“No big deal. I have my Kindle and my earbuds.” I shrug.
This is the part where I should suggest we exchange emails, or numbers, or Instagram handles. Anything. Have I learned nothing from the past two weeks? I’ve felt homesick toward this guy like he was a place, and now I’m going to let him walk away, just like that?
But something stops me. Pride? Fear? A combination of both?
I push my dress down my waist and collect the upper half of my hair into a messy bun.
“When’s your flight?” Joe shoves his feet into his sand-filled Chuck Taylors.
“Two in the afternoon. We’ll only have an hour once we get to El Prat Airport.”
“That’s plenty.” He flings his backpack across his shoulder.
“Yeah. I’m not worried.” I check my phone in my purse for missed calls. Sure enough, Pippa called me eleven times.
Mom sent a message. Miss you! See you home soon. I’m making your favorite casserole. x
I look up and smile at him tiredly. A part of me can’t wait to leave so I can finally cry, and a part of me doesn’t want to leave this spot. Ever.
“Well.” I salute him. “It’s been real.”
“Wait.” He tugs a Polaroid camera from his backpack, aims it at my face, and snaps a picture. It slides out of the camera’s mouth, a white block of indistinguishable shadows.
“Okay, that was creepy.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you. I’m an axe murderer.”
“Now that you mention it, you do have that look,” I tease him.
He waves the picture back and forth, holding it by the edge. “I’ll walk you.”
Walk me? Why? Am I now incapable of walking a straight line by myself? My hackles hike up the more my mood goes down. I’m mad. Mad at my cowardice. Mad at the opportunistic Joe. Only I know he is not really opportunistic. He didn’t take advantage of me tonight. We hit it off and enjoyed a night of no strings attached. Pippa is right. Why must there be more?
“Don’t worry about it. I can see Pippa from here.” I point to the cluster of girls standing on the edge of the promenade, laughing as they rub at their own arms, braving the morning chill.
“Sounds good,” he says.
Sounds good? It sounds terrible. Stop me, dammit.
“So, uh, bye.” I turn around quickly, before he can see the tears in my eyes.
“Bye.” I hear his voice as I trudge my way to the boardwalk.
The first tear rolls on my neck, disappearing between the valley of my still-sore breasts. The second follows closely behind. I want to turn around. To run back to him. To lie and tell him I’d be okay if he wants to have his fun in Europe, as long as he comes back home to me in four months’ time. I realize it’s not even my pride I’m concerned about. It’s the fear of rejection that stops me from telling him how I feel. It’s pure unadulterated heartbreak. At least now, as I walk away toward the rest of my life, there’s a tiny part of me that still believes we stand a chance. That maybe he’ll look for me and somehow find me. I clutch onto this hope like a lifeline.
“Everlynne!” His voice booms behind me. I turn around so fast my head spins. He is not standing where I left him. In fact, we are less than fifteen feet apart. He followed me. I wipe my face quickly.
“This is stupid!” he yells, opening his arms, laughing incredulously. “I don’t want to say goodbye. We don’t have to.”
“You’re staying.” The wind carries my voice like it’s a ribbon. My heart feels like it wants to rip my chest open and jump its way to him.
“You’re going,” he replies softly, as if to say, No one is to blame. It’s all just crappy luck.
“I don’t want to go,” I admit.
“I don’t really want to stay.” He ducks his head, hiding what’s in his eyes, and I wish I could take a picture of him like that, all beautiful and raw and mine on the beach. My wilted sunflower.
“I’ll give you my number?” I offer.
He looks back up and grins. “I’ll call.”
“Hey, Joe.”
“Yes, Ever?”
“What’s your favorite English invention of all time? Don’t say Emilia Clarke.”
He laughs. I’m going to miss this laugh so much. “The World Wide Web, also known as the internet. Tim Berners-Lee is the bomb dot-com. Yours?”
“The chocolate bar,” I say without hesitation.
We run toward each other, exploding into one unit. He wraps his arms around me. His lips find mine, and we kiss, and we kiss, and we kiss. I want to hit roots in this sand. To become a tree of limbs and kisses with this guy.