Page 95 of Leah

“You’re really here,” I said, and I didn’t think he could hear me, but he stared at my mouth and his eyes looked raw as he stiffened a nod.

My fingers combed through the hair at the nape of his neck as he only slowly moved. The music was fast paced, and we were like snails on the floor, more content on the feel of each other’s bodies than anything else.

The heat of him combined with the alcohol had me needy and wanting. I moved as close to him as humanly possible, feeling him harden against me. My breathing slowed as he dipped his head to me, his forehead pressed against mine.

I couldn’t stop myself.

That need—it burned deep within and spread throughout my body like wildfire.

I remembered how good he felt, and for a moment, I wanted him again. I wanted his length inside of me, wanted to know what it felt like to be pleasured again by his dexterous hands. My lips brushed against the stubble along his cheeks, and his breathing hitched. His eyes stared into my own as I barely pressed my lips against his soft plump ones. I darted a tongue out, lightly tasting his bottom lip, and my being warmed.

He shook before me, that pain permeating his features as he muttered, “You told me you weren’t ready.”

I froze, and all at once he began to move away from me. His hand trailed down my arm, leaving behind goose bumps as he backed away slowly.

“Again, congratulations,” he said one last time.

He turned away and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me shaking and scatterbrained.

The tears fell from my eyes.

I had lost him.

Again.

That was the last time I saw him before the plane crash.

*

When we got back to the apartment hours later, drunk as shit, I found a small box in front of our door with a card on top. Melanie was too close to puking to stick around to see what it was. She rushed inside the apartment, leaving me alone and dazed in the hallway.

I removed the card and opened it first, my eyes reading the words in record speed.

Congratulations on achieving your degree, Angel. I’m not surprised. You are so fucking amazing. I knew this day would come—always believed you could achieve anything that you set your mind to. Funny, I have fans all over the world, and I only know what it’s like to be them because I’myourbiggest fan.

My sweet Leah, my neighbour, my best friend, my light in the dark.

I wish you the best.

I want you happy, and if this—being apart—is the best for your soul, then I want your soul to fucking thrive.

Look toward the future Leah, and I’ll reach my hand out and touch the past where you will always live inside me.

You will now be chained to a desk with a calculator in the palm of your hand for a whole eternity. Hopefully, this will make those poor hands look alright.

-Carter

I opened the box and pulled out a bottle of rosy, red nail polish. A poor quality one, to boot. In fact, upon closer inspection, I realized it was the same brand of the one from my childhood.

The one he replaced for me.

A lump formed in my throat.

I knew what he was trying to tell me.

The past doesn’t have to stay in the past.

But he was wrong.

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