Gone, Gone, Gone(54)

If I could take all the machine guns in the world and bend them into hearts, I totally totally would, even if I got grazed by bullets in the process, which knowing me I probably would, because I’m a little bit of a klutz, but Lio thinks I’m cute.





LIO

THAT NIGHT I DECIDE, ENOUGH DAWDLING.

I get out of bed at two in the morning, which is difficult, because, despite the rubbery mattress, it is warm and lovely under the covers. And out of bed, it’s freezing. It has become mid-autumn completely without my knowledge. Most of October is gone. It feels like we should get to try this month over. Not the things that happened, just the season. We didn’t notice it getting cold.

I put on a pair of socks, consider my feet, and put on another pair of socks. I don’t want to get sick.

Todd is already at work, and Craig’s parents are sleeping. Across town, my family is asleep, except my mother in New York, who is drinking or sleeping, and my grown-up sisters, who are probably just drinking. I think when we sleep, the world belongs to everyone still awake. Which means a whole shitload of the world belongs to Craig.

I whisper his name from the top of the stairs.

He rolls over in his bed and looks at me. He isn’t emailing. He’s lying there.

“Come upstairs,” I tell him.

He moans a little. “God, my parents . . .”

“Like this is about your parents.” I know what that room is to him. “Come on. I’m sick of looking at all your stupid trophies and drawings all by myself. Come tell me what they mean.”

He wraps his arms around himself. “The animals . . .”

“Can come up or stay down here,” I say.

He watches me. I lean my cheek against the banister.

“Pleeeeease, Craig?”

He gets out of bed, shivering, and says, “Come here.”

“Why?”

“Cold. Too hard to find a sweatshirt.” He grabs me by the legs and lifts me onto his back. I like this. I kick my feet all the way upstairs. I hope I’m keeping him warm.

It’s Tuesday night, and we’ve been together for three months or three days or something, and it’s been the best time of my life.

And let’s be honest, I have no idea how many three days or three months I have left.

“I really like you,” I tell him.

He drops me on the rubbery mattress and kisses me.

“You know that kid who got shot?” I say. “Outside Michelle’s school?”

He’s breathing hard between kisses. “Uh-huh?”

“He’s totally going to be fine. Saw it on the news.”

We are in the bed, squeaking on the mattress. We are all arms and legs and mouths. I’ve never kissed like this before. I feel like I’m falling into him.

“I like your hair,” he says.

“Mmm.”

His hand underneath my T-shirt. I shiver. “However far you want to go, Craig.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s fine with me. I’m ready.”

He kisses me hard, for a long time. His teeth are against my lips.

He whispers, “Li? Can we just sleep tonight?”

I can’t say I’m not a little disappointed. But it’s all right. There will be other nights. There will be. I have to believe that. And again and again and again.

I wrap my arms as far around him as they will go. “We can sleep forever. I promise I won’t go crazy.”

“Don’t get cancer.”

“I won’t. Don’t, um, get a dog.”

He chuckles, and we kiss. And he falls asleep with his lips against mine.

He sleeps. My f*cking boyfriend is asleep, and maybe tomorrow he’ll wake up without that headache or that bleary look in his eyes or the ringing in his ears from staying up for thirty hours. He sleeps so close to me, like he’s doing it just to prove to me that he’ll be okay.

It is so much more beautiful than any polar bears in Alaska. Because I am here and he is mine and forever is as long as we want it to be.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Like a lot of mornings, we wake up and there is news. They’ve arrested two men at a rest stop. The sniper rifles were in their trunk of their car. A man found them. They were asleep.





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


THIS BOOK COULD NOT HAVE EXISTED WITHOUT the support of my amazing editor, Anica Rissi, or my agent, Suzie Townsend. I cannot emphasize enough how much of a role these two had in shaping the final draft of this book. Suzie always knows where I need to add words, and Anica always knows where I need to cross them out. Without the two of them, I would never know what my books were about. They’re invaluable. Thank you as well to everyone else at Simon Pulse and FinePrint Literary. It’s an honor to be working with you.

My best friend, Alex Stek, read Gone, Gone, Gone a page at a time while I was writing the first draft. He pretended it was perfect.

My family, on the other hand, deserves a million thank-yous for putting up with the fact that I don’t let them read my books until they’re on the shelves. My mother, my father, and my sister are three of the best people I have ever met, and they prove it every day by somehow tolerating me. Thank you as well to Seth, Emma, Galen, and my cousins, who are all family as well, some more obviously than others.