Luke lifts his head, surprised, and presses his mouth into a firm line. “Yeah, I can do that. Come here, you.”
He reaches out for a hug, I go in for a kiss, and he accepts me. Neither of us complain. This is no time for anything deep or passionate, but I go there anyway. Maybe it’s to make the most of what I have left, or so I can burn the minty taste of Luke’s lips into my mind, or a bit of both. Either way, my imminent departure does nothing to take our energy away.
Luke gives it back to me with the same vigor, pulling me in by the small of my back and darting his tongue into my mouthfor a few amazing seconds. Lifting a leg over me, he straddles my waist and picks up where he left off, pressing me into the back of the sofa while my hands roam under his shirt.
“Fuck, you’re amazing,” Luke mutters, breaking the kiss only to take a breath, and he’s back on me.
I didn’t have a say in any of this, and I can’t stand losing control—unless it’s to Luke. It’s different when he takes charge, and it’s the only time when giving in feels good.
And the second I let him in, I have to go.
I can't shut him out, even if I wanted to.
He knocked down my walls with the sledgehammer I gave him, and now that I’m leaving, there’s nothing left for me to hide behind.
7
LUKE
OCTOBER
There are a lot of ways I’d describe myself. Hopeless isn’t one of them. Usually.
The day Erik got the news, we became a pair of inseparable idiots. From that Saturday until Wednesday, we spent every single second within ten feet of each other—I’d wake up for work, and Erik would lounge around, help me clean the house, and cook lunch.
If he did that to try to make me want to stay together, it didn’t work. Ialreadywant to stay together. Half of me wanted to ask him to do long distance, but we’ve only known each other for less than a month. That wouldn’t be fair to him.
The best I can get, even if I’m miserable, is to do what he asked and pretend he’s not leaving.
Even so, there was no avoiding his departure. Eventually, Erik had to pack, so it’s been two days since he set foot in my apartment.
I’m an hour away from clawing at the walls like a cat on cocaine.
Erik said he could handle things himself, rebuffing my offer to help him pack. As usual, I didn’t push it. Whenever someone leaves, I’ve learned that it’s best to let it happen because there’s nothing I can do.
What is it about me and meeting people who move away? It’s like a curse.
Exhibit A: my entire friend group from university.
Exhibit B: Erik, the first guy I’ve had genuine feelings for since my ex Dylan and I broke up two years ago.
Oh, right. Dylan and I broke things off when he went abroad on exchange during fourth year. I sure know how to pick them, don’t I?
Fuck my life.
Now, though, Erik is done packing, his flight is tomorrow, and my apartment is way too quiet. It’s Friday night and I’m bored out of my mind. My thoughts go straight to Erik, and I try not to dwell on the fact that my best friend in this city is, again, someone who’s leaving in a day.
I consider texting, but he beats me to it.
Erik Norberg
Hey Luke
Hey! What’s up
I really don’t want to be at home rn
Do you want to come to mine? Or we can go for a drive
