Author: Cheryl McIntyre

“Yes,” I say even though it wasn’t a question.

“Did you ever think I might not want to see you?” He laughs softly. “Nah. Of course you didn’t.” He opens his arms and lifts his brows. “You’ve seen me.”

“Don’t be a dick. I’m trying to say goodbye.”

“Bye, Hope. Good luck and all that shit.” He turns away from me and lifts his tee shirt over his head, throwing it toward the laundry hamper against the wall. The paint is flaking off and I focus on it for several seconds.

“I don’t want to leave it like this.”

He chuckles, the sound gruff. Flipping through a pile of clothes at the foot of the bed, he finds a new shirt and works it over his head before facing me again. “Life is full of disappointments. You should really get used to it.”

I bite down on my tongue, trying to reign in the anger. Nope. It’s not working. I take a step toward him and narrow my eyes. “I am well acquainted with disappointment. Stop acting like this. We’ve known each other too long. And you said you would try. You said you wanted to be friends.”

“I wanted a lot of things. I’m over it.” He sits down and I watch him put his socks on, followed by his boots, thoroughly ignoring me.

When he stands up, I step into him and hug his waist for half a second before I spin away. I head to the stairs, my hand reaching for the railing. As my fingers touch the rippled wood, his voice sends an icy trail down my spine.

“I won’t miss you.”

I keep going, glancing over my shoulder at him. I offer him a half smile. “I won’t miss you either.”

“Not at all,” he adds, smirking.

“Not even a little.”

~*~*~*~

As I stand here with Guy, his arms cutting off all airflow to my lungs, I’m grateful for the farewell I had with Park. If it had been anything close to this, there is no way I could have handled it twice.

With his face buried in my hair, Guy picks me up, hugging me to his chest. “Shit. I didn’t think it would be this hard,” he whispers. “I don’t want you to go.”

I curl my fingers into his hair, memorizing the texture. “I won’t be far. And I’ll come home all the time,” I promise. “And you can come to me.”

“You’ll text me every day and call me every night.”

I nod against his shoulder. “We’ll Skype the weekends I can’t come home. Remind Sam to keep his clothes on. I know how he is.”

Guy laughs, his breath warm against my neck. “I can’t make any promises. That boy has been insatiable ever since the car accident. Something about enjoying every minute we’re alive.” He lowers his voice, moving closer to my ear. “I have no qualms reminding him how close to death I came. It makes him ravenous.”

I press my lips together. “Okay, on that note…” I wiggle until my feet touch the ground. We stare at each other with tear filled eyes. He touches my nose with the tip his finger and smiles.

“I’m going to go crazy without you, honey.”

“Maybe I’ll go sane,” I say with a grin.

He nods causing his blonde bangs to fall over his eyes. “Most likely.”

Annie pushes Guy out of her way and throws her arms around my neck. “Try not to gain that freshman fifteen,” she replies thickly. “If you come home with a fat ass I’ll have to pretend I don’t know you.”

She steps back and arches one thin brow. “I hear promiscuity is also an issue when girls go away to college.” She throws Mason a look before returning her attention to me. “Of course, you have that, so I’m sure you’re already a little slut.”

I exhale, blowing my hair away from my face. “The family love is overwhelming.”

She shrugs. “Send me pictures. I want to document your spiral into obesity.”

“Don’t you have to go to work,” Guy says, nudging Annie’s shoulder.

“Yes. Bye Hope.” She smiles at Mason and wiggles her fingers. “See you around Patel.”

Mason offers her a half wave and pushes off his car, coming to stand beside me. As his fingers intertwine with mine, I look at my foster family. Shit. I feel the tears stinging my eyes and start blinking quickly.

“Don’t do it,” Jenny mutters. “If you start then I’ll start.” She pulls me into the twentieth hug of the day. “Call me as soon as you get there.”

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t forget,” Alec reassures her. I smile weakly. He’s not my real dad, but he insisted on driving me like a real dad would. He claimed it was to save on the U-Haul we realized I’d need to transport my stuff since I’m leaving my precious car, Niko behind. He presses a kiss to her forehead and lowers himself into his car. Mason kisses my cheek, brushing his fingers over my neck.

“See you in a few hours.” He turns to Guy, patting his back hard. “See ya, man.”

“Take care of her,” Guy says firmly.

“Scout’s honor,” Mason replies.

I open the passenger door, but before I can get in, Dylan barrels toward me. I almost lose my balance as he throws his arms around my thighs. “I love you, Hope,” he mumbles against my leg.

This is how my heart breaks.

“Love you too, Dill Weed.”

Jenny scoops him into her arms and I drop into the seat, shutting the door as quickly as I can.

“Drive, Alec,” I whisper. Before I change my mind.

13

Mason

My new apartment isn’t much bigger than a closet, but it’s cheap, and it’s equally close to Hope and Kel. Of course, the fifteen minute drive already feels much farther when I’d become accustomed to having Hope in my arms every night.

It sucks.

A lot.

I lie in my new bed—the one that came with the apartment—and stare at the shadows passing over my ceiling with each car that drives by. I can hear the music drifting from the bar down the road. Laughter and shouting joins the cadence and I sigh.

