Chapter Thirty-One
For so long, New York City was a daydream.
This very real place I’d created my own version of in my mind, made up entirely of images and videos I’d seen online or on TV and in movies, or read about in books.
Sometimes it felt so close, so real, that I could almost taste and smell it.
I worried that maybe I’d built it up in my head to be better than it was.
And in some ways, I had. It’s crowded here.
And loud. The city streets are littered with trash and cigarette butts.
People don’t smile as much as they do back home. And everyone is always in a rush.
When we pulled up to the hotel, I had a moment of underwhelm. This city I’d been dreaming about for half my life, a city I planned to spend my college years in, was, for lack of a better word, squishy.
But something funny happened when I stepped off the bus and breathed in the gasoline-scented air: I came alive.
A switch turned on, lighting me up from within.
It didn’t mean I stopped noticing the less-picturesque parts of the city, the parts the movies and books leave out.
Instead, it left me with a new appreciation for a place that demands you must work harder to see the beauty that lies within.
And I had a feeling that I’d get there. Give or take five days.
We arrived late afternoon, and we were told to meet in the lobby of the hotel at six to explore the city on foot and find somewhere to eat.
Before we got off the bus, Mrs. Morales reminded us that the boys’ rooms would be on one side of the hall, the girls’ on the other, and that she and Mr. Chang would be taking turns staking out the hallway at night.
A very binary way of thinking, but it’s not surprising.
I’m sharing a room with two seniors who are best friends.
I try to fight off multiple pangs of jealousy watching them unpack and exchange inside jokes.
They’re nice enough, Claire and Maya, but I don’t expect to be welcomed into their relationship.
And I don’t blame them. Andie and I would be the exact same.
Not that we’d purposely ignore the sad third girl in our room.
We just probably wouldn’t even notice her.
One benefit is that I get my own bed.
As Claire and Maya take turns freshening up in the bathroom, I text Andie.
Me: Guess what?
Andie: You’re in NEW YORK!
Me: Well, yeah but also JOHN brODY IS HERE!!!!
Andie: NO DUCKING WAY
Me: YES DUCKING WAY
Andie: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Me: My thoughts exactly!!!
Andie: Have you spoken yet?
Me: We sat next to each other on the bus. Ten glorious hours of just being with him. I’m so screwed. How am I supposed to get over him when he’s here?
Andie: I say you spend the next few days trying to figure out how to get UNDER him And give me ALL. THE. DETAILS.
Me: I will. I promise. Not that I’m confirming anything will happen.
Andie: LENNON YOU ARE IN NEW YORK CITY WITH JOHN THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE DO YOU KNOW HOW AMAZING THAT IS? IT’S GIVING 90s ROMCOM!
Me: I don’t want to get my hopes too high.
Andie: Please do! You deserve it!
Me: I’ll keep an open mind.
Andie: IM SO EXCITED FOR YOU!
Me: ME TOO!!!!
“Lennon?”
I look up from my phone to see Claire standing at the foot of my bed.
“Yeah?”
“The bathroom’s free if you want to use it. We’re going to head down now,” she says. Maya is already by the door, her hand on the lever. “You have a key card, right?”
I glance to the nightstand. “Yep. Right here,” I say, picking it up.
“Okay. See you in a few.”
As Maya and Claire leave the room, I take in a deep breath. I’m here. In New York City. And John’s here too. I grab a pillow to cover my face and bury an excited squeal!
That first night, John sidled up next to me and stayed there as we all walked along the streets of Manhattan, searching for somewhere to eat.
He asked if I minded him hanging around, and I could tell that even though he was trying to pass it off as a joke, he wanted to make it clear that it was up to me.
I considered his question carefully. John’s going to graduate in a few weeks.
This could be the last time we’d have to spend together, uninterrupted.
So I told him that I wanted him there. I can’t think of a better way to spend my first time exploring New York City than with someone who, regardless of what happens, will always be important to me.
Lying in my hotel bed that night, I text back and forth with John.
The space between us is closing, and it’s happening much more easily and much faster than I ever could have imagined.
A lot can happen in five months. A lot of things can change.
People change. Feelings can definitely change. Possibly fade away.
I’m falling again. And I think he might be too.
