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And his hand is on mine.

His touch still feels so fucking good.

Even though something—everything—else is wrong.

The red hand at the cross walk disappears as the walk sign flashes on.

I follow Brendon across the street. Then over the loading zone. We take the escalator to departures, step into the air-conditioned terminal, and go straight to the machines against the wall.

Shit, that security line stretches on for ages. This is going to take forever. And we're no longer early.

I slide my credit card into the machine and follow the instructions. It spits out my boarding pass and a message to proceed to security.

Brendon rubs my shoulders. "You have everything you need for your flight?"

I nod. I think so.

"Load up your playlist with Linkin Park?"

I shake my head. "Joy Division."

He chuckles but his eyes stay sad. "Call me when you get in. And let me know how your grandma is doing."

"Of course." I wrap my arms around his waist. "You'll let me know what happens with Em? Whatever it is?"

"Yeah."

"Good." I rise to my tiptoes. My eyelids flutter closed as I press my lips to his. He tastes good. Like coffee and like Brendon. I don't usually like the taste of coffee, but it's another thing that makes me think of him.

I pull back with a sigh.

My eyes fix on his. They're like coffee, his eyes. Rich. Dark. Deep.

He's here with me.

Holding my hand.

Kissing me off.

He's everything.

"I don't want to say goodbye, but I guess I have to." I rise to my tiptoes and kiss him again. It's not enough. I need more of him. I need all of him.

This time, he's the one who pulls back. He runs his fingers through my hair. His voice gets soft. "Me either."

"I... I'll miss you." I lean into his touch. Words rise up in my throat. Ones I've been avoiding.

I try to swallow them down.

I kiss him one more time. Something to keep my lips occupied.

But that doesn't work.

I'm shaking when I pull back.

My eyes meet his.

And those words spill from my lips.

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