Loves Me Not

EIGHTEEN

BEFORE
CATALAINA KITTRIDGE

During the year to myself, Will and I didn't speak much. That wasn't a big surprise to me, considering that we were growing distant again in the months before I left. He was spending all of his time with the two things that mattered most to him: school, and Juliette.

They spent nearly every waking minute together. Our weekly phone sessions became scarce as the months progressed. We tried to keep in touch. We tried to get together every once in a while to remain vital in each other's lives. But it was getting harder and harder to even speak with him. He was just so busy.

When I left for Europe at the end of September, I wasn't sure how our friendship was going to play out from that point forward. I sent him the odd postcard here and there, one from Munich, one from Prague. I wrote him a letter in Verona, sent him pictures from the Eifel tower. No matter where I went, the distances I traveled, no matter how far we were from each other, he was the one thing that was always on my mind. That was a problem, I soon learned. And it took months of being by myself to recognize that I needed to stop spending so much of my time thinking about someone who probably barely thought about me.

I was a changed person when I returned six months later. And then I spent the next six months after that continuing to learn and grow. I turned twenty-three that June. I enrolled in a weekly yoga class. I started a journal. I changed my diet, my perspective on politics, my overall outlook on life. I sat in my bedroom one night, thinking about every bad thing that could have happened to me when I was abroad. Plane crashes, car accidents, kidnappings, murders. Envisioning my own death wasn't a new thing for me – I'd been doing it for my entire life. But this time, I was thinking of the people closest to me. And so, at five o'clock in the morning, I drafted letters to everyone in my life. I wanted them to know everything I felt if something ever happened to me. And I don't think there's anything wrong with that. I was being prepared.

The last thing I did was draft out a will of sorts, what to do with my things if I were to die. The only person I could think of to leave everything to was the person who meant the most to me.

We hadn't seen each other in over a year. This was the longest time we had ever been apart from each other. I admit that it was much harder in the beginning. The distance, not seeing him – it was all too much for me. But the more time I spent away from him, the easier it became.

Before I knew it, November had arrived, and Will reached out, asking if we could get together.

I said yes.

I had gotten my own place in Bridgeport, a cute little one-bedroom apartment in the south end. I wanted to be as close to the water as possible. I tried to incorporate morning walks into my everyday routine to get fresh air and simply be outside. When Will and I discussed where we'd meet, he said he wanted to come over to check out my new place.

He arrived on a Friday evening. The weather was cool and the leaves were falling off the trees. He came inside and hung up his coat. I showed him around and we explored the place together.

"It's cute," he said, observing the living room. "Quaint."
"It's small, I know," I rolled my eyes.
"Not in a bad way. I like it. It's all you need. You're very minimalistic now a days," he said. I'm glad he noticed.
"You want anything to drink?" I walked over and opened the fridge. "Water, beer, vodka..."
"I'll take a beer if you got some."
Luckily for him, I did.
I cracked one open and brought it to him, then opened one for myself as well. He took a seat on the couch and I joined him.
"Thanks," he said once I handed it to him. We both took a sip.
"So how's med school?" I inquired.
"Difficult. But still enjoyable nonetheless. I feel like I'm learning so much. And every day, I'm one step closer to the finish line. One step closer to reaching my end goal."
I smiled. "That makes me happy. I'm so proud of you."
"Thanks, Kit-Cat." He took another sip of his beer. "So how was Europe? Tell me all about it."
So I did. I told him about the long nights spent on planes and trains. I told him about staying on the coast of Italy, how turquoise the water was. I told him about Paris and Prague, London, and Barcelona. I showed him photos. I told him about the people, the culture, the languages.
"It sounds like you had an amazing time," he remarked as he flipped through my photo album.
"I did. It was amazing."
He looked up at me and smiled. "I'm proud of you too, I hope you know that."
"Thank you."
"We've both accomplished so much, come so far in our lives."
"I know. It's crazy to think that just a few years ago we were young naïve teenagers who didn't have a clue about the world. And now here we are."
"Here we are," he echoed, and we clinked our bottles together.
"How's Juliette?" I asked, breaking the perfect illusion that this could be our reality. Don't think that I forgot about her. All those times I spent thinking about Will, I also thought about Juliette.
"She's good. We're good."
"You're happy?"
"I am."
"You've been dating for what... a year and a half now?"
"Yeah, about that. In three months it will be two years."
I nodded my head but didn't say anything more.

We spent the rest of night talking and drinking. I don't think Will planned on having as much as he did, considering he wasn't staying the night. He had drove to my place and had every intention of driving home once the night ended. However, once the tequila was brought out, any and all plans of him leaving were out the window.

We hung out just like old times. We spent hours catching up with each other, talking about our lives, our world views, what we thought about certain things. We had debates. We argued. We laughed. We drank more.

A song came on that the both of us remembered from a few years back. We were at a party in New York, Will, Holden, and me. There was this song that came on and everyone in the room instantly forgot what they were doing and let the music fill their bodies. When that same song came on that night in my apartment, Will and I exchanged a glance. We both stopped what we were doing, put our drinks down, and started dancing.

That moment was mesmerizing; an out of body experience. I remember jumping up and down, dancing, letting my body go somewhere else. I remember feeling complete and euphoric as I moved, the sounds and the rhythms taking me away. I remember looking over at Will, who was dancing right beside me, and feeling as though there was no one else in the world I'd rather be spending this moment with.

That was how it happened. That was how our bodies congregated and found each other, just as they did once before. My hands were on his shoulders, his hands were on my face. He ran his fingers through my hair, brought his forehead to mine. I stopped moving. So did he. And then he looked at me – really looked at me – and in that moment, everything changed. Because I realized that no one else would ever understand me like Will Sterling. I would never have a history or a bond with anyone like I did with Will. And I'll never know what he was thinking in that moment, but I'd like to believe that he was thinking the same thing.

Maybe that's why he kissed me. Maybe that's why I kissed him back.

We stumbled backwards, fast and hasty, as though we couldn't get to each other fast enough. Perhaps all of that time and distance apart made us realize how badly we wanted each other – how badly we needed each other.

He kissed my mouth, I held onto him tighter. He kissed my neck and I tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head. I ran my fingers down the length of his arms, felt his shoulders, his biceps, his wrists, his hands. How he held me at my waist, like I was a possession to him. Like I belonged to him. I kissed him harder. I pushed him backwards onto the couch and straddled him. The rest of the world seemed to disappear then. Once again, it was just the two of us. Nothing else mattered. It was enchanting.