Again, But Better(59)

I blink at her and take it off. I pull on my carry-on. I came here to do things. Not regret things.

“This one’s four pounds overweight.” She points to an area behind me. “You can go over there and try to rearrange things. There’s a max of fifty pounds per bag.” I follow her gaze to where two other young girls have their bags wide open on the floor, repacking shit in the middle of the check-in area.

I came to take risks. I came to be outgoing. I don’t want it to end like this.

“What?” I hear the check-in lady ask.

Did I say that out loud?

I pivot and drag my bags away. I don’t stop near the repacking girls; I keep walking and head outside again, gaining speed as a surge of adrenaline courses through me. I wait for another cab. I give the driver the address of the Karlston, and we plow back into London.



* * *



My heart beats outside my body, running in circles around the taxi. I’m doing it. I’m gonna do what I said I was going to do: I’m going to tell him. I’m at the end of the rom com, not the drama. It’s not going to end with me getting on the plane.

I practice what I’m going to say: Pies, I really, really like you. I don’t know how you feel, but I really, really like you and I had to tell you. I had to let you know. Simple, straightforward, easy to remember. I can go off cuff from there.

I repeat it over and over in my brain the entire way.

When we pull up to the Karlston, I leap out onto the sidewalk. Pies, I really, really like you. I don’t know how you feel, but I really, really like you and I had to tell you. I had to let you know.

“I’ll be right back!” I tell the driver. “Can you please keep the meter running?”

I slam the door shut, beaming now as I hurtle up the steps. I’m doing it! I’ve committed, and god it feels great!

I have my ID out and ready to flash at security. I sprint past them and down the stairs, holding onto the railing so I don’t trip and break my neck. I shuffle over to the kitchen and peek in through the windows to see if he’s in there.

It’s empty, so I run down the hall to his door, heave in a great breath, and knock. Pies, I really, really like you. I don’t know how you feel, but I really, really like you and I had to tell you. I had to let you know.

“Pies?”

I laugh. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

“Pies?” I knock again. “Pies!” I yell louder now. No answer.

Maybe he’s listening to music. I put pressure on the doorknob and find that it’s unlocked. I push the door open. The room is empty save for the black comforters we were told to leave behind.

“No,” I breathe quietly. “No,” I say again, wandering into the room, looking for any remnant of Pilot that might suggest he’s still here, just not here.

“No.” I run out into the hall.

“Pilot?” I call. I go into the kitchen to make sure he’s not hidden from view on the far end of the couch. I run down the hall to the other flat where his guy friends live. “Pies?”

No one’s here.

I can call him! He’s still in London! I fumble for the phone in my cross-body for half a second before the idea crashes down around me. I don’t have a phone. Dad broke my phone, and I never got a new one because I hardly used it anyway. I don’t know Pilot’s British number by heart. His US phone doesn’t work here. I never thought to ask where he was staying after this.

Maybe he’s on his computer wherever he is, and he can give me a location? I sprint back up to the taxi, dive into my book bag, and whip out Sawyer. I run back in and down to the basement to connect to the Wi-Fi. I open Facebook chat.

Shane

Hey, Pies?




I wait thirty seconds.

Shane

Pies, you out there?




Thirty more seconds.

A minute. Three minutes. The messages remain unviewed.

My face crumples. I close my laptop because my meter’s running. My plane’s waiting. I drag myself back up the stairs and into the taxi. Ask the driver to go back to the airport.

I miss my flight.



* * *



When I finally land back in the United States, Leo and Alfie are waiting for me at JFK. My expression falls as I step up to where they’re standing, fiddling on their smartphones. I was expecting Mom.

“What are you guys doing here? Where’s my mom?”

“Your parents sent us,” Alfie answers, still texting.

I look to Leo. “Why?” My voice cracks.

He shakes his head like he’s at a loss. “You tell us.”

I start walking toward the baggage carousel, tears welling up in my eyes.

Leo trots after me. “Shane, come on. You never tell us anything anymore. You’ve never been in trouble your entire life. What the hell did you do to piss them off so much?” He steps in front of me, blocking my way.

I close my eyes and heave a breath. I’m so tired. “Leo—” I huff.

“Leo lost his baseball scholarship and dropped out of school,” Alfie snickers from out of view.

Leo winces. Whatever I was about to say dies on my tongue.

I glance at Alfie over Leo’s shoulder, but he’s back to texting on his phone. I study Leo’s eyes. They’re blank, guarded.