Page 72 of Ripple Effect

She hiccups a laugh and swats me on the shoulder. “Don’t be so mean to me in my time of crisis.”

“Why not? It earned me my favorite smile.”

Her cheeks tighten, and a red-hot blush creeps up her neck. She glances past me to the driver’s side of her car, gulps low in her throat, and says, “I better go now.”

“Oh, you in a rush?” I mean, I haven’t even hugged her yet.

“It’s just, the longer I stand here, the more likely I am to burst into tears.Again.” She rubs at her temples, pinches her eyes closed. “And honestly, I don’t know why I’m even acting this way. We go to the same school; we live ten minutes away from one another. I wasn’t nearly this upset when I ... when ...”

“When you left Dayton?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “When I moved away from my ex.”

I can’t help it, but I fucking beam at the thought. I may not like that she’s upset, but it warms me up to know that all this emotion is just for me.

“Would you look at that,” she says. “I earnedmyfavorite smile, too.”

I breathe deep, run a hand through my hair, and move to open the car door. “Get outta here, will you?”

“Yeah, okay.”

The moment seems to stretch out before us, two points converging in a world that, for the briefest of moments, stops turning. When I pull her in, her body fits perfectly against mine—familiar and warm. Her soft curves nestle against the solid plane of my chest.

My arms snake around her, one arm at her lower back, the other just beneath her shoulders, anchoring her to me. I tuck my face into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, letting her scent—strawberries and a hint of citrus—wash over me.

It’s a scent that’s become synonymous with mornings waking up beside her, late evenings curled up on the couch, and nights spent wrapped in each other’s arms. It’s a hard pill to swallow—the thought that I’ll no longer be enveloped by that smell.

As her arms wind around my waist, I can feel the faint tremors in her frame, the thud of her heart against my chest. Each second that passes with her in my arms, the grip of the impending separation feels tighter. I cling to the moment—we both do—trying to memorize the feel of it.

Her fingers splay against my back, tracing lines as if trying to remember the layout of my spine, the contours of my shoulder blades. I feel her take another shaky breath against my collarbone, the warmth of it seeping through my shirt.

“I’ll see you when I see you?” I murmur the question against her neck, and she stiffens.

“Not a chance,” she says. “I’ll see you when we make a concrete plan to meet up. Multiple times a week, at the very least.”

Pulling back slightly, I cradle her face with my hands, our foreheads touching, our eyes locked. There’s nothing I want more than to tilt her chin, press my lips to hers, and never come up for air. But I don’t, because there’s still that nagging part of me that’s uncertain about how she feels.

“Anything you want,” I say instead. And then, with a reluctant sigh, I release her, the crisp fall air rushing in to fill the void she leaves. She climbs into her car, our fingers lingering for just one more second before she pulls away.

I watch her go, her car making the final turn out of the lot, silent and alone. Then I head back up to my apartment and break down like a fucking baby.

* * *

As night falls,restlessness takes over. Despite the chaotic expanse of the apartment, every corner seems to echo with Daisy’s absence. I make an attempt to engage with my work, to dive into filming for AfterDark, or even just muster the focus to respond to a few lingering messages, but it’s futile.

I give up, abandoning my workspace to slump onto the couch, its cushions no longer as welcoming without her presence. Just as I’m about to drown the silence with some random TV show—anything to avoid the ones we used to watch together—my phone buzzes.

Daisy

how was your day?

Elio

good. you all settled back in?

all settled. grace and I are about to watch a movie. enjoy your night

you too

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