How could someone in your arms, in a position where she was supposed to be the closest to you, feel the furthest that she'd ever been? Abby fell asleep in my arms after we packed her stuff and I couldn't bring myself to leave her when she was sleeping cozily. I couldn't understand her—her reasonings didn't make sense at all. She was giving up on a battle that we hadn't fought, and that was only cowardice.

Abby was leaving.

I was supposed to be mulling over this fact, making future plans to visit her at her campus, or thinking about how we would work this out. However, she just ripped off every hope within me with her statement. She was fucking determined to stay friends. Either she was too optimistic, or she didn't get her facts straight. There was no friendship involved in this. I loved her, and as far as she let me know, she loved me. We were past that stage of friendship and there was no way we could go back to there.

Every minute passing with her in my arms, I roved my mind over our memories of the trip. Her deep blue eyes looking at me, her lips curling into a delicate smile, and her arms wrapping around my neck. The sweet kisses that tasted of her, a taste that couldn't be described sufficiently, and I thought over how far we'd gotten since the beginning. Her scent, smelling of roses and orchids, her breath against my skin. I stole a glance at her then, remembering every detail of her face, of her body, and gingerly touching my lips against her soft skin.

I didn't understand how she managed, how calm and collected she was to be walking away from me when I struggled to leave this bed right now, though I should have walked away much sooner. Yes, I should have left the bed before dawn. Retreating my arm slowly from beneath her body, I get off her bed and walked up to the window. I cast one glance behind to look at her for the last time before I pulled my leg off, and then the other to descend.

The walk home was short, and as soon as I threw myself on my bed, I fell asleep. A fire was spreading within my body as if it was waiting for me to step away from her, and the rage didn't stop—only increased by the time I was awake again.

I checked the time and saw she must have been leaving for the airport for around ten minutes. Meanwhile, a noise from outside caught my attention, and I walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside to see Abby and her father loading her stuff into the truck. Her father was telling her something as she listened, and my stomach did a flip at her sight. She was leaving—I should have gone downstairs and joined them at the airport. It was how we planned it all along.

I was going to be there when she was flying to New York.

However, I wasn't the one who broke the promise first: she said she would never leave me. My chin shivered out of my control, and I crossed my arms together to collect myself. As if Abby sensed me, she turned over and looked up, meeting my gaze. Her shock was transparent in her eyes as her mouth was slightly agape. Then, a question appeared there, unspoken but just there, and she knew I could read it.

I can't do this, George. Her voice rang in my ears and fueled my anger. If she couldn't do it, she shouldn't have expected me to be there for her. She didn't even give us a chance. I suddenly pulled the curtain back and walked back to my bed. I wasn't going. I didn't want to see her.

I took my face between my hands. I wish I could forget her. I wish I hadn't told her that I loved her. I wish this summer didn't happen. I wish we had never met. I wish. I exhaled. No, I didn't mean that. I don't want to forget you, Abby, I just want you back. Don't leave me. Please come back to me.

My phone vibrated. The message read: George, please come to say goodbye.

I could no longer hold my tears back. It was the ugliest sobs I'd ever cried, the most down I'd ever been, the most hurt I'd ever felt. I didn't know how long I cried but it only intensified when I heard the engine sound outside and soon, they were set off. She was gone—she was fucking gone.

When the door suddenly swung open, announced, I tried my best to swallow my cries and wipe my tears off, but I was sure my red eyes gave me away when my mother stepped in. "George," she said, worried, "what's wrong?" I didn't reply. "Abby just left...I thought you would go with her. Did you break up?"

Once I opened my mouth, another cry escaped. "She left me, Mom. She said she couldn't do it." My mother was by my side then, slinging an arm around me and pulling me close. I buried my face against her shoulder and cried. Her hand caressed my hair and she whispered soothing things like it's okay, baby. It wasn't okay. It was nowhere okay.

"It's not the end of the world, George," she suddenly said, when my tears dried, and my throat sore. "Look, before your father, I dated a guy for two years. We were together all the time." I pulled back to look at her. "We were inseparable, and I thought we were the endgame, you know. But then, he left for his master's, and though we were keen on maintaining our relationship, we drifted apart in the end. Well, another friend of mine maintained a long-distance relationship successfully before they married. Both possibilities can happen."

"She didn't even try, Mom," I protested. "She didn't give us a chance."

"Try to understand her. She lost her mother at a very young age. She probably doesn't like to say goodbye."

"I don't," I murmured. "I don't understand."

