AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And no one can tell us to stop.
I hope you leave that place soon. The world is waiting for you. My address is in the front of all of the books.
I can’t wait to get your first letter. Until then, I hope you’re going to be okay. Just remember to look up at the stars and know that I’ll be looking up at them to and thinking about you and how jealous they all are because you outshine them.
I love you,
Apollo Havaa Locklear.
I fold the letter in half, turn it over in my hand, and then press it to my nose.
I try to see if I can smell the strawberries. It just smells like the inside of the backpack, but I close my eyes and try to imagine it does.
Apollo came looking for me. When she left, she thought about me. She wants me to find her.
I slide the letter back under the piece of twine and tuck it back into my backpack. It’ll be a treat I give myself every time I finish a book.
I slip one of the books out of the backpack. It’s called “Illuminated Rumi.” I flip to page one and read the poems and think about Apollo.
And then, for the first time in a long time when I dream, I don’t see Ellie calling me to join her. There’s only Apollo, our Greek gods, and our hammock.
Reunited
Graham
“Graham?” The deep, but undeniably feminine voice reaches my ear as I’m turning around to close the door behind me. I know who it is, even though her voice has changed some. I turn around, and I know my eyes widen as I take her in. She’s not a little girl anymore. Not even close.
“Apollo?”
“It’s me.” She fans her fingers out by her side as if to say “Ta-Da” but her expression is unsure as she waits for me to respond.
I’m speechless. And even though I’m still trying to reconcile the young woman in front of me with the little girl I last saw at the lake, I can’t help but grin.
It’s taken four years, but if anything was ever worth the wait, it’s her.
Her expression lights up at my smile, and in a flash, she’s running up the stone path of my apartment. Her hair streaks in a long and dense wave behind her. It’s her very own flag.
Her smile nearly lays me flat. She looks like she’s smiling from the inside out. In that smile, I recognize the girl I spent the best weeks of my life with.
Just as she reaches me, she squeals and takes a flying leap with her arms extended. I catch her. The weight of her in my arms is the welcome burden I’ve ever held.
Her legs wrap around my waist, her arms circle my shoulders, and she presses her face into my neck.
I hold her tight, letting the sweet scent of strawberries completely surround me.
“Grahamstar,” she coos. She pulls back and leans away. “Let me look at you. Oh, God, look at you,” she squeals as her eyes roam my face. She looks down at my chest, and her eyes widen.
“Oh my God.” She unwraps her limbs from me, and I hold her waist and set her down. She steps back—her eyes gleaming as she looks me up and down.
“You’ve grown. I didn’t think it was possible. You’re so tall!” she yelled. “Look at your hair. It’s so long. I love it.” She clasps her hands together in front of her chest, and her eyes fill with tears.
“Oh. Graham. You look great,” she says in a happy whisper.
I blush, but I don’t care that she can see. I’m happier than I ever thought I’d be again. I let my eyes do what they’ve wanted to since I heard her voice. I look at my sun.
Her toes are painted gold, the way they were that summer. It still looks incredible against her dark tan skin. She’s got on a pair of flat sandals with tiny silver straps that wrap around her feet and wind and twist up her long, toned legs, and then tie into a huge bow up at her knee. The long expanse of her thighs is broken by hundreds of tiny white threads hanging from the frayed edges of tiny little denim cut off shorts.
Between the waist of her shorts and the hem of her shirt is a flash of more tanned skin that shows a pierced belly button. Her top is a short but loose yellow tank top. The straps are falling off both of her shoulders, and her hand comes up to push one of them back up as if my eyes landing there reminded her that it was out of place. Her hand is adorned with tiny gold rings. Each finger has at least one. Her middle finger has three. I take in her show stopping face that reminds me of all the places I’ve never been. The Middle East, Europe, the rest of Ame
