulder and my free hand is gripping a coconut.

Kaelyn set the picture as my wallpaper right before we left Belize. She said it made her think of white sand, balmy beaches and incredible food every time she stared at it. She said it made her want to go back.

But it wasn’t the same for me.

I mean… I do want to go back to Belize. It was incredible. But when I stare at that picture, I don’t see an island paradise.

I see Kaelyn’s body in a bikini.

The sun in her smile.

The salt on her lips.

I see that my hands aren’t where they want to be.

That my body’s too far away.

That my nose isn’t buried in her hair.

I see distance.

And longing.

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