Our Last Time: A Novel (15 page)

“Thank you for wanting me, and expressing your feelings in more ways than you’re used to.”

“Was it too much?” he countered.

“Not even close,” I answered.

He smiled a half-smile, and I watched him as he studied my face. “How could you ask such a ridiculous question? You have this gorgeous face,” he said, before laying his hand over my chest. “You have this heart that cares for everyone, even the heartless. How could I not be attracted to you, Willow? There’s nothing unattractive about you. Even your New Balance sneakers and your floral ankle socks are a turn-on for me,” he suddenly grinned, and I smiled as I shook my head.

“Your thanksgiving-ham-thighs are sexy as fuck in those pants.”

“Yeah?” he leaned down and kissed my lips once, but only for less than a second.

“Yeah, and your feet look better covered.”

He chuckled, loudly. “That’s not a compliment.”

“It’s not an insult, either,” I pointed out.

He sighed, and all I could feel was the side of his hand, as he continuously caressed my cheek. Then he threaded his fingers in my hair. “You look sexy as fuck with your hair down. But you look sexy as fuck when it’s up, too.”

He kissed my neck once and I shivered.

“You know, people are going to start coming in for this hall, Wyatt. Maybe soon, like, within minutes. Are you sure you want to continue with this escapade?”

I kissed his lips hard, then he froze. “I guess we should get back to our boring lives. For now,” he said.

“For now,” I nodded.

He kissed me twice before backing away, but no tongue was involved. His lips alone were good enough, though I’d miss them throughout the day.

June 14
th
, 1997, 12:01a.m.

Willow

I was being shaken.
I had actually managed to fall asleep before midnight for the first time in ten days. Who was attempting to wake me up right now? I was thinking it was my mom because my dad wouldn’t wake me up at this time. Even though it was my eighteenth birthday as of now, I had preferred to sleep because I was actually able to.

“Annabelle, can we celebrate in eight hours? I’m pretty beat,” I grumbled, as I tried to wiggle closer to the farthest side of my bed. I irritably pulled the covers up, tucking the end of the comforter under my chin.

“You shouldn’t call your momma by her first name, Willow.”

I stiffened because it was
his
voice and the last time I saw him was ten days ago. After finding out all the details of his lifespan, I stubbornly decided that I needed space for a few days. I had told him that I hadn’t known when it wouldn’t hurt to look at him. I was terrified of life after Kennedy and I refused to think about it. But now, it was time to pretend. I had to suck it up,
now
, because I loved Kennedy and we needed each other while we had each other. I couldn’t be stubborn anymore. We had a limited time. We had to make the best of our time together like he had said, and I knew that.

At that moment - I had decided that I hadn’t wanted to sleep anymore. I wanted to hug Kennedy, so
I did
.

“Happy birthday, Willow.”

He wrapped his arms around me. I fisted the back of his t-shirt in my hands and I decided then that I wouldn’t cry anymore, either. Not now. Not until our last Hello, because then, it would no longer be a choice. It would be out of anyone’s control once it was our last time, I had thought.

“How are we going to celebrate this big eighteen?” I asked, as I pulled back so I could show him my smile and my
willpower
to get the hell out of bed.

“Um,” he paused. His blue eyes twinkled a little before he smiled in return. “I was thinking we could do something out of your element. I’m certain you have hesitations when it comes to indecent exposure in public.”

He lifted his eyebrows. He was daring me, but the thing with that was we had already done it once. I wanted to do something completely different.  I wanted to do something with Kennedy that neither of us had done ever before.

“What about something different, but equally out of my element? Something we’ve never done before,” I said in a hushed voice.

“Yeah?” he whispered. “Hmm…” he paused, thinking. “You wanna steal my grandad’s boat and go sailing?”

“You’re crazy,” I answered immediately.

“No, Will, I have a plan,” he insisted. “The boat isn’t even close to my grandparents’ house. It’s chained at his shared lake a few miles away. We’d easily get away with it as long as we’d be back before six in the morning. Grandad goes sailing with my grandma every morning at seven-thirty. Also, my grandad loves me. He probably wouldn’t even care.”

I had thought about it for a second, because I was afraid it would go wrong and I was always in that state of mind. “Your grandad’s boat is really nice. I think he’d care a lot,” I pointed out.

“As long as we don’t crash it and burn it to nothing, probably not, Will. Trust me,” he urged.

“Keys?” I asked parentally, per usual.

“My pocket, actually,” he answered. “I snagged them this morning. My momma visited the animals yesterday while my grandparents were out, and I went with her specifically so I could get these keys. And I know you’re worrying about me putting them back before they notice, but I’ll take care of that. Everything will be perfect for us, I promise.”

He took out the keys and wiggled them a little before putting them back in his pocket.

“What?” I scrunched my eyebrows, dumbfounded. “Then why’d you even suggest streaking again?” I asked curiously.