Sleep is hard enough when I’m lying here alone.

Sliding my phone off the nightstand, I send Hope a text. I’d rather call her so I can hear her voice, but I don’t know if she’s sleeping. Plus she has a roommate now and their place is as small as my apartment. I don’t want to piss the girl off. Hope seems to like her and I’m not about to screw that up.

I don’t get a reply back, so I set my phone back up on the stand and flip to my side. I turn on the playlist Hope made for me and turn it up just loud enough to cut off the outside noise and close my eyes.

The last thought I have is of Hope.

The sun beats down on my face and I squint against it. Shading my eyes with the crook of my arm, I groan, and slap blindly for my phone.

I bring it close to my face and peer out of one eye. I have a text from Hope and it makes my stomach tighten seeing her name, Blackbird, on my phone. I smile and open the text.

Hope: MEET ME FOR LUNCH BEFORE WORK?

Me: I’M THERE. WHAT TIME?

Hope: NOON? MY SHIFT STARTS AT 2.

Me: SEE YOU THEN. I MISS YOU SO MUCH. I’LL PROBABLY BE EARLY.

Hope: MISS U 2. SO MUCH. XO

I grin and push myself out of bed. She better stay tonight. Learning to sleep without her is something I have no desire to get used to.

*******

By 11:45 I’m pulling up to Newton’s pizza. Hope was able to transfer and she likes it better here since she’s changed positions from kitchen to register. She’d rather take the orders than cook them.

I find a booth and wait for my girl. When the little bell over the door chimes, I look up and am taken aback by the change. It looks good, but I wasn’t expecting it and it just reminds me of how much I hate that she isn’t living with me.

Hope slides in across from me with a grin. I lean over the table and place a kiss on her lips. As I start to pull back, she takes hold of my shirt, holding me in place. I smile against her lips and decide I don’t give a shit how many people are around as I let my tongue glide against hers. She hums happily and a small groan sounds in my throat.

With a sigh, she sits back and her eyes are bright with desire. I’m sure we match right now.

“I like your hair,” I say huskily.

She touches it absent mindedly and rubs her lips together. “I thought I needed a change. New place and all.”

I lift a brow. “You’re beautiful. You don’t need to change a damn thing. But I do like it.” I wink at her. “You know I’m a sucker for blue.”

Smiling knowingly, Hope combs her fingers through the blue streaks. The only other color visible is her natural deep brown. My gaze flicks over it, slightly missing the multiple hues she wore just yesterday. But I know it’s only because I missed out on being a part of it.

“How are classes?” she asks.

I smirk. “Early.”

She laughs lightly. As she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear I do a double take. “What happened to your ears?” I reach toward her, but let my hand fall to the table. Her gauges are dramatically smaller. How the hell did I not notice that happening?

“I took them out for a few days. Wanted to go down a few sizes.” She shrugs. “I might just let them close.”

“Huh.” That’s all I manage because I’m not sure how to feel about it. They’re her ears. She can do what she wants with them, and honestly, it’d be nice to be able to suck her lobes into my mouth for once, but it’s too much. Too much change all at once.

I have this image flash through my mind. Hope with plain brown hair, normal earlobes, sporting Abercrombie and Uggs, mixing into the swell of college students. And me, not being able to find her.

A chill of dread pulls goose bumps across my arms and I bite down on my lip.

“What?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. You look good.” I force a smile. “You’re gorgeous.”

She returns the smile, but it looks as fake as the one on my face. Something twists in my stomach as I try to ignore the doubt swimming through my head.

14

Hope

My roommate’s name is Tatum. She’s only seventeen and looks no older than fifteen. Her love of music rivals mine. She’s quickly becoming a good friend and we just click. With her blonde hair, baby face, and willingness to put up with my shit which is so akin to Guy, that I secretly refer to her as “The Female Guy.” Or as I also nicknamed her in my phone—Girl. I think it’s hilarious, but when I explained this to Guy, he didn’t see the humor.

I think he’s jealous, but he’d never admit that aloud.

Other than Tatum, I’m friendless. I’m really starting to feel the miles between my family and myself.

I’ve thrown myself into school. It’s so much harder than I thought it would be and I haven’t told Mason, but I get so frustrated sometimes. I don’t regret moving here. Mason is happy and I’m heading toward a goal I truly want. It’s just…hard.

I usually walk away from hard.

I bought a box of razor blades today. I didn’t use them. I haven’t even opened them. But I purposely went to the store, picked up the box, walked it right up to the register, and smiled at the cashier as I paid for them.

Now I stare at them, sitting inside the top drawer of my nightstand.

A reminder of just how hard everything is.

As long as I don’t open them, they represent that I’m getting by—even as hard as each day seems, I made it through another one.

They’re like some fucked up version of a security blanket. Only I can’t wrap this one around myself.

I shove the drawer shut and pick up my phone. My fingers brush over the screen, pulling up a picture of Guy and Park. I bite the inside of my cheek as I stare at their faces. So familiar, yet so far away, they feel foreign.

I start up the laptop on my desk and plop down on the chair. Spinning myself in circles, I let my eyes slide over Tatum’s side of the room, and then mine. Tatum’s. Mine. Tatum’s. Mine.