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Ellie studies me for a minute, but all she says is, “Text me when you’re back.”
“I will. Have fun.”
After a few more hugs, I start down the street—in the opposite direction from the building I’ve lived in for the past two months. It’s only a few blocks to Beck’s apartment.
I stop on the sidewalk outside the park across the street, staring up at the highest floor. There are a couple of lights on, not enough for me to tell if he’s home or just left them lit earlier.
My time in Germany has always been finite. I knew before getting my first glimpse of Beck on Kluvberg’s field that I’d leave as soon as Scholenberg ended. That departure date never changed as my feelings grew and developed.
I knew saying goodbye would hurt. But I wasn’t expecting this ache in my chest. Or the echo of “You ever going to let anyone in, Saylor?” in my head.
I turn and continue walking toward to the Scholenberg house, pushing through the pain the same way I always have. Not caring that it’s begun to drizzle. Appreciating it, actually.
It hides the fact that there was already salty water dripping down my cheeks.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Returning to Lancaster University for the start of senior year is anticlimactic.
The fourth time doing something is never the time remembered. At least, not the time I remember. This is also the final time, though, and it’s not a reminder I appreciate. There have been too many lasts lately.
Emma harassed our landlord into letting me move in early, so I head straight to our shared house from the airport when I land.
The drive feels strange. The scenery isn’t what I’ve grown accustomed to seeing. Connecticut looks drab and uninspired after the majestic color of Kluvberg.
The National croons “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks” in my ears, the melancholy melody matching my mood. I haven’t taken my headphones out since I climbed in the waiting car outside the Scholenberg house fourteen hours ago. I needed to drown out the dark thoughts swirling in my brain.
The taxi I flagged down at the airport stops outside the Colonial I’ve lived in since sophomore year fifteen minutes later. I hand the driver some of the dollars that have sat in my wallet for the past eight weeks. I didn’t bother exchanging my unused euros for American dollars in Berlin, and the sight of the foreign currency mixed in with the green bills causes a pang in my stomach I fight to ignore.
I climb out of the back seat. The driver is already hoisting my bags out of the trunk of the sedan, and I thank him before heading up the brick walkway. I yank the heavy bags up the stairs. They thump against every step, and I curse myself for packing so much. Half of it I never even wore.
The house is empty and silent when I walk inside. Preseason doesn’t start for another week, and my housemates are scattered across the country in their respective hometowns enjoying the end of summer.
I feel like collapsing in a heap on the floor, so I force myself to do the opposite. I drop my bags in the small entryway that runs between the kitchen and living room and head right back outside without venturing farther into the house.
My sneaker-clad feet pound the pavement, expelling some of the emotion simmering with each slap against cement.
I veer left, turning onto Lancaster’s ivy-covered campus. My pace is fast, the burn of my calves and blur of brick buildings indications of my speed.
Campus is deserted too. There aren’t any tours or summer classes being held this late in the day, and those are the only events happening around here this time of year.
It’s just me and the scampering squirrels.
I run all the way past the pond to the athletic complex and sports fields, only stopping when I reach the edge of the soccer field I’ve spent my college career playing on. I vault over the hip-high chain-link fence onto the turf. It’s a short walk out to the center of the field. As soon as I reach the heart of the pitch, I flop down.
Two days ago, I was doing this halfway around the world.
I ran for longer than I realized, because dusk has begun to fall, streaking the blue sky in shades of tangerine, fuchsia, and lilac. I stare upward for so long my eyes lose focus and the sunset twirls together like a swirl of sherbet.
He’s not here. Logically, I know that. But I keep waiting, pretending he’ll be standing over me any minute.
Finally, my grumbling stomach forces me vertical. I barely ate on the plane. I’ve barely eaten all day. Rather than hop over the fence again, I opt for the gate, walking along the path and around the bleachers to head back through campus.
“Saylor!”
I turn to see Kyle Andrews walking toward me from the sports complex. There’s one SUV in the parking lot, which must belong to him.
“Hey, Kyle.” I pause in place.