The room is still dark when I wake up. Claire and Maya are fast asleep. I blink my eyes open before reaching for my phone: 5:00 a.m. And there’s a message from John, time-stamped only a few minutes ago.
John: You awake?
I sit up, trying to wipe the sleep from my eyes before typing.
Me: Yeah. Just now. What’s up?
John: I’m too revved up to sleep any longer. Want to check out the hotel pool? It opens at 5:30.
Me: What about Morales and Chang?
John: We’ll be back in our rooms before they even wake up. Our bus isn’t coming until 9:30.
I stare up at the ceiling, mulling over John’s invitation. I did bring a bathing suit.
And even if we do get caught, which isn’t likely this early in the day, no one has technically told us we can’t use the pool in the morning.
Me: I’ll meet you by the elevators in fifteen.
John: Sweet.
I stumble around the dark hotel room, searching through my bag for my two-piece. I pull it out of the sock I stuffed it into. Using my phone as a flashlight, I tiptoe into the bathroom.
After a morning pee, face wash, and toothbrushing, I change into the raspberry-colored bathing suit.
Studying my reflection in the mirror, I run my hands over my bare stomach.
This is too much, and yet not enough. I wrap a towel around my body and go back to the room, searching the bag for my one-piece.
Back in the bathroom I change into it. This feels more like me.
I throw my hair into a high pony and slap on some face cream, hoping it will de-puff my sleep-deprived face.
I put my T-shirt back on, along with the sweatpants I slept in and grab my things before slipping out of the room, undetected.
John’s already at the elevators when I arrive. Messy, tousled hair. Wrinkled white T-shirt. Teal swimming trunks. And not one pillow crease on his perfect face.
“Morning,” he says, his voice a little scratchy. “How did you sleep?” He presses the elevator button.
“Okay. Sort of. I had kind of a hard time settling.”
“Same.” He nods. “I really needed this trip, though.”
The doors open and he gestures for me to go in first. He presses the top button and smiles sweetly. “Rooftop pool.”
“Nice.”
Our ride up is silent, but comfortable. I follow John out of the elevator and down the narrow hallway toward the heavy doors that exit onto the roof. There’s a sign that reads “NO LIFEGUARD ON DUTY. USE AT OWN RISK.” I stall.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, looking back at me.
“If something bad happens, we could get into a lot of trouble,” I say. “Or get our teachers in trouble.”
“We’ll be careful,” he says, in a calm, reassuring voice. “I’m a strong swimmer. So are you.”
“But accidents happen all the time. People slip and fall and bang their heads on the concrete. Or what if we’re looking out over the view and the railing collapses and we fall forty stories to our death?”
“Lennon, if you don’t want to do this, we can go back to our rooms. I just thought it would be a fun bucket list item. Watching the sun rise over Manhattan from a rooftop pool. I mean, when are we ever going to have a chance to do this again?”
His jaw clenches as he waits for my response. I run through all the possibilities in my mind. John’s lips curl into a smile, and the possibilities shift from scary what-ifs to exciting what-ifs.
“Okay,” I say. “You’re right.”
He grins as we walk through the doors, together.
He wastes no time pulling off his T-shirt and jumping in.
I pick up his shirt and towel and place them on a lounger.
When he surfaces, the pink and orange light of dawn bounces off his glistening, wet shoulders.
He’s golden. John swims to where I’m standing, his arms bent over the coping. “The water feels amazing.”
I slip off my slides and remove my clothes before tossing everything on the lounger next to John’s. I carefully step into the pool, taking in the view.
John swims up to me and holds out his hand. As soon as we make contact, goosebumps surface. I try to swallow back the nerves bubbling over. Before I can come up with something smart to say, he pulls me into the pool with him, wrapping his arms around my body.
Just like that. Two puzzle pieces clicking into place.
Without overthinking it, I hold him close to me, pressing my chest against his.
“Good morning,” he says again, smiling down at me.
“Morning,” I reply, my heart thumping in my ears. “You know…” I pause to swallow as his gaze lingers. “Greetings like ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ don’t come naturally to me. I know people say it, just to say it. To be polite, or whatever. But I only like to say it if I mean it.”
