“Well, then I guess I should leave you two alone. Since you’re not interested in the other thing?”
“Hmmm?” I say, looking over the rim of the mug at her. She’s looking at me, all playful and shit, leaning against the counter and hemming and hawing, like she’s considering not actually telling me what she’s obviously dying to. It’s cute as shit. And I kind of want to set my mug down on the counter next to her, and block her in with my arms on either side of those cute little hips, just to see if she’d press herself back. But that would lead down a road I can’t come back from, so I stay put and just take another sip of my coffee. It’s either cooling down enough, or I’ve burned off all the pain receptors in my mouth. Either way, it’s going down easier.
But Star just shakes her head at me and hops forward, reaching out and grabbing my arm. She slides her hand down, until she’s got my hand in hers, and tugs me forward, hard enough that I almost go sprawling. “Come on,” she says. “You’ve got to see this.”
I’m a little stunned to say the least. We don’t touch each other. Not really. It’s the only way I’ve been able to keep a lid on my control around her. Control that’s about to go straight to hell if she keeps laying those hands of hers on my skin. But it isn’t like I can just brush her off. There doesn’t exist a universe where I’d even want to, so I let her lead me out of the kitchen and through the pathways we’ve made in her mother’s stuff, out into the living room.
She drops my hand and looks at me, all expectantly, and that’s when I see it. There’s a goddamn air conditioner in the window. And it’s churning out icy-cold air like a freaking freight train. I can feel it from here, and it’s fucking fantastic.
I turn to her, one hand still gripping my mug of coffee for dear life, and blurt out, “Marry me.”
Her eyes kind of widen at my words, so I plaster a smile on my face and add, “We’ll sort out your shitty taste in music after the ceremony,” and hide my smirk behind my mug.
Star doesn’t say anything, she just tosses her head back and laughs. But as I watch, I see the glint in her eye, the long line of her throat, the way her inky black hair tumbles down her back, and well . . .
I’m starting to wonder if I actually mean it.
Star
After Ash finishes his coffee and has woken up a little bit, heading back outside holds absolutely zero interest to either of us. Especially now that the air conditioner is chugging along in the window like its life depends on it. Which, as far as I am concerned, it does. That stupid machine and I shared some pretty passionate words when I nearly put my back out installing it this morning. I made it very clear that it either works like a charm, or it will be taken to the junk heap and be salvaged for parts. If it knows what is good for it, it will keep Ash and I suitably chilled for the rest of the summer. Minimum.
I’m starting to get a little uncomfortable thinking about the summer coming to a close. I had thought I would be thrilled to put this whole experience behind me, but . . . Ash changed all that. Now the thought of finishing the job makes me think about the fact that Ash and I will be going our separate ways, and that makes my stomach start to hurt.
Fuck. I’m going to miss him so much.
“Hey,” Ash says, his voice breaking through my reverie. I look up, and see him gazing at me, his eyes soft, concerned. “You okay?” he asks. I nod and rub my hands up and down my arms, trying to warm myself. I’m cold all of a sudden, and I have a hunch that it isn’t just because of the air conditioner.
“Yeah,” I say, even though I know it’s a lie. “C’mon. We should get to work.”
There is no use in putting off the inevitable. Time is going to march on whether we finish cleaning the house or not. Either way, my time with Ash is quickly coming to an end.
***
The days are passing faster and faster, it seems. Now that I have finally accepted that the thing I feel for Ash isn’t going away, it feels like every hour is only seconds long, and they slip through my fingers like smoke, evading me as I try to hold onto them, try to make them last.
Soon I will have nothing left but memories. Memories and heartache.
“Seriously,” Ash says as we walk down the street together in the fading light, Bruiser trotting along between us, straining at the leash whenever he sees something interesting. “Are you okay? You’ve been . . . quiet.”
No, I think. I’m not okay. Every day I spend with you, I fall for you a little more, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
But I can’t say that, I can’t let him know. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us, even if he did like me back. I’m leaving in less than two months, and the way things are going, it’ll feel like minutes by the times it’s over. So I nod instead. It’s all I can do.
“Yeah,” I say, drawing my arms farther into the sleeves of my hoodie, letting the sleeve edges cover my fingertips. I want to burrow inside and stay there, where nothing and no one can touch me. I want to draw him in with me.
I want a million things I know I can’t have.
I want him.
“I’m just tired,” I say, because he’s looking at me again, like he knows I’m lying. We’ve gone almost all the way around the block with Bruiser now, and a part of me—the stupid, selfish part that makes me want things I can’t have—can picture us doing this every night. I can see us taking the dog for a walk, strolling slowly, hand in hand, and then coming home and curling up on the porch swing together. Maybe what I told Ash isn’t a lie after all, because the very knowledge that I can’t have the things I want is exhausting, and my whole body is drained from it.
I want my bed. I want to curl up on that crappy mattress and close my eyes and pretend that my problems don’t exist. But I can’t. If I do, it’ll mean even less time spent with Ash, and I’m not willing to give that up. Not yet. Not until I have to.
It’ll be okay, I tell myself. You’ll go back to college. You’ll be with your friends. You’ll study and learn and laugh and maybe even fall for someone else. This isn’t the end of your world. You’re stronger than this.
I just have to keep telling myself that. Then maybe one day I’ll believe it.
***
We do another lap around the block, now, trying to tucker Bruiser out. But he’s still sniffing at every little thing we pass, tail whipping back and forth like he’s sweeping for gold or something. That dog’s got more energy than I think I’ve ever had in my entire life, but then again, he didn’t just spend his day hauling box after box after box of junk out of what amounted to a minefield. Instead, he slept through pretty much the whole thing.
I’d be perky, too, if our roles were reversed.
Bruiser catches a glimpse of a squirrel and tries to make a break for it. But Ash just laughs and hauls him back. “Woah there, buddy,” he says, reaching down and snagging Bruiser’s collar in his fingers. I can see the shift of the muscles in his forearm and I curse myself yet again. I have to stop noticing stuff like that. It’s not doing me any good. “You don’t get to have squirrels for dinner anymore. It’s kibble from now on for you.”
Bruiser turns around and pins us with the biggest, saddest pair of puppy-dog eyes ever, and I laugh and reach down to ruffle his ears. Except when I do, the back of my hand brushes against Ash’s, and I can’t help myself. I let it linger there for a second, basking in the feel of his skin against mine before I jerk away with a muttered “sorry.”