"Give it time," she said. "Time heals everything." Was that so? "And go to the airport, George. You may regret it later, no matter if you get back together or not."

I considered her words for a while. A strong part of my mind was telling me against it. Why would I go to her when she left me? I didn't deserve this. However, my heart was beating wildly against my chest, as if urging me to hear it out. I was scared because I knew what it was going to tell me. And I was afraid because I would follow it.

"George," my mother said, cupping my chin to level my eyes with her. "I know you'll regret this, son. You love her. She's Abby, your best friend. I know how much it hurts but think about this: she's stepping into a new adventure and she needs some support. Give her that."

"I would, if she let me," I said dryly.

Patting me on the back, she replied, "As you wish." Then, she walked out and shut the door. The silence made me blue again, but this time I was keen on not crying. I was angry at her, and contrary to what my mother stated, I didn't understand her. I didn't forgive her.

However, I was going to the airport and face her—for a completely different reason.

My decision set, I put on a jacket and walked down the stairs. I took my father's car's keys and walked out of the door swiftly. I didn't have much time left but I hoped I could catch up with her before she got on board. I started the car and accelerated toward the airport.

Twenty minutes later, I parked at the airport and ran toward the gate. There were only twenty minutes left until her flight and I could be too late. Suddenly everything was forgotten, as I was running with all I had, and I just wanted to see her for the last time. I didn't know where to go but tracked the screens to find her gate.

I almost bumped into people passing by, and almost walked over some baggage, but managed to reach the said gate in the shortest way possible. My breath caught in my throat when I spotted her hugging her father and gripping her baggage. She offered a thin grin at Susan. Then, she turned back.

No. "Abby," I yelled, running toward her. As she heard me, she spun around, and her eyes went wide at the sight of me. "Abby," I said, as I reached her, breathless.

"George," she breathed back, dropping her baggage, and putting her hands on my chest. "You came."

I wanted to be so mad at her. I wanted to be strong. But I wasn't. "I came," I whispered back, cupping her cheeks. Her chuckle rang in my ears as she cradled my face back, putting a kiss on my lips. We had an audience, that I was aware of, but I couldn't care less at the moment. When her lips touched mine, I shivered.

"When you looked down at me at the window, I thought you wouldn't," she said, pulling back a little. The hopefulness in her voice was so touching that it reminded me of why I should have been angry with her. If she waited for me, why did she push me away? "George," she said next, her voice losing its tranquility. "I'll miss you so much."

I let out a breathy chuckle. "You're contradicting yourself, Abby."

She looked at me like she was suffering. "I love you, George. I told you last night. I love you so much that I can't lose you."

"Then, don't. Be my girlfriend. I promise you that I'll do everything to keep us together."

Abby glanced at me then, and I thought, for a moment or so, she wanted to believe in me. I wish I could read her mind that I could see what was clouding her thoughts, what was making her step back every time I looked at her with love, passion, and longing. I wondered what made her backtrack when everything made sense with us together. She sighed, her breath mingling with mine, and her fingers slid down on my face as if she grew weaker. "One day, you will thank me for this."

Never. I suddenly pulled back, looking into her eyes. "One day you'll regret this."

"Maybe," she said. "But this is a risk I'm willing to take—rather than losing you. I'll keep you as a friend rather than lose you as a lover, okay? I can't gamble on our relationship, George."

I cast a last glance at her as she gripped her luggage. "I'll never forgive you," I said. She hoisted her backpack on her back. Her eyes leveled mine, but I couldn't read her thoughts. "I'll never forgive you for stealing this opportunity from us."

The announcement stated that it was time to go. I put my hands into my pockets, standing still with nothing to say as if I'd spilled my beans and I was waiting for a reaction now. "You made me live a dream, Shaw," she said, wrapping her arms around me. When I didn't do it back, she awkwardly pulled back and shot me a soft smile. "Thank you."

Then, she spun on her heels, tugging her luggage with her, and I let her walk toward the gate. Where I should have been calling after her, I was standing still and watching her disappear into the crowd.

Take it or leave it. The former didn't work so I went for the latter this time.

***

It takes two to tango.

There is an epilogue (three chapters long). I finished this book on the last day of 2018 — but I really miss it. Miss the characters. Miss the planning.

I'm thankful because it taught me to plan every inch, from the stops they will halt to the places they will go and they will do. And now, I feel like I've driven across the country and traveled beside them. Hope you had the same feelings, too! ❤️

Sev xx