He shrugged. “I had the boat ride planned all along. I was only suggesting streaking again because I figured it’d be worth a try,” he smirked and I punched him softly in the shoulder.

“Yeah, whatever,” I grinned. “What time do we take off?”

He took a peek at his wrist; the invisible watch trick, as he called it. “Well, it’s already your birthday. What time is better than now?”

“Activities for the boat ride?” I counter-questioned.

“Ah,” he tipped his chin. “I might have
one
substance we can try. And grandad keeps wine onboard, so we’ll probably be able to snag a bottle.”

“Yeah, I thought I smelt marijuana,” I sighed. “I’m always a fan of wine. But if it’s a corked bottle, you’re opening it. You know that shit freaks me out.”

His eyes became wild with excitement. “You’ll
actually
smoke pot with me for the first time today?” he asked incredulously.

“What day is better than today?” I smiled warmly.

“It’ll be the
best
day,” he shook his head, grinning. He was so happy; he was itching to get on with his grand plan.

So we went and we rode our bikes for a few miles until we came to find his grandad’s boat. We had sailed off. There was a wine bottle half full on the rack, so we finished it off. It was good wine. We smoked a joint and we got high. I decided then that I enjoyed the effects marijuana provided.

Or maybe it was just Kennedy and marijuana and wine. I hadn’t changed out of my pajamas that night and I was able to pretend that Kennedy wasn’t dying.

At exactly five-fifty in the morning on my birthday, we sailed back, chained the boat where we found it, and we went to our home. We stayed at our home and sat on our bean bags for a few hours. We talked about random things before we eventually fell asleep. I dreamt the night as if it happened twice. I knew then that I would
never
forget it.

September 1
st
, 2006, 3:30p.m.

Willow

I couldn’t wait.
I had no restraint and the curiosity was too much for me to suffer through all day. I hadn’t wanted to just
wonder
what it could have said. I wanted to know, so I read it as soon as I got in my car yesterday.

Let me start off by saying, "good morning, Willow."

Now let me fill you in real quick - I'm going to fall in love with you. I'm not being irrational by saying that. I just know, and I want you to know in case you're not ready to love me back. And I know you're not going to like that I wrote all of this on a sticky note, but Willow, this is what I do. I write down the feelings that I’m afraid of.

I hope for lots of things involving us, Willow.

Find me when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting for you. Always you.

When I got home, I pinned it to my calendar in my bedroom, where I decided it would stay. I hadn’t really known how to handle Wyatt’s words in a useful sense, but I knew one thing. I felt the exact same way as he did and I was going to tell him just that.

It was my first day off; I had a four-day vacation planned for me, Annette, and Caitlyn. We were going to visit my family in Nolensville, Tennessee. I had bought our plane tickets, and we all had to be at the airport by five in the afternoon. I packed my and Annette’s bags, and Caitlyn said she’d take care of her
‘shit’
before Annette and I came back to the apartment.

I had written a note of my own for Wyatt. I wasn’t going to leave for four days without giving him a response. Neither of us could bear that. I’d miss him a lot and the anticipation of seeing him again would get to me, but this vacation was much needed. I hadn’t seen my parents in a long time. It had been a year since Annette and I had last seen them.

There was also Trace Danes, Kennedy’s mother. Annette and I had missed her, too. I needed to tell my family the truth. Trace was also my family. She was Annette’s grandmother, but even after eight years, no one but me knew that fact. I’d have to come clean eventually. It was only fair. I was ready to get it off my chest, and let it be known.

I called my mom and dad yesterday, and had talked to them about visiting - about coming
home
. They were all for it, of course. They were excited parents, excited grandparents. They were ready for us. They even begged for us to bring Caitlyn along, too, and that only took a little bit of convincing on my end. I agreed to pay for the groceries for the next two months, so Caitlyn would go with us.

“You have to engage in conversation, and go out with us if we go out, though,” I had told her at the time.

She had only groaned once before saying, “Yeah, okay.”

Now I was at the school to pick up Annette. I parked this time instead of waiting in the parent pick-up circle, because I was going to go inside. I had to give attendance an excuse for the days Annette wouldn’t be at school.

Then there was her teacher, who I’d have to get her homework from. Wyatt was all over my mind and homework was the last thing I wanted to ask him for. I had a torn piece of paper in my hand.

Morning, Wyatt. Or should I say 'good afternoon'?

It's pretty obvious that I'm down for what you're down for. Let's not beat around the bush, shall we?

Yes. I am aware that I will fall in love with you. And yes, I'm ok with that. I'll find you in 4 days, Mr. Blanquette. I'm visiting my family in Tennessee. I'm sure you and your right hand will have fun while I'm gone. xoxo

I had folded the note before pocketing it.  This was my response to Wyatt’s note, and I only wrote a note because that was fair game. And there’d also be people in the halls this time around, so I wouldn’t had been able to just say it.