John’s eyes twinkle as he sucks in his cheeks. “Did you mean it?”
I bite on my lip and nod. “Yeah.”
He closes his eyes, his chest rising ever so slightly. When his eyes flick open, there’s a longing that is both intoxicating and familiar. “I really want to kiss you,” he says, in a low, raspy voice.
“I really want you to kiss me.”
John presses his lips to mine, our bodies completely entangled. Hands moving freely, mouths mashed together, hearts pounding. We melt into one another, pulling apart only to look up at the brightening sky. My breath literally taken away.
John kisses my neck before placing gentle kisses on my shoulder. The kind of kisses that make me grateful I’m floating in a pool, knowing the weight of his love would have me falling to my knees.
“This feels like a dream,” I say.
He shakes his head. “This is better than any dream. This is real. You. Me. New York City. No parents. No timelines. Just us.” He slides a piece of hair away from my face, kissing my cheeks, then nose, then lips again.
“What do they say? Right person, wrong time?”
“Do you believe that?” he asks. Drops of water rest on his broad shoulders, making his lightly freckled skin shimmer. My legs remain wrapped around him as we drift into the deep end of the empty pool.
“Timing. Opportunities. Chance. I don’t know. I think that, for whatever reason, obstacles have been placed in front of us, and it’s up to you and me to decide if we’re worth fighting for.”
He stares at me with deep intensity. “I’ve never thought you weren’t worth fighting for, Lennon.”
“Then why did you pull away? Why do you keep pulling away?”
John releases me with the question and I move to the pool ladder, looping my arm through the handrail.
He treads water across from me, his arms moving in large, slow strokes. A small ripple of waves travels from where he is to me. “My dad relapsed after Christmas. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to burden you with my shit. And I was embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed?”
“I felt like such an idiot for believing he had changed for good after rehab. I thought once he returned to work, I could focus on my own stuff. But then he relapsed and refused to go to rehab or AA meetings or even meet with his sponsor. I knew it meant things would get way worse before they’d get better, if they’d get better.
I walked away from you, from us, because I had to.
Not because I wanted to, and not because of anything you did. ”
John swims to the shallow end and I follow.
“You could have told me,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself. “I would have been there for you.”
“I know you would have,” he says, moving closer.
“But it wouldn’t have been fair to either of us.
To start something up again with all this heaviness.
” He looks to the sky then back at me. “I have a hard time asking for help. Probably because I see my father constantly needing it and I don’t want to burden people the way he’s… ”
He trails off and looks down.
I lower my eyes to meet his. “It’s okay to be angry at your father.”
“But it’s a disease. You wouldn’t be angry at someone for having cancer.”
“It’s not selfish to want more for yourself,” I say. “To hope for things to change.”
“Not selfish. Stupid, maybe. Hope hurts.”
“No.” I shake my head. “You can’t lose hope. Without it there’s nothing left. I almost lost hope for us, and then I saw you walk onto the bus.”
“You did look pretty happy to see me,” he says with a beaming smile.
John moves in close. He holds my face, the tips of his fingers threaded in my hair.
“I was a mess the entire time you were with Theo,” he says, lowering his hands. “The worst part was the fear I had that you’d eventually see for yourself what everyone else saw. That you and Theo make sense. More than you and I ever could.”
“You can’t make sense with someone you don’t love,” I say, keeping my eyes on his.
“He loved you.”
“But I didn’t love him back. I’ve only ever loved one person,” I say, fully pressing myself to him. “I knew I loved you after our first kiss. Almost two years ago. Probably even before that.”
John’s eyes search mine. “I love you,” he says, just above a whisper. I hold my breath, focused on the water drops that have collected in the small dips of his collarbones. “I’ve always loved you. I’ve never stopped loving you, and I will never stop loving you.”
We kiss again, slowly. Gently. Savoring one another as daylight takes over the sky.
Beneath the sun’s bright rays, we can’t hide how we feel for each other, and I don’t want to.
We’ve spent too much time in the shadows, pushing away the potential of us.
Everything we were and everything we could have been.
But no more could-haves. No more should-haves. I don’t want to live my life that way anymore.
We fall into the water, bodies still intertwined, and I close my eyes, basking in this moment.
This one perfect moment.