Page 89 of The Best Kind of Forever
“Uh, Aeris, I think someone is here to see you,” she mumbles from her stakeout spot next to the window.
Anxiety fills my body up like lighter fluid. “What?”
I go over to join her, mirroring her eyeline, and that’s when Hayes’ six-foot-three body comes into view. He has a five o’clock shadow, which is new, but I don’t hate it. His hair isn’t as messy as the last time I saw him, and the purple circles under his eyes have lightened.
Even after all this time, he still looks as handsome as ever. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that shit, I guess.
“Oh my God!” I scream, ducking down from sight. “What do I do?”
I haven’t seen Hayes in a while, and all those B.H.—Before Hayes—nerves are coming up and are halfway to clawing themselves free.
“Maybe you should talk to him?”
You’re good at talking to people, Aeris. Kind of. Sometimes. Not under pressure, which you are.This is going to be like that time I accidentally called my Chili’s waitress Mommy. Granted, I was thinking about my mom, but the girl was really freaked out and had someone change sections with her.
What would I even say to him? I mean, I know I was going to go over and talk to him, but I thought I’d at least have some more time to prepare.
Hey, Hayes.
No, that’s too casual.
Hello, Mr. Hayes.
Okay, maybe don’t say hi at all.
I watched that interview you did for the whole internet to see and I’m freaking out because that’s the nicest and dumbest thing anyone’s ever done for me and I also really miss you but I’m mad at you but—
THAT’S TOO MUCH.
I should just let him do all the talking. Yeah. That’s a solid plan.
Lila gives me the room, and I wait a few seconds to open the door. When I do, the afternoon breeze laces through my hair and pesters my exposed arms. It’s colder than usual today, and I’m not sure if that’s a bad omen.
We both stare at each other like we’re two strangers who have the wrong house. There is no jumping into arms or a life-changing kiss. There’s just awkward silence, and I wish we could skip to the part where we’re okay again—where all of this is so far back in our rearview that it was like it never happened. But that’s not reality. Reality is messy, and it makes exceptions for no one.
I don’t want to play hard to get. I don’t want to pretend like these days apart haven’t been the worst days of my life. It’s taking every morsel of self-control not to wrap my arms around him—not to give myself over to him, not to inhale that sandalwood scent of his into my bloodstream, not to commit the minty taste of his tongue to memory.
I’ve always felt so safe in his arms, like nothing can hurt me. I want to feel that way again. I want to feel the feather’s edge of love in the way he strokes the back of my head or presses his lips to my forehead.
Those radiant, blue eyes of his send a direct line of heart-stopping fear to my chest.
He tips his weight onto one foot. “Aeris, I’m here to grovel for your forgiveness.”
That’s…straightforward.
“I—”
“No, I’m serious,” he says. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I’m not here to clear my conscience. I’m here to tell you that I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I don’t know if you saw…well, if you saw the interview. I really, really fucked up. I never wanted to hurt you. But I did, and I’ll be paying for that mistake for the rest of my life. I should’ve fought for you. You deserve the entire world, and I want to be the one to give it to you.”
“Hayes—”
“I’ll get on my knees right now. I’ll stand outside of your house with a boombox every night if I have to. I’ll send you flowers and chocolate and love letters and—"
Emotion garbles my words. “I forgive you.”
And just like that, the war is over.
Hayes stares at me with a fraction of shock wedged in his eyes. “You do?”
