“Babe, I love you, but you’re talking nonsense. Your worst case scenario isn’t happening to you, you’re creating it yourself. It’s going to be a self-fulfilling prophecy, and then you’re going to use it as an excuse to sayI told you soand wall yourself off. You think it’ll prevent heartbreak, but it’s just going to prevent your own happiness. I’m telling you, you do not need to do this.”
She finally releases me and I look away quickly, anxiously chewing on my bottom lip. Everything she’s saying makes sense. Logically, it should be calming my nerves. But it’s not.
I can feel myself losing the battle against my own mind. I don’t want to feel this way. I don’t want to do this. I want to trust that we can make it through every life change together.
I want to tell myself to shut the hell up, but the more my mind reels, the more I accept the inevitable. Even if I have to drag myself kicking and screaming, I have to do the right thing, for both of us.
This is the right thing. Don’t talk yourself out of it.
“You’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?” Abby mutters so low that I can barely hear her. I nod my head in response, unable to bring myself to say anything.
With a heavy sigh, she scoots over to me, laying her head on my shoulder and gripping my hand. “I think you’re going to regret this, my love.”
The small crack that’s been building in my chest splits wide open, a hollow chasm threatening to consume me from the inside out. I’m going to lose him, and no matter what Abby says, there’s nothing either of us can do to stop it.
***
Later that night, after the boys have gone home, Griffin and I lay wrapped together in his bed, my head on his chest as he slowly strokes my hair. I lose myself in the steady rhythm of his heart, wondering if I can actually bring myself to break it.
“You’re quiet tonight, darlin’,” Griffin muses. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah, just tired,” I say, nuzzling my cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt, tightening the grip I have aroundhis torso like if I can just hold him tight enough I’ll finally be convinced that I don’t have to let him go.
Move-in is next weekend, which means doomsday has officially arrived. Despite my efforts to dig my heels in and force summer to stay forever, August has arrived with a vengeance. Between packing and making sure my schedule is in order, and spending as much time with friends as possible, and slowly drowning in my own turmoil, I end each day feeling like I’ve run a marathon.
“Do you want me to take you home?” he asks.
“Not even a little bit,” I say, tilting my head to look up at him. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen–brunette locks of hair lightened by the summer sun, freckles dusting across the nose and cheeks of his tanned face, brown eyes somehow full of stars looking at me like I’ve hung the moon.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he murmurs, slowly leaning in until our lips just barely touch. Savoring the closeness, our breaths mingle for a moment before crossing that final distance, sealing our lips together in a kiss that I feel down to my toes.
“I’m ready,” I say, eyes flicking up to his, all the air whooshing from my lungs at the realization. He may not be my last, but I can’t stand the thought of someone else being my first. If it has to be over, it needs to be everything.
“To go home?”
“No,” I say, bringing my mouth to his, urgent and hungry for him. “I want you. I want you to have me. And I know we only have a week left, and it’s not fair to do this right before I leave, but I want it to be you.”
His eyes widen, hand gripping the back of my neck where he’d been gently fingering the long waves of my hair.
“Are you sure?” he says, gently clearing his throat. “There might only be a week left of summer, but that doesn’t mean we have to do this now. We can wait.”
No, my sweet boy. We can’t.
“I don’t want to wait,” I murmur, peppering kisses along his jawline. “I don’t want to go another second without having all of you.”
His eyes darken with desire, shifting our bodies until I’m underneath him, looking up at the boy I want so badly to keep.
Make it count, Ellie. If this is it, give him something to hold on to.
I reach up to stroke his cheek, and he leans into my touch.
“I love you, Griffin Hart,” I whisper, hoping he chalks the tremble in my voice up to anticipation.
“I love you back, Eleanor Turner,” he replies before claiming my mouth with his, our tongues swirling together as our bodies begin to move against each other.
I let myself turn to putty in his hands, shutting my brain off and focusing on nothing but the feeling of his touch. If these are our last moments together, I never want to forget them. If this is goodbye, I want it to feel like forever.
Chapter 36
