Page 88 of Wherever You Are
“Don’t worry about it,” he says quickly. “I left mine for you at my house, too.”
So he’s not here to exchange gifts then. In the lingering silence, I fit my mitten back on, and Garrison hunches forward, winded by his thoughts alone.
“Can I tell you what I got you?” he asks. I think he must want to kill time before he unleashes the important news.
I nod tensely.
His blue-green eyes flit to my ears. “I know you always wear the star and the bat studs, but I thought you’d like something X-Men related.”
My lips stretch into an uncontrollable smile. “You got me earrings?”
“Yeah.” He pinches his fingers to try to describe them. “They’re X-shaped, with a circle around them.”The X-Men symbol.
A guy bought me a gift. A guy bought mejewelry. It’s hard to believe. “It’s perfect,” I say without thinking.
Garrison tilts his head. “You haven’t seen it yet.”
I push up my glasses again. A nervous tic now. “I don’t have to see it to know it’s perfect.”Because you bought it for me.“I made you something, so it’s probably not as good, and it’s sort of…”
His lips try desperately to lift. “What?”
“Dorky?” I cringe at myself. “It’s a scrapbook.” I just come right out and spoil it. Maggie would hateif I spoiled her about anything, and thankfully, she’s been texting me again as I update her on my life with Garrison Abbey.
I have to constantly censor myself with my friend from Maine, so it’s not as easy talking with Maggie as it is with Daisy Calloway. Recently, I’ve noticed that more and more.
“A scrapbook of what?” He takes off his beanie to rake his hair out of his eyes.
Sometimes (a lot of the time) his whole bad boy persona intimidates me. The tattoos, the skillful sarcasm, and the good looks, but he’salwaysgentle with me. He has his mother’s innate and natural beauty, I’ve realized, and of the pictures I’ve seen of his father, he has his hair and lean build.
“Um…it’s hard to explain. I’ll just have to show you later.” My heart races at the sight of this person I really, really like. I can’t imagine not crossing paths with him. Not becoming friends. I can’t imagine my life without the company of Garrison Abbey.
He stares at me for a really long moment. His deep expression practically caresses my cheeks. My chest swells, and I find myself covering my face with my mitten-hands. I feel undone, and we’re just sitting across from one another.
“Hey,” he whispers, his voice low. Garrison stands and brushes off more snow beside me, and then he takes a seat next to me on the lounge chair. Our shoulders touch, but good nerves swarm me.
Nerves that shout,“Carpe Diem, Willow Moore!”
“I’m glad you’re here,” I suddenly say what I feel. Instantly, the bottom of my stomach plunges and I regret every single word.
His features contort, breaking and breaking. Then he rubs his face with his gloved hand.
I hold onto my knees. Lost for words. I can’t look at him, but I feel him drop his hand and turn his head towards me, studying my anxious face and body.
“I’m leaving,” he tells me abruptly.
“What?” My voice spikes, sounding strange. I feel even stranger. Like this out-of-body experience belongs to another Willow in an alternate dimension. Not me. Not here.
Not right now.
Garrison fists the beanie in a hand. “I’m leaving,” he repeats, as though trying to make sense of this too. I dazedly hear his explanation about Faust, his parents, and being forced to finish his senior year at the boarding school in upstate New York.
The news pummels me. I jinxed myself.Momentsago I was thinking about how I can’t imagine not sharing his company, and now he’s leaving? I don’t just need Garrison with me at Dalton Academy and Philly.
Iwanthim.
And I’ve never wanted a friend like this. Never yearned for a person to be next to me. Never slept and smiled thinking about seeing them tomorrow.
The more he explains his fate, in a very dry but hollow voice, I slump forward. My stomach caves, and the avalanche begins to roar down the figurative mountain that is our lives. I shield my face with my hands, afraid that I’ll start crying.
