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My best friends taught me a new kind of quiet, the peaceful stillness of knowing one another so well you don’t need to fill the space. And a new kind of loud: noise as a celebration, as the overflow of joy at being alive, here, now.
He uses my name a lot. Every time, it’s like his voice plucks a too-tight string in a piano deep in my stomach.
“Psst!” I shove him. He rocks right back into the same position. I’ve always been a terrible sleeper, whereas Wyn—who never stops moving while awake—sleeps so hard that I used to check his pulse in the night. “Get up!” I shove his shoulder harder. His eyes flutter open, slitting against the half-light of morning. “What?” he grumbles, one eye closing to better focus on me. “What’s wrong?” “What’s wrong?” I hiss back. “How did this happen? How could I let this happen? How could you let this happen?” “Hold up.” He pushes himself up, scrubs his hair back. “Tell me what happened.” “What happened?”
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😂😂😂😂😂😂
“That was true?” I say. “I did a body shot?” “No, you didn’t do a body shot,” he says. My shoulders relax. “You did four body shots.”
“I don’t need water,” I say. “I need a time machine.”
I laughed out loud 😂😂😂😂😂😂
He’s become my best friend the way the others did: bit by bit, sand passing through an hourglass so slowly, it’s impossible to pin down the moment it happens. When suddenly more of my heart belongs to him than doesn’t, and I know I’ll never get a single grain back. He’s a golden boy. I’m a girl whose life has been drawn in shades of gray. I try not to love him. I really try.
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️🥹🥹
“First of all,”
“simple isn’t bad. Second of all, simple isn’t stupid, and you’re not stupid, and I don’t know why you’re always trying to convince yourself you are, but it really is bullshit, Wyn. And lastly, you’re the opposite of slow-release boring. I like you so much more than when we first met. Partly because you actually answer my questions now, instead of turning everything around to flirt.”
“I like your body and your face and your hair and your skin, and I like how you’re always warmer than me, and how you never sit still except when you’re really trying to concentrate on what someone’s saying, and I like how you always fix things without being asked. You’re the only one of us who will actually take out the trash before it’s spilling over. And every time you’re doing anything—going to the store or doing laundry or making yourself breakfast—you’ll always ask if anyone else needs anything, and I like how I know when you’re about to text me from the other side of the room because
...more
“I think I love you, Harriet,” he says. Love, I think. That’s new. And I’ll never be happy without it again. Without any forethought, any worry, I tell him the truth. “I know I love you, Wyn.”
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
“No,” he says quietly. “In every universe, it’s you for me. Even if it’s not me for you.”
29
That was heartbreaking! 😭😍
“I would’ve done anything to bring you back to me for one last minute,” he says. “But I couldn’t, so I followed you. And if you hadn’t come out here, I would’ve bought a ticket. And if I got inside and you were already boarded, I would’ve gotten on the plane. I would’ve waited until we landed in Boston to talk to you. And if somehow I missed you in deboarding, I would’ve found your next gate to talk. And as I was driving here, watching this stupid fucking plan form for how I would get to you and say goodbye in person, I realized why we can do this.”
“Because there’s nowhere I wouldn’t go for you. And if you get out to Montana and realize there’s somewhere else you need to be, there’s nothing I’m not willing to do to make it work. I’d rather have you five days a year than anyone else all the time. I’d rather argue with you than not talk, and whether we’re together or we’re not, I’m yours, so let’s be together, Harriet. As much as we can. As long as we can. As soon as we can. Everything else, we’ll figure out later.”
“I’m saying,” he murmurs softly, “it’s not home unless you’re there.”
