This Summer #4
“Can I take you to the airport tomorrow?” Will asks when I don’t reply.
“Helena’s taking me,” I say. “But thank you.”
Will’s mouth twists.
“You know…” His eyes flash with something urgent. Will does his goldfish thing, the opening and closing his mouth when he wants to say something but just can’t. In the end, he presses his lips together and drops his head. “This is nice,” he says.
I bite the inside of my cheek and stare resolutely off to the right, somewhere distant, and not at Will Gray’s face.
“It’s always nice to catch up with an old friend,” I say.
Somewhere, a bell rings. “Last call!” says the bartender.
I straighten my back and my smile, and so does Will. We are our public personas once more.
“Alex, I…” For a moment, desperation flashes across his face. He presses the tip of his tongue to the corner of his mouth. “I hope you give a reading in my neck of the woods someday,” he finally says.
I nod five or six times before saying, “Well, maybe you’ll…give a consult near me at some point in the future.”
Will laughs, and even to my ears, it sounds sad.
Mom and Dad are packing up. The waiters are uncoiling vacuums, stacking chairs.
“I should go,” I say.
“Me too.”
“It was wonderful to see you, Will,” I say.
“It was wonderful to see you, too, Alex.” Slowly, so I can dodge him if I want, he opens his arms and steps forward, an invitation for a hug.
I take it.
We wrap our arms around each other, and for a moment, I’m eighteen, I’m nineteen, I’m twenty, I’m twenty-one, and it’s every best moment from the last four years wrapped into this one deep breath I’m taking. It smells like ocean salt, sunscreen, and Will, Will, Will.
I know that I will burst into tears as soon as I get in my car tonight, and I’ll cry hard the entire ride home.
The banging on my apartment door wakes me up. When I look at the clock, I groan. It’s only eight in the morning. I nearly trip on my packed suitcases as the banging grows louder, more insistent.
“Heli, you are five hours early,” I snarl through the door. When I open it, I freeze.
Standing there, leaning one arm against the doorframe, looking disheveled, exhausted, and gorgeous, is Will Gray.
“I know it’s a crime to wake you before noon on a Saturday,” he says. “But I wasn’t sure when your flight left.” I’m shocked to see that his eyes are as puffy and red as mine.
“Will…” I suck in a breath. “What are you—”
“I did read it. Your chapbook.” Will leans his head against the doorframe. “Fragile and Fierce. You were never fragile, just so you know. Only fierce. I mean, I know your point was that you can be both, but…” He swallows hard. “You’ll sign a copy for me, won’t you?”
My breathing hitches, and I’m already shaking my head.
“No,” I say, my throat closing. “Oh no. Will, you need to go.”
“Don’t, Alex,” Will pleads. “Don’t send me away.” I tuck my arms tight against my belly.
“I have to,” I say hoarsely. “I have to send you away. Now.”
“Why?” I can’t look away from Will’s wide, earnest eyes.
“Because,” I wrench out, “I was possibly, maybe, finally starting to think that maybe one day I’d get over you.” A terrible, familiar ache rises within me.
“Oh,” Will says softly. “Oh, Alex, don’t. Please don’t.” He gives me a small, sad smile. “Because I don’t stand a chance of ever getting over you.”
I shake my head once to the left, once to the right. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to keep it from trembling.
“I don’t believe you,” I breathe, because even I have more self-preservation than that.
“I don’t blame you,” Will whispers, plaintive.
“After how I…I don’t blame you.” He drags a hand through his hair, last night’s mousse making it splay like palm tree fronds.
“It’d serve me right if you got over me right here, right now.
It’d only be fair for me to love you from afar until I was just a hairless, toothless, sightless pair of ears.
” He frowns. “I didn’t mean to sound so— This is self-pitying, that’s not— I’m messing this all—”
“Will,” I say. “Did you say love?”
Will stares at me, wide-eyed, his face raw, his hands shaking.
“Yeah, Alex. I did. But before that, I wanted to say—I was supposed to say—I’m so, so, so—a million sos—sorry.
” Will shakes his head sorrowfully. “I’ve had a lot of time to think over this past year.
A lot. It didn’t take long to realize I was a fucking coward.
I said things I didn’t mean because I was terrified to lose you.
” He wipes a hand down his face. “I lost you anyway.”
My eyes are burning. “Will.” I can’t stop shaking my head.
Will takes a cautious step closer to me.
“I learned,” he says, taking another step, “that I am desperately”—and another step—“world-endingly”—and another step—“soul-crushingly…” Will stands before me, and when he cups my cheek, I lean into it, my eyes spilling over.
“…in love with you, Alex.” He leans in and presses our foreheads together. “And I have been for a while now.”
I swallow hard. “So, when we were at that carnival—”
“I wanted to win you every stuffed animal in Atlanta.”
“And when I poured my heart out to you—”
“I’ve spent every night since then replaying it in my head, word for word.” Will looks ruined. His hair is a mess. There are shadows under his eyes. His clothes are wrinkled.
He’s never been more beautiful.
“You’re serious,” I say. I can’t manage more than a rough whisper.
“I’m serious,” Will says solemnly. “Even if you don’t choose me, I choose you.” He steps into my space, and I cling to him, shaking.
“Really?” I say, cracked all the way open.
“Really,” he says. “But if we do this, you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”
“So, I can finally call you my boyfriend?” I say.
“Only if I can call you my soulmate,” Will says softly, and then he kisses me.