Page 64 of Never Thought I'd End Up Here
It does feel like there’s magic here, in the whispers of the Osmanthus trees and the rose light curving over the tiled roofs. But there’s no way to separate it from the boy standing at the end of the bridge with me as the sun climbs up, who’s now watching me with a tenderness I wouldn’t have believed existed before him.I could love him anywhere, in any city, any season, I think to myself. I can easily envision us coming back together, maybe a year or two from now, strolling down the Bund at night, lost in Shanghai’s brilliant array of lights, or taking photos in the ancient water towns, his hand intertwined with mine. Just as I can envision us in LA, riding our bikes along the coast, packing strawberries and croissants into picnic baskets, lounging on the couch at his house.
The only thing I can’t envision is no longer wanting him.
“How could this not be real anymore?” I ask, mapping out the line of his jaw with my fingertips.
He shivers at my touch, then—like he can’t bear the remaining distance between us anymore, can’t quite control himself—he pulls me in, his body bracketing mine, until I can feel how fast his heart is beating, how shaky his breathing is.
“I agree with you,” he says hoarsely, his hand warm and gentle over the back of my head, and everything in me turns into molten gold, as if I’ve drunk the dawn air. I let him hold me as tight as I’m holding on to this moment and all the moments that have come before it, leading up to us. I have no intention of moving for years.
“You agree with me?” I barely remember to ask. “On what?”
“Here is perfect.”
Packing for the trip had been an exercise in spatial awareness.
Every dress was carefully folded and tucked into laundry bags, every pair of socks squeezed strategically into the remaining gaps, every compartment utilized to its full potential. Packing for the plane ride home, on the other hand, is more a challenge to see how much I can stuff into a single suitcase without it exploding.
“Um, I admire your ambition, Leah, but I feel like this isn’t going to work,” Daisy tells me, cross-legged on the hotel bed. When Cyrus walked me back to my room half an hour ago, she was already wide awake and dressed, her bags prepared by the doorstep.I’m physically incapable of packing at the very last minute, she had explained as she triple-checked the bathroom for any forgotten items.Like, the stress would render me immobile.“That zipper looks like it’s about to go on strike.”
“It’s fine. I’ll just give it a motivational speech and promise it a raise that’ll never materialize.” I wipe the sweat from my brow, sit down on the bulging suitcase with all my weight, and yank at the zipper again. It doesn’t budge.
“How did you even bring so many outfits with you?” Daisy asks with what sounds like genuine amazement. She points at one of the jackets threatening to escape from the suitcase. “I barely remember seeing you wear that.”
“I—definitely—did,” I say, panting, as I shove the jacket back in with the monstrous mass of dirty laundry and boots and eye shadow palettes. “I wore it one morning—for breakfast.”
She hops off the bed and crouches down next to me to inspect my luggage, the way a doctor might examine a dying patient. “Maybe … we can both try standing on it,” she says skeptically.
“You think that would do the trick?”
“I think it would be better if a hippo stood on it, but we don’t exactly have the resources—or the time.”
From outside, I can hear the rumbling of other suitcases being pushed down the corridor, the thud of doors slamming shut. Wang Laoshi had commanded us to meet in the lobby at nine thirty—exactly three minutes from now.
“Oh my god. Wait. I just remembered I have a boyfriend,” I say, a ridiculous smile leaping to my face as I whip my phone out. “I’ll ask him to help. ”
“Good thinking,” Daisy says, nodding sagely. “This is, like, one of the only times a boyfriend comes in handy.”
A knock comes mere moments later, and there Cyrus is, entering the room with his sleeves rolled up like someone conjured from my sweetest fantasies.
“This suitcase over here?” he asks as I stand up to make room for him. Daisy excuses herself, sliding out the door with a wink over her shoulder and a motion to meet downstairs later.
“Yeah.” I lean back against the wall, watching him with the simple, exquisite pleasure of knowing I don’t have to pretend I’m looking somewhere else. “If you can get it to close, I will be eternally grateful.”
He glances over at me, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Eternally grateful how?”
“I’ll …” I consider it for a beat. “I’ll buy you a sticker.”
“That’s your definition of eternal gratitude?”
“A really cute sticker, with little stars on it,” I specify. “I mean, you can’t expect me to offer you my life’s savings in exchange for zipping up a suitcase. Unless you have something else in mind.”
“I do,” he says immediately. “I want another one of your cloud doodles.”
I burst out laughing, but he doesn’t seem to be joking.
“Okay, fine, then,” I say, still laughing. “I promise you one wonky cloud doodle.”
Satisfied, he turns his attention back to the suitcase and pushes down from above with one hand while pulling the zipper with another. Miraculously, the zipper cooperates, and nothing explodes. Within seconds, he has the suitcase propped upright, and wheels it toward me.
