Page 29 of Off Limits

After a moment, I roll toward him so we’re face-to-face. Sadness creeps in like an unwelcome guest.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi.” He reaches over and brushes my hair up and out of my face.

“When do you need to head out?”

“Soon.”

My chest squeezes painfully as we gaze at each other. His eyes are mournful, no doubt reflecting my own. He rests his hand on my cheek, and I close my eyes.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says, his voice rough.

“I already do.” My throat is tight.

“No regrets, right?” His gaze is soft but intent.

“No.” I place my hand on his face and use my thumb to trace his cheek and jawline, studying his brown eyes, his soft lips, his strong nose. “Not sorry.”

We rouse ourselves from bed and dress and too soon find ourselves before my front door. My heart aches, begging me not to open it. We hug each other tight, neither wanting to break the embrace.

“Look me up when you graduate?” I ask, still pressed to his chest. I can hear his heartbeat.

I know we will probably see each other before that. Next summer, perhaps. I can’t predict what that will be like, and right now, all I can focus on is a time when there will be a small chancefor us to be together like this again. When maybe it won’t be wrong or impossible.

“If I can wait that long.” He kisses me, deep and passionate but with a sorrowful edge, like grief.

We clasp hands briefly as I open the door and he steps out.

“Goodbye, Julian.”

“Goodbye, Chelsea.”

He gives me one last, long look then turns and walks away.

I close the door.

The heartbreak stings with a poignant sharpness, but I know the scars will make me stronger. Today, a new chapter begins for each of us.