|CHAPTER TWENTY THREE|

As graduation drew closer for some of us, final exams and research papers drew closer for the underclassmen. While some of us were celebrating, the underclassmen were introducing themselves to the city library for the first time that year. And, while that wouldn't necessarily be a problem for most people, it turned into the very thing that began putting space between Bash and I. Suddenly, he had people to assist with finding material suitable for a bibliography, and I started only seeing him after closing hours, or not at all.

In the beginning our lives slowly faded together, and now, just as slowly, they were being pulled apart. And, I guess that's the pattern of it all-if we allow it to happen, that is. Because, I had been allowing it to happen.

Truthfully, I was taking advantage of it all.

I think Bash saw it, too. He recognized the signs, started to smile in a way that told me he knew, kissed me extra long before I would leave, and tried to sway my decision with every gaze into my eyes and every breathy laugh into my ear.

When my graduation cap and gown arrived in the school office for me to pick up, I started to organize all of the gray things in my life back to black and white-for the sake of my sanity-for the sake of trying to be able to cope. Because, we all go back to the things that are familiar to us when we falter, after all.

There was something about holding that gown up to my shoulders in the mirror when I got home-something that made my breath catch. And, just like that, I knew it was time. I had to stop pretending, now.

But, I dreaded it. Every time Bash would run his fingers through my hair or say a silly word that was too embellished for the conversation or kiss me under the lamppost outside my house...I dreaded what had to come. I knew I wouldn't be able to do what was best for both of us without breaking something. Because, unlike bones, hearts don't heal so quick. It throbs for what feels like ages, and the regret makes the whole world seem blurry for a while.

And, yet, to save the hopeless romantic and push the closet romantic to fall in love with herself, for once, the whole messy ordeal had to be done.

"Today?" Quinn had asked as we biked down our street after school, feet idle on the pedals as we slowed before her house. She winced as the chickens began to squawk at us, even at this distance.

Her lovely hair was all thrown up in a knot, and her lipgloss shimmered in the light, but she frowned at me in a way that made the pretty disappear.

"Every time I look at the gown, I feel like I can't breathe. It's taunting me."

She snorted and shook her head. "Melodramatic, much? Just put it back in the box. Take advantage of your time with Bash. He's a diamond in the rough, if you ask me."

We stopped in her driveway and she crossed her arms when she looked at me. I looked down at my chipping toenail polish.

"The sooner this is over with, the sooner I can stop feeling bad about it-because I constantly feel awful," I told her, grimacing.

"Maybe that's your gut telling you it's the wrong move," she suggested as she swung her leg over and stood beside her bike. "Think about it."

"I have," I groaned. "Nobody gets it. This isn't a selfish move, it's for both of us. I care about him, that's why I'm doing this. He doesn't know he's hurting himself. He's blinded that way. He's like Henry."

"Great, then he'll never get over you." She smiled in a forced way that wasn't convincing.

My stomach flipped. "Don't say that."

She shrugged and began walking her bike up the drive. "I'll be here," she called over her shoulder. "If you need a good cry afterward."

I let out a shaky breath and pushed a hand through my frizzy, dark hair, feeling my fingers get caught in the tangles Bash's fingers always seemed to avoid. The scowl appeared before I could stop it. My insides tightened, and a queasy, seasick feeling washed over me at the thought of what I was turning my bike around to go do.

Several large breaths later, I was wiping a tear off my flushed cheek and scolding myself for getting so upset. Life, I thought, liked to dangle things in front of me-liked to let my fingers brush against those wonderful things for just a moment before yanking it out of reach.

I thought the space I had been putting between Bash and I would make these next moments easier.

Oh, what a fool I had been.

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The key was in the hanging plant and nobody was home. Bash would be at the library for an hour or so, yet, and I knew Greg was visiting family presently-which he made sure everyone knew in case he didn't return.

"I'm the least successful cousin," he said around a breath of smoke. "I'm certain I'll be torn to shreds. And, if that is the case, remember me with love in your hearts and please, smoke a cigarette in my memory."

I shook my head at the thought as I leaned backwards to close the door with my back. It is the last memory I would have of him-the last time his bad mood would seep into all corners of the room like the smoke he puffed on.

Since he insisted we smoke in his memory, and I would surely never see him again, I helped myself to the package he left on the book shelf.

The window opened with ease, and the element-faded slab of wood lifted off the Cigarette Graveyard with one hand. I lit the cigarette and sat down in the window, releasing smoke in a slow breath before looking back into Bash and Greg's apartment. I would never be a guest in it, again. And, that was a sad thought.

Sticky notes and loose books and half-drunk bottles of beer...I tried to record every last inch of it as perfectly as I could to memory. It was the physical haven I had come to when I needed it. But, it was time to let go of my life preserver.

Long after the cigarette, I stayed sitting in the window looking out at the mismatched houses of Bash's neighborhood: crumbling brick, boarded up windows, cheap lawn decorations. Not the clean, manicured grass of my neighborhood. Not the jolly singing of show tunes, or the squabble of chickens, or the bikini clad teenage girls swaying down the street to the waterpark.

It was quieter here, rougher, but somehow friendlier. Anyone was welcome.

