When I turn around, Ryan’s standing on the bottom stair with his stuff in his hand. He looks me over with a smirk, but I give him a sad smile in return. He walks over and drops his bag, then wraps his arms around me. He holds me tight, and I soak in his warmth and touch, not wanting to let go—not wanting this to be over. We stand for a while, and I’m certain he inhales the scent of my hair. I look up into his eyes, and I think I see pain in his expression and wonder if he feels the same as me. Running his fingers through my hair, he gently tugs on the ends and forces me to look up at him. “I’m
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