The Design(58)

Grayson and I clutched each other’s hands as our necks craned to keep careful watch of the plane’s ascent.

And then, just like that, it was gone, and the cemetery was silent once again.

Grayson loved the spot just as much as I did.

We watched three more planes take off before he took me by the hand and led me back to his car. He pulled me into the backseat without a word. We peeled off each other’s clothes without the aid of the flashlights. We fumbled in the darkness, but it was better without the light. Having to seek each other out from memory meant that there was hardly a patch of skin that went untouched.

He stretched out as best as he could on top of the smooth leather and then he pulled me down on top of him. Our mouths met as his fingers tangled in my hair. I gripped his arms and succumbed to my desire for him.

I loved Grayson in the backseat of that car.

I loved the way he touched me. I loved the way that time dripped when we were together.

You see, I knew that being with Grayson wasn’t permanent. I knew that in a few weeks I’d be gone, sitting on one of the planes we’d just watched taking off. I’d have nothing but the memories of him to cling onto, and for that, I loved him fiercely, wholeheartedly, and without abandon. Nothing makes you love someone like the shadow of an impending goodbye.





Chapter TwentyThree


Amount saved for Paris: $2103 (minus $5.32 I used to buy bubblewrap so that I could protect the Eiffel Tower paperweight en route to Paris).

Items I have: updated Passport and picture. Goodbye thirteen-year-old brace-face portrait.

Items I need: a Paris Metro map so I can start to learn my way around the arrondissements.

French phrases that I know: Pas de l'enfer. Je ne veux pas un colocataire…which translates to “Hell no. I don’t want a roommate.” It seemed like necessary knowledge, considering Hannah and I spoke the same language but still mixed like oil and water.




The next morning I woke up early to work on my designs for the competition before going in to work. I was nearing the final stages, but the entries were due by next Monday. I knew Brooklyn and Grayson would probably keep me occupied over the weekend, which meant I really only had three more days to get it done.

Thankfully, Hannah wasn’t awake when I padded into our kitchen to make my first cup of coffee for the day. I stood in the quiet space, waiting for our Keurig to boot up and reminiscing about the night before. It’d definitely been one of the best birthdays I’d ever had, all thanks to Grayson.

Once I had my coffee in hand, I locked myself back in my room and surveyed my progress. My park designs were scattered across my desk in piles that I swore I could differentiate, though your guess was probably as good as mine. I cleared a small space so I could set down my coffee and then booted up my laptop and sat down. The crystal Eiffel Tower paperweight caught my attention on the windowsill. It was beautiful in the early morning light, and seeing it there reminded me again of the night before. I smiled and took a sip of coffee and then paused, alarm bells ringing. Grayson’s post-it note was missing. I’d stuck it next to the paperweight and had meant to put the address in my phone since my desk was currently a war zone, but I hadn’t had time to do it the day before.

Immediately I stood and started to rifle through the papers on my desk, organizing them as I went. I glanced beneath every single one, even making sure the post-it note hadn’t stuck to the back of any of them. I checked behind my desk and on the carpet beneath it. Nothing. It was nowhere to be found.

In the end, I had a very neat desk and no post-it note. I checked my purse and the rest of my room, but I didn’t find it anywhere. I cursed myself for not putting it in my phone earlier. Losing something within forty-eight hours was a new low, even for me.

I sighed and made a mental note to ask Grayson for the address again. Was that embarrassing to have to ask him for it twice? Oh well, I didn’t have a choice.

I spent the rest of the morning working on my designs and trying to come up with a casual way to ask Grayson about his address again.

It seemed silly to want his address so badly. Eventually he’d take me to his apartment and then I’d know it by default. But what if he didn’t take me and I left for Paris without his address? How could I send him postcards or letters?

In a way, it felt like one more way that I was slowly losing Grayson at the same time I was really starting to find him.

…



Saturday morning, my whore of a big sister had to leave for Montana (before we even got the chance to have a going away dinner for her) and I was crying at the airport like a sad sack. I knew she had to work on her album with Jason. I knew that bad weather in Montana meant that they needed to fly out earlier, and yet I couldn’t pull it together.

“I will be back in a few weeks! What’s wrong? Are you sad that you don’t get to see Cowboy Derek?”

I sniffed and wiped the snot dripping from my nose like a faucet.

“No! God! I’m not crying because of Cowboy Derek!”

Cowboy Derek was a ranch hand who worked for Jason up in Montana.

“So then you’re this sad that I’m leaving for a few weeks?” she asked, clearly confused.

The waterworks kicked up another notch.

I could handle being away from Brooklyn for a few weeks, but she didn’t realize that it was actually the last time we’d see each other in who knows how long. I’d be in Paris by the time she arrived back in LA.