He pulls back, so much emotion in his eyes, and my breath catches. Inside my chest, my heart is bouncing around, my skin breaking out in a cold sweat and goose bumps. This feels like the moment. The one I’ve been waiting for ever since I saw him in the hallway my freshman year of high school.
A beat passes. And then two.
“I wish our families were better. I wish they were more supportive. I wish I could erase all the ugly things I said. But just know, that wherever we end up in life, I will always be here for you. You can always talk to me, always count on me. I think you’re the most special, unique person I’ve ever met. And I always want you in my life.”
While his words are beautiful, they’re not the ones I thought he would say.
They also sound suspiciously like foreshadowing. Like life will take us in different directions.
And while I appreciate him coming to the theater, talking this out, and making things right, I can’t help the niggle of doubt in my heart that we’re heading for the end of us before we even got the chance to be an us.
32
Taya
“So this is what it’s like in here. I always wondered.”
I turn in a slow circle, taking in all the equipment in the dark radio booth. Lights blink and beep, music posters from artists past coat every inch of the wall, and there are records stacked up in one corner. A giant Mac computer, like the hub or brain of the entire room, hums in the center of the desk, and pulled up is a library of what I’m sure are hundreds of thousands of songs.
“This is my mecca,” Austin confirms as he nods.
It suits him. I saw his body relax the instant we walked in here. Austin carries a lot of weight and pressure on his shoulders, even now after choosing his own happiness over his family. Of course, I’m attracted to him in part because he’s very confident and sure of what he wants. But there was something about him entering this space that highlighted that, that made me believe even further that this is what he’s meant to do.
I sit down in a chair in the corner as he takes his seat at the computer and slips headphones over his ears. I watch him work for a while, announcing the song in that smooth radio voice of his. The one that makes my girly parts all tingly.
We decided that I should accompany him for one of his last shifts at the college station. He had to cover for a freshman and volunteered with ease for the graveyard shift tonight. I think he wanted to do one last one of these, even if it means staying in a school building until three a.m. It’s nostalgia, and a place he’ll never get to work again in a week or two.
There doesn’t need to be any talking about how much this station has meant to him over his time here at Talcott. I can see it in his body language, in the way he flits around the room, rolling his chair from this control board to that one.
There are other things I’ve seen in his body language recently. Namely, that he’s distancing himself from me. I can feel us slipping apart. Sure, we made up at the movie theater, but it hasn’t been the same since. The way he’s putting me at arm’s length grows wider by the minute, and with finals and Austin’s plans coming together about his move, we’re spending less and less time together. For the first time since we became an us, I slept in my bed, alone, the other night. It was odd, and I hated every minute of it, but Austin claimed he needed rest for one of his finals the next day.
Really, he’s pulling away.
What it comes down to at the end of the day is bad timing. We’ve always had it. I was too young for him to notice me in high school. I waited too long to make anything happen in college. If I really wanted to make my feelings known or follow that crush, there were ways I could have sought him out at a party or something and acted on it. But I waited until he moved into our house, without my prior knowledge. And then there was bad timing there, with the arrival of the letter. It sped up and forced us to confront things that would have come way later down the road in any relationship.
Now he’s leaving. Our timing couldn’t be worse. He graduates in a week and a half, and my heart is hanging on by a thread. I’m so happy for him that he’s going to New York City to pursue his dream. That he’s escaping Webton and all that comes with being born with his last name.
But I’m devastated for me. New York City is only about three hours from here, but that might as well be a lifetime. We’re in such different places, and with all of our own emotional baggage, I know what the end result of us will be.
I haven’t told him about the internship yet. That I’m going to be in New York for half the summer. Part of me knows that’s wrong, that I shouldn’t be withholding that information because of my needy heart. But the other part of me is holding out, to see if he brings up staying together on his own, simply because he can’t live without me.
For once in my life, I want someone to choose me without me having to mention that I’m standing right in front of them.
“It’s Frank Sinatra hour.” He grins, looking back at me, one hand holding the big headphone to his ear.
Austin hits a bunch of buttons, adjusts some levels, and then pulls them off. We sit there as Frank croons on about a woman getting under his skin, and he gets up to come over to me.
He offers me one of those big hands, and I take it. Gently, Austin pulls me up and into his chest, and we sway as I press my cheek and ear to his chest. His heartbeat hammers in time to the music, and I want so badly to stay in this moment forever.
The enchanting track changes. Obviously, he already lined up the next song.
“What’s this song?” I ask as the melody twinkles into the sound waves and through my bones.
“‘With Every Breath I Take,’” he answers, his eye contact never wavering.
It’s a romantic but heartbreaking ballad as I listen to the lyrics. About a man remembering a woman and the time they fell in love, but they’re clearly not together anymore.
Slowly, Austin lowers his head and covers my lips with his. The kiss starts cautiously, every breath we take a gasp. It switches into something frantic but quiet. We’re alone in here, and at the station, but this is still reckless and exciting in a forbidden way.
He lifts me up to sit on an empty part of the counter that houses all the switchboards, and my hands find their way under his shirt. Hands on skin, mouths bruising each other to the point of suffocation. We’re trying, in this moment, to get out every last ounce of desire we feel for one another.
Austin taps my hip, a request to lift, and I do. He slides my leggings down my legs in one fluid motion, and I’m left in my Talcott sweatshirt and nothing else. He pushes his sweatpants past his hips and grabs a condom, sheathing himself before parting my legs and driving to the hilt.
I whimper, muffling myself in his shoulder, as all of our nerve endings connect. Austin’s fingers find my chin, pulling it up to make me look at him. In his eyes, I see everything we haven’t been saying to each other. We’re connected in the most intimate way possible, yet my heart is so heavy that it might just sink me.
He begins to move, and we’re clinging to each other while our gazes collide. This is love, what we’re making. But it’s also the end. I think we can both feel it.
I hold on to him, praying that I can grasp him tight enough so that he doesn’t slip away and disappear after graduation. The sounds of Frank Sinatra drift in and out as he worships my body, and I feel the wetness on my cheeks.