I walked at a fast pace after automatically locking my car. I was wearing khaki shorts and a white V-neck t-shirt, along with a pair of Keds. I looked like a soccer mom, but my attire for today was arranged
accidentally
. I had my father in mind when I dressed myself, because I’d be seeing him later today. I had asked myself - what would
dad
prefer to see me wearing?

My dad, Marshall, was a conservative golfer. He hated open-toed shoes; he had always said flip flops or sandals were useless footwear. My mother had always worn open-toed shoes just to mock him, but it was only funny when she did that. Back in the day, I’d catch absolute
hell
if he caught me wearing shoes that showed off my toes. I had learned my lesson a long time ago.

It wasn’t until I got out of the car when I realized my outfit wasn’t very inviting, or enticing.  Wyatt would see me in this outfit and I wasn’t technically excited about his reaction.

It wasn’t until I opened the door to the school when I decided to worry about it less. Wyatt was staring at me. Though there were swarms of small children separating us, it hadn’t taken much time at all for me to catch him across the hall. It appeared that he was heading towards attendance, which was where I was heading.

We soon found each other at the open entrance, next to the big window where we could see the attendance workers on their computers.

We made eye contact as we both stood there.

“Willow.” He said my name, in a greeting sense, I presumed.

I hadn’t said anything. I took the note from my pocket and immediately handed it to him.

He took it slowly, his eyes curious. “When should I read this note you just handed to me?” he asked.

I made a circle gesture with my finger. “Turn around, read it, face me again, then voice your response,” I instructed.

He chuckled. “Okay, then.”

He did as I asked, and I admired his ass in
his own
pair of khakis. He was wearing a turquoise sweater, too, and I immediately thought of yesterday and what he was wearing then.

Wyatt’s favorite color is blue,
I thought.

He turned as I watched him gently place the note in his pocket. He grinned, suddenly. “I can’t voice my response to that here. My classroom?”

“Uh,” I paused, thinking.

“It’ll only take a second,” he assured me.

Annette was waiting outside for me. That made me nervous, but I figured this exchange with Wyatt was important. It
was
important. Annette would wait on the bench. She told me that she always waited on the bench when Caitlyn came to pick her up while I was pinned at work. She’d be okay. I needed to chill out.

I determined then that I’d call attendance instead. “Yeah, okay, sure.”

I followed behind Wyatt and we were soon entering his classroom. He turned to face me after I had shut his door.

“I’m not trying to make this an awkward start,” he blurted out. “There’s just a point where a guy endures enough hurt, you know? I’ve developed a strong guard. Sure, I was afraid you’d walk away after I told you all of that stuff, but Willow - I’m so glad you
didn’t.
I’m so glad you proved to be the woman I believed you to be,” he spoke his words slowly, so I’d know they weren’t forced - so I’d know they were
real words
. His eyes I just ate up with mine, because they were there for me to take and I couldn’t resist.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he held up a finger. “Not so fast,” he smiled, his eyebrow hitched. “I want your response on paper. I want your response on -” he paused, moving to search his desk. He opened a notebook and tore a piece of a blank page out of it. “I want your response on
this paper
,” he insisted, as he handed me the torn notebook paper. He grabbed a pen from his desk and handed me that, too.

I looked at the paper blankly, and then I said, “Okay,” without hesitation before turning away from him so I’d be facing the lines of desks. I sat in the first one along the middle row. I started writing as I sat there, the pen clutched tightly in my hand.

I need you to understand something, Wyatt.

It's complicated, but I can't go another

day without telling you.

I need you.

Those are the first three words I wrote

on this paper, and they're the truest words

I've ever written.

I need you like you need me, and I'll miss you

while I'm gone.

Just you.

Kisses to make up for four days?

As of now, kissing is my favorite

thing to do with you.

I wonder what you taste

like today. The only

taste of you that

I remember is

orange

juice.

xoxo

I had gotten up from the desk. I walked up to him, our eyes connected, and I gave him the note without even folding it. “Read it now,” I had told him.

He had no argument as he quickly looked down and started reading my words. The curiosity he wasn’t going to let get to him. Not when I insisted he read it in front of me - right that very second.

He looked up from the note when he was done reading it, his eyes intense and his posture restless.

Instead of giving me words, he gave me what I wanted. He grabbed me, and he kissed me. Hard kisses, soft kisses,
just enough to make me melt
kisses.
Wyatt
kisses. We just kissed for a few minutes, my arms and his one functional arm wrapped around each other. I gave him a few of my own kisses and I could tell he appreciated them by the way he came back, and gave me a kiss that made me feel all over.

His kiss was like a wave against my body, his body, our mouths, and our fingers as they laced together.

Once we stopped kissing, we stood there in a silent embrace. All we heard was our own breaths.

Instead of wording a goodbye, he stepped away from me, ripped another piece of paper out of his notebook, and scribbled his words on the paper. Then he handed the note to me after folding it twice.

I knew to read it whenever I’d be alone.

“Four days,” he said.

I pocketed the note before nodding. “Four days,” I repeated his words.