The days tick slowly by.
• • •
I’m sitting at the table, painting my nails a horrid shade of pink as the girls talk about Evan Freeman—how he and Lacey are a thing. I don’t react, pretending I don’t know either of them. The door of the center opens, a soft jingle from the bells attached at the top.
I’m concentrating on painting the nail of my ring finger, gazing at the purple heart there. I’m about to move on to the next nail when I realize that the room has gone quiet. Finally. They’ve finally come for me.
Exhausted, I glance up, sure it’s a handler to take me to The Program. But instead, the floor feels like it’s dropped out from underneath me. There are handlers in their stiff white coats, but they’re not alone. In between them, with a newly shaved head, is James. He’s wearing a short-sleeved polo shirt, and I can see, even from here, the white marks on his arm. The tattoos have been removed, Miller’s name stitched up.
James’s eyes scan the room, curious but not intense. Not the way he usually looks at things. They don’t even pause on me.
He’s back. My James is back. This is the only reason I didn’t die. This is the moment that kept me going.
James.
They walk him to a chair near the vending machines where a couple of guys sit, playing a game of cards. The handlers are letting James have his first bit of social interaction here at the Wellness Center where it can be monitored. He sits, not saying a word to the people at the table.
The handlers don’t look at me, seemingly unaware of my and James’s past. I wonder if that’s true, or if they’re trying not to draw his attention to me. Either way, I’m thankful that the dark-haired handler isn’t here.
I run my eyes over my boyfriend’s clothes. He looks smaller, as if he’s lost weight while he was gone. I don’t like that they took away his beautiful golden hair, but it’ll grow back.
I ache to touch him.
I watch his slow movements, my heart pounding, adrenaline racing through my veins. The girls around me start talking again, but it’s quieter, as if they can sense my change. I wait for the right moment to approach James. I won’t let anyone keep him from me. I have to get close and make him see me. He’ll be fine. He survived and now he’s back. It’s me and him forever.
Just then James pushes the cards away and stands, murmuring something to the handlers like he wants to leave. Panic explodes in my chest. He can’t leave yet.
I jump up, nearly knocking over my soda as James turns to leave. He’s flanked on either side by handlers as they head to the door, but I have to find a way to get his attention. If he can just see me, I know he’ll remember. He’ll ask if I’m checking him out. He’ll laugh. He’ll remember, I know it.
I think about what he would do if he were me. He’d be reckless. Sort of smartassish. I slide off my plastic purple ring and take aim. I wind up and shoot it, pegging James in the back of his shaved head. He stops, rubbing the spot. The handlers keep going, walking out the front door as the ring ricochets across the room, landing near the desk.
Slowly, James turns around, looking for whoever hit him. I’m in the middle of the room, not trying to hide the fact that it was me. His blue eyes glide over me, and I feel like he knows. I kiss my fingers and hold them up in a wave. Waiting.
James stares for a second and then rubs at his head again, as if it still stings. Then without smiling, without reacting at all, he turns and leaves the Wellness Center.
There’s a knot in my stomach, one that’s tightening. I hope that James will rush back in and acknowledge me, but when he doesn’t, it’s like my heart stops beating. Emptiness, deep and dark, swallows me whole. A tear slides down my cheek, but I don’t bother wiping it. Why should I? Why should I even care?
When I take in a breath, it’s a wheeze so filled with pain that the room goes silent. People turn to watch me as I stumble over to pick up my ring from the floor, so bright and hopeful on the linoleum tiles. The corner of the heart is chipped.
“Honey?” the woman behind the desk asks, the worry thick in her voice. I know I should pull myself together and answer. That I have to. But instead I walk out the door, wishing for the day to end.
• • •
The first time James kissed me we were at the river after my brother had bailed on us to go meet his girlfriend, Dana. James asked me to go with him anyway, and although I was nervous, I went. It’d been nearly three months since my feelings for him changed, since I’d noticed him.
I sat on a towel, skipping stones as James swam out to the small boat dock and did backflips into the water, the sun glistening off his skin. When he came back over to me, he was shivering. “Warm me up, Sloane,” he said playfully, and got down on my towel, his dripping body cold.
“You’re all wet.” I laughed, trying to push him off as he tackled me.
“Now you are too.” He used the bottom of my shirt to wipe his face, and I giggled, pulling it out of his hands. I was on my back and he hung above me, resting on an elbow, grinning down madly. “That’s probably the closest you’ll ever come to swimming,” he said and shook his wet hair out, spraying me with droplets of water.
I held up my hands defensively, but when he stopped, his smile started to fade. He was watching me, almost curiously. I furrowed my brow. “What?” I asked.
“Would you let me kiss you?”
Tingles raced over my body and I felt my cheeks warm. I didn’t know what to say . . . so I just nodded. James grinned, looking nervous. He leaned closer, stopping just when his lips touched mine. I was so scared of what would happen next. My first kiss.
“This is probably a big mistake,” he murmured, and slid his hand into my hair, cupping the back of my neck.
“I know.”
And then his lips pressed against mine, hot and soft. My arms wrapped around him and I pulled him down and he kissed me harder, his tongue touching mine. It was the most amazing feeling in the world, like an out-of-body experience. We kissed forever, or at least until the sun started to set.
When we finally stopped, James collapsed on his back, staring up at the sky. “Well, damn, Sloane.”
I laughed, touching my lips with my finger. They felt swollen, but alive. Tingly. “That was fun,” I managed to say.
James turned and looked over at me. “You know I’m never going to be able to not kiss you again, right?” he said. “For the rest of my life, every time I look at you, I’ll have to kiss you.”