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“Holden,” I whispered, unlatching my arms from around his back.
He didn’t answer. Gently, I pushed his hand off its hopeful back-and-forth skimming along the elastic band of my underwear. “Holden, I’ve got to go.”
“What, to Floyd? No, you don’t,” he mumbled, catching and twining my hair around his finger the way he used to. “Nobody needs us to be there.”
“It’s more like…I don’t think I can be here.”
“Huh?” A little dazed, he pitched up on one elbow to regard me. His free hand stroked my cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not…It’s too soon, I think. Being here with you.” Not quite true. What I was really thinking was how bizarre it was, after a year, that Holden and I were right back at this same knotty moment. Except this time there was no apple candle, no snoring Jolly at the foot of the bed, no frost on the pane. Only the catch in my lungs that made it hard to breathe through what I knew I might say.
“I felt like we were moving closer,” he said.
“Maybe we are.” I wasn’t being totally honest, and if I wasn’t being honest, I wasn’t being fair. “But I think I just want more time,” I qualified. That was honest. Wasn’t it?
“Okay.” He half laughed, then rolled off me so that we were side by side, innocent as toy mice in a matchbox.
We stayed like this for another minute or so, and then Holden jumped off the bed, moving toward the chair stacked with folded clothes and rummaging for his jeans, which he then yanked up in one rough swoop.
“Where are you going?”
“I think I’ll hit Floyd.”
“Oh.” I stood, picked up my dress from where it had puddled on the floor. “Holden, I know you’re upset.”
“A little bit. That’s normal, right? What do you want from me, Ember?”
“I’m not sure.”
“The thing is, I can’t be anything more than I am. And I’m one guy, one decision. So make it or don’t. Let me know when you do.”
He sounded weary, and I didn’t blame him. This wasn’t supposed to be the end of this night, with me tossing Holden off as if I were a child who’d grown bored with her amusement. I struggled with the zip of my dress. Holden had snapped on his lamp and was now leaning over his desk, facing away from me and clicking through emails on his laptop.
“Hold?” I whispered.
He didn’t turn around. “You coming with me to Floyd?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Okay, cool.” His back still facing me. I hated to think of the tears that might be in his eyes. Holden put up a stoic front, but I knew better. “I’ll call you later.”
“Sounds good.”
He was hurt, and I couldn’t undo it. So I left him; I had to. In the front hall, a number of guests were starting to leave—it was easy to slip out the door unnoticed. Head tucked, I found my coat, then clipped down the front steps and around the corner. Withdrew my cell phone from my bag and keyed in the numbers.
I was walking too fast and I couldn’t stop; it was as if I’d spent the past couple of hours caged.
It went straight to voice mail. I spoke in a whisper. “I know this is probably crazy and violates our rules and you’re not there and whatever, but I’m coming over. I’ll be in the lobby of your building. So just text me whenever you get in from class or work.” I paused. “Because I need to see you, Kai. I’ll wait for you.”
One guy, one decision. But hadn’t that decision been clinched the moment I’d met Kai on the fire escape?
Quickly, I sent Rachel a text—pls pls cover for me if my folks call—before I turned off my phone and began to walk purposefully toward the St. George.
It was the right thing to do, to leave Holden. I couldn’t hook up with him—not mindlessly, and especially not with full awareness—if I didn’t feel it. Worrying and regretting and puzzling and perseverating over us was all just a waste of time. I didn’t regret it, but I longed to make it better. And yet I couldn’t.
I quickened my step, as if I could outpace my emotions, and checked my watch. It was only ten o’clock. If only I could see Kai again. Even if it was just for a few minutes. So what if he worked and took night classes, so what if he didn’t have enough money or free time or whatever? Those were excuses; they weren’t real reasons to stay apart.
And I was tired of being apart.
I broke into a run.
21
Waving, Worried
“There you are! It’s almost midnight.” Mom didn’t sound upset. Good, Smarty must have provided an alibi. I exhaled in relief.
“Is it? I must have lost track of time. Sorry.” I was shivering from the long walk home. “Mrs. Wilde says thanks for the orchids.”
Mom peered at me. “Your cheeks are pink. I’ll make cocoa. It got cold out, didn’t it? It’s going to be like this all through the weekend. You know, sweetie, I realize it’s only six blocks or so, but I would have picked you up from the Wildes’ if you’d called.”
“Nah, I was fine. Cocoa sounds good.” I rubbed my chapped hands together, then pulled off my boots and stomped my feet. The temperature had plummeted. It had even been drafty and uncomfortable in the lobby of the St. George, where eventually I’d fallen asleep waiting for Kai, who never showed.
As soon as the kettle was boiling, Dad appeared, “yawning” in the doorway. Whatever. I knew them both too well. They’d both been awake, a couple of insomniacs, ruffling their feathers, waiting for me to come back to the nest.
“Your cheek is creased,” Dad observed. “You’ve been sleeping?”
“Yep, I was. Over at Holden’s.”
It was a delicate moment of embarrassment to stew in, but I’d rather have them think that I crashed in Holden’s bed than tell them the opposite—that for the past couple of hours I’d been curled up on a plastic couch in the St. George’s dorm lobby, roused only when the security guard had shaken me and demanded to see my student ID—and then tossed me out like an orphan when he learned I had none.
Kai hadn’t been in touch at all. I felt unbearably dumb.
“Tell me about your night.” Mom spooned out the cocoa mix. “Starting with, what’s Drew’s fiancée like?”
“She’s okay.”
“Oh? Just okay?” Mom added the boiling water while Dad found a pack of campfire marshmallows in the cupboard and landed one in each mug. We slouched around the kitchen table as we had a thousand times before.
