The sun glints against the skyline, turning tall buildings into shadowy peaks, and I don’t know what I feel.
Peace, maybe, or as close to it as I can get. Acceptance.
I flop down in one of the flimsy chairs outside and close my eyes. There’s something almost calming about being surrounded by so much energy, like a pebble in a raging river.
This city never sleeps.
Then the door slides open, and Holden takes the chair beside me.
I force my eyes open and look over before I can help myself, trying not to smile at the way he has to fold himself awkwardly to fit in the small chair.
It groans under his weight and his lip curls with annoyance, wondering if he’ll break it.
His wrists hang loosely over his knees as he leans forward. The most uncomfortable seat ever and he’s pretending it isn’t.
Happier memories threaten to rupture my defenses. The last time we were in New York. The way we shared a bed and decided we weren’t the worst people on Earth.
The first kiss.
Why does it feel like it was ten years ago now?
The ache in my chest deepens, a definitive stabbingtwang, like someone yanking on my heart and snapping it back into place like a rubber band.
“Hey,” he ventures.
“Hey, yourself.” I close my eyes again, turning my face to the sky.
“You okay?”
I don’t answer.
I can’t bring myself to answer until I look at him. He’s watching me, those Mojave brown eyes all dark desert dusk.
I swallow hard.
“What do you want, Holden?”
“Came to check on you. Is that a crime now?” He hesitates. “Also, I came to let you know I’ll take the couch tonight. Bedroom’s all yours, whenever you’re ready.”
I shrug.
It’s still daylight. Sort of.
But we do have an early morning and I’m exhausted. But if we’re sleeping alone, I already know I’ll be lucky to doze off for a few hours.
It’s crazy how he tortures me without even trying.
“Yeah, fine,” I whisper. “Thanks.”
Another long, killing pause.
“Look, Clee, I’m sorry about… Fuck.” He sighs. I wait, wondering if he’ll work his way down the whole list of disappointments. “This,” he finishes. “This friction between us.”
“Okay,” I say numbly. “You don’t need to—”
“I do. I never meant to hurt you. Not ever.” Regret sharpens in his voice. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and I look at him.
Huge mistake.
