Chapter 41
CHAPTER
FORTY-ONE
Mateo
Florian glances at the clock. “It’s time.”
Oh, no.
It’s 8 AM. Normally, I don’t mind it being 8 AM. I like the mornings. But now 8 AM means that I need to go to the airport in time for my 11 AM flight, the one that will get me to Boston so I can start work tomorrow morning.
I hate it.
“You don’t have to come with me to the airport,” I say.
Florian frowns.
“I mean because I know you have practice, and it’s your first day—”
“They won’t fire me on my first day. Probably.”
“You shouldn’t be finding that out!”
“I’ll get there in time,” Florian promises. “Most likely.”
I shake my head.
Florian is always on time.
He shouldn’t be giving people the wrong impression about him because of me.
“We’ll see each other at Christmas though,” he says. “In Puerto Rico.”
I still can’t believe he wants to do that. But there’s nothing I want more either, so there’s no way I’m telling him we shouldn’t go.
Florian only has a few days off, but I’ve used up all my vacation days. This is when we can see each other, and we will.
But when the Uber Black arrives, he gets in the car right beside me, and I don’t tell him no. I’m just grateful he’s there.
The Uber Black drives us to the airport, and large signs in primary colors appear directing us to the terminal and appropriate drop-off point.
The driver pulls over, and I turn to Florian and flash my brightest smile. “Thank you for coming with me.”
“I will accompany you to the security line.”
“But—”
“I will.”
My shoulders ease. “Thank you.”
Florian and I exit the car, and he removes my duffel bag from the trunk. I wish I’d had the good sense to get one with wheels.
He carries my bag like it’s nothing, and it probably is nothing to him. The lime green color was chosen for its ability to stand out, but against Florian’s designer jacket, it only looks garish.
Florian carries it carefully through the sliding doors all the same. The airport bustles around us.
“Do you have your boarding pass?” he asks me.
I bring it up on my phone.
“Good.” He nods, but he still looks sad, as if standing in line with me at the ticket counter might have brought him more joy.
“I’ll miss you,” I blurt out.
Florian’s eyes widen.
“I’m sorry. I—”
“Mateo.” Florian pulls me into his arms. My head rests against his chest. He runs his fingers through my hair, then removes them. “Sorry. I did not mean to mess up your hairstyle.”
“My hairstyle isn’t important,” I grumble.
“Are you certain? It’s very nice.”
I pull myself from Florian’s chest. “Thank you for having me.”
He frowns. “I liked spending time with you. Spending time with you is my favorite thing. I-I already miss you.”
“Oh.” I glance up at him.
Okay, I know Florian is not just Florian. I know Florian is also Florian Richter, new defenseman for the Nashville Twisters. I know his job comes with a salary and prestige that mine doesn’t. They already took pictures of him that they’ll start hanging from poles in downtown Nashville.
I know all these things.
But, I also know that Florian is Florian.
And maybe…
I hesitate.
I don’t need to come back here. Everyone will understand that long distance is hard. No one will think it is strange if I am no longer at Florian’s side.
I know that.
But maybe I can also be honest.
Maybe I shouldn’t keep things from Florian, even if I’m certain that it’s for his own good.
Maybe I should tell him that I really care about him.
We walk through the airport, toward the large sign that says “security.”
I turn to him.
“I love you!” I exclaim.
He looks astonished.
No, no, no. I wasn’t supposed to tell him that way. I wasn’t supposed to tell him at all.
But I want him to know. He deserves to know, even if I look foolish and naive confessing my love.
“You are wonderful, Florian. I-I thought you should know.”
Someone clears his throat behind me, and I’m totally taking up space. I can’t stand in the entrance of the line and not do anything.
“Goodbye,” I say.
I hurry further into the line.
People surge around me. A row of musicians with bulky instrument cases follows me.
“Mateo!” Florian’s voice booms over the crowd.
I glance toward him. He looks alarmed and…
Oh, God.
I did that poorly.
You’re not supposed to say ‘I love you’ for the first time in airport security lines. I’ve never said those words to anyone before. Well, only to Florian, but then that case was different.
There’s a reason you’re supposed to come armed with roses and chocolate and teddy bears. Something to make sure you’re in a private location and actually standing beside each other so you can hand off those things.
He taps his phone, and I pull mine out. There’s a text.
FLORIAN: I love you too.
My breath stops, then the world becomes hot and beautiful.
I turn to look at him, and he waves. But then it’s time to show my information to security, and when I look again, he’s gone.
I press my phone to my chest.
“Your boarding pass, sir,” the security guard says.
“Sorry! Right. I—uh—forgot you wanted that.”
The security guard’s eyes narrow, and I’m pretty sure that there is some sighing going on in the line of people behind me.
I find the boarding pass on my phone and show it to the security guard. He then looks at my license, then waves me through.
Florian loves me.
Warmth fills my chest, like someone has plonked me down in front of the sort of crackling fireplaces found in very old houses that have their chimneys intact, the kind you see in Christmas movies and advertisements for very fancy winter hotels.
Someone clears his throat behind me again.
“Sorry!” I exclaim, then I busy myself with removing my shoes, removing my laptop, removing my plastic bag of liquid toiletries, and put them in one of the many gray plastic bins. I grin. My bright liquids seem to sparkle under the plastic wrapping.
Florian loves me.
Loves me.
He said the words. Well, texted the words.
The security employee looks at me puzzled, and I apologize again, then lift the duffel bag and put it into a second gray bin.
“This way, sir,” the security officer says, gesturing to the machine that will scan me.
Florian is on the other side of the glass. He is probably outside the airport by now. Probably telling the Uber driver to hurry as fast as he can.
I need to hurry too. I have a plane to catch.
And then I realize…
Even if Florian loves me… does it matter? I’m going to Massachusetts. I’ll be a thousand miles away from him. We’ll see each other in Puerto Rico… but that will only be for a few days.
And suddenly the airport looks as dark and dreary and dreadful as it probably always has.