I pull my shirt off and use it as a quick way to deal with the mess before dropping it to the floor.
My wrist is throbbing. I flex my fingers once and immediately stop. The deep, insistent ache has moved up past the joint now, worse than this morning, worse than last week. I lay my hand flat on the mattress and leave it there.
I don't give a shit about my hand right now. That moment... the connection I felt with her was so fucking worth it.
Her little laugh is the first thing that registers. “That was—”
“Yeah.”
“We should probably—”
“Probably.”
Neither of us moves to hang up.
I can hear her breathing slow down, and the quiet shift of her settling back into her pillows, the distance between us suddenly making itself known.
She’s not here. She’s not mine.
I look at the ceiling, hating this distance. The connection we just had only emphasizes how far apart we really are. “Honeycomb?”
“Yeah?”
“You going to tell me where you are now? I've narrowed it down to a hundred schools now, but I'm going to need a little more information.”
She laughs, and I can picture her genuine smile. “Nice try, Z.”
“Come on. I feel like that earned me something.”
“It earned you a good night.”
“That's it?”
“That's it.”
I shake my head at the ceiling, smiling despite myself. “Night, Honeycomb.”
“Night, Z.”
The line goes dead.
I set the phone on the nightstand and lie there while my wrist pulses steadily andThe Baseball Bachelorplays on mute. Sam Brennon has whittled it down to fifteen girls, and I’m currently feeling better about his long-term prospects than my own.
Why the hell do I feel worse than before she called?
That’s never happened before.
It’s because I miss her. I miss being close enough to touch her. I hate that I have no idea where she is. She's living in a dorm room I've never seen, a college I still can't name, a bed I haven't been in, and she's choosing to keep it that way. I understand why, but it still costs me every single time.
I reach for the melted ice pack and press it back around my wrist as if it’s going to have any kind of effect now.
How long am I going to do this with her?
I stare at the ceiling.
As long as it takes.
She’ll come to find me, because she’s mine, and I’m forever hers.
