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She pulls back a little and twines her arms around my neck, drawing my mouth down to hers. “Tell me you’ll miss me.”
I kiss her instead of speaking, my hands sliding up to knot in her hair. Everything is quiet. There is only the taste of her tongue and the swell of her lower lip, the curve of her jaw. There is only the sharp shuddering gasp of her breath.
There are no words for how much I will miss her, but I try to kiss her so that she’ll know. I try to kiss her to tell her the whole story of my love, the way that I dreamed of her when she was dead, the way that every other girl seemed like a mirror that showed me her face. The way my skin ached for her. The way that kissing her made me feel like I was drowning and like I was being saved all at the same time. I hope she can taste all that, bittersweet, on my tongue.
It’s thrilling to realize that I’m allowed this at last, that for this moment she’s mine.
Then she takes an unsteady step back. Her eyes shine with unsaid things; her mouth is ruddy from being pressed against mine. She bends down and picks up her hat. “I’ve got to—”
She’s got to go and I’ve got to let her.
“Yeah,” I say, curling my hands at my sides to keep from grabbing for her. “Sorry.” I shouldn’t already feel the loss of her so acutely, when she’s not yet gone. I have had to let her go so many times, surely practice ought to make this easier.
We walk to her car together. The snow crunches under my feet. I look back at the bleak brick dorms.
“I’ll be here,” I say. “When you get back.”
She nods, smiling a little, like she’s humoring me. I don’t think she realizes just how long I’ve been waiting, how long I will wait for her still. Finally she meets my gaze and smiles. “Just don’t forget me, Cassel.”
“Never,” I say.
I couldn’t if I tried.
Believe me, once upon a time, I tried.
She gets into the car and closes the driver’s side door with a slam. I can tell it costs her something to act casual, to give me that last little wave and grin, to put her car into gear and start to pull out of the lot.
That’s when it hits me. In a single moment everything becomes suddenly, gloriously clear. I have a choice other than this one.
“Wait!” I yell, legging it over and knocking on the window.
She hits the brakes.
“I’m coming with you,” I say as she rolls the window down. I’m grinning like a fool. “Take me with you.”
“What?” Her face looks blank, like she’s not sure she’s hearing me right. “You can’t. What about graduating? And your family? And your whole life?”
For years Wallingford has been my refuge, proof that I could be a regular guy—or that I could pretend well enough that no one could tell the difference. But I don’t need that anymore. I’m okay with being a con artist and a grifter. With being a worker. With having friends who will hopefully forgive me for taking off on a mad road trip. With being in love.
“I don’t care.” I get in on the passenger side, slamming the door on everything else. “I want to be with you.”
I can’t stop smiling.
She looks at me for a long moment, and then starts to laugh. “You’re running away with me with your book bag and the clothes on your back? I could wait for you to go to your dorm—or we could stop by your house. Don’t you need to get anything?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Nothing I can’t steal.”
“What about telling someone? Sam?”
“I’ll call from the road.” I hit the knob on the radio, filling the car with music.
“Don’t you even want to know where we’re going?” She’s looking at me like I’m a painting she’s managed to steal but will never be allowed to keep. She sounds exasperated and oddly fragile.
I look out the window at the snow-covered landscape as the car starts to move. Maybe we’ll go north and see my father’s family, maybe we’ll try to find her father’s diamond. It doesn’t matter.
“Nah,” I say.
“You’re crazy.” She’s laughing again. “You know that, right, Cassel? Crazy.”