Finally, I went to Bash's room where his mattress would forever remain on the floor and books would be everywhere but on his desk and sticky note reminders would clutter the back of his bedroom door. I returned the journals he let me borrow. I ran my fingers over the ones I hadn't gotten to read.

Out of curiosity, I pulled the latest one off the stack and flipped it to its most recent entry.

May 26th, 2015

There are but a few grains of sand left in this hourglass. How can I convince her to stay? How do I buy myself more time? She doesn't realize the power she has, doesn't understand what she's capable of. There is so much left of her I haven't gotten to experience. She says I have seen her soul, but there is more. She is forever an enigma. I am forever intrigued. I would forever remain hers if she let me.

But, she is elusive. She doesn't quite know herself, yet.

Is it fair of me? Am I suffocating the parts of her that need wide open fields of fresh air?

She is young, yet. I knew this. I wanted to show her the possibilities. But, can someone like me remain constant in a life as green as hers?

She thinks not. She is wiser than she appears.

I am all romantic notions and visions of life ideally.

Grow together or apart? I'm afraid the answer will break my heart. But, I asked for that didn't I?

I want to feel everything...right?

Signed,

Bash Daley

I swallowed hard and slammed the notebook shut, closing my eyes as my temples throbbed. And, just as I backed out of the room, Bash was walking through the front door. I jumped like I'd been committing a heinous crime in his absence, sure he would be able to see the guilt in my eyes.

He stopped on the welcome mat and slipped out of his shoes, staring at me with a cocked eyebrow.

"Jovie?"

I cleared my throat, but my voice still squeaked when I spoke. "Bash, hi."

I tried to smile, but the heaviness that settled into the muscles of my body settled into my smile, too.

He took a few steps forward and pressed a kiss to my lips, one that meant hello but felt like goodbye.

"What're you doing here?"

He walked past me into the living room where he set a stack of book onto the coffee table. I noticed he was avoiding eye contact, or staying near me in general.

Choking. It felt like I was choking, like the air was being squeezed from my lungs the longer my eyes stayed focused on him.

"I love you."

He glanced up. His body stilled, half bent over the coffee table, and his eyes settled on mine, but they were heavy. I think he had borrowed some of Quinn's intuition that day.

"What?"

He stood up straight, but every inch of him moved as though he was weighted down by tar, or stuck in a pool of cold molasses. It felt like being put in slow motion. He knew. The signs were there, the words I could never say were being said, and the smell of cigarettes hung in the air like something final.

"I love you," I said again, this time looking into the wide blue eyes that always felt like home.

I swear I saw color drain from his face. Those words weren't supposed to make a person feel sick.

"Jovie-"

"I'm leaving for New York shortly after graduation." I said quickly, cutting him off, trying to get the whole speech I prepared out as fast as I could. I couldn't stand there like that, lightheaded and on the brink of tears-feeling as though I was killing the very person I needed to stay alive.

"I know that," he said carefully, his voice void of the excitement that usually coated every word in a shiny varnish.

We stared at each other for a long moment until finally I told him, "I don't want to just end this and leave in a messy rush."

Bash let out a strangled half-chuckle, half-sigh and leaned back, pressing his palms against his closed eyes, trying to wake himself up from a nightmare. "Jovie," he said, sounding desperate. "I told you we don't have to end this. I will come with you."

"I don't want you to, Bash. I refuse to just uproot your life. You hate living in big cities, and I can't have you being miserable for me."

"I don't care about the city. I care about you."

"No, Bash," I nearly yelled, taking a few steps forward as he rounded the couch to do the same. "I need to be alone. I want a clean slate. That's why I'm leaving-that's why I've always wanted to leave-why I needed to leave. Bash, you belong here. I release you."

He threw his hands up. "Release me?" He shook his head and firmly gripped my shoulders. "I'm not a prisoner! What don't you understand? Why can't you bear the idea of somebody caring enough about you that they would do anything for you?"

"That's what I worry about," I nearly cried, pushing his hands off of me. "Please. You knew this was coming. Don't make this harder for me."

"It's hard because you know it isn't the answer." I swiped a stray tear away and began walking away from him, but he grabbed my arm and spun me around. His eyes were glassy, and his voice lacking luster. "Jovie, I believe this was meant to be."

I shook my head, sniffling. "Then why am I leaving, Bash?"

As I tried to tell him our time had run out, his hands were all over me, gripping my shoulders, cupping my face, pulling me closer, trying to find a way to keep me forever.

I pulled out of his grip again and took a step backward. "I just came to tell you that I love you, and that I need you to stop hanging on."

"Don't. Jovie. Don't. Please don't go." He begged.

I shook my head and took another step back, but he had reached a point of panic. And, in one final attempt to keep me, one final clinging effort, he swooped down and pressed a frantic kiss to my lips, all messy and tear-soaked and angry. He gripped onto me like I was fading into nothingness right before him.

As he pulled away, his hands pushed my hair back, and he searched my eyes, looking for something he would never find.

"I love you," I whispered. "That's why I have to go."

He released me suddenly, and the anger had finally taken over where understanding had always been. "You think that makes it better because it doesn't, Jovie. You're just twisting the blade," he fumed.

"Bash-"

He turned away from me, recoiling and yelling-hurt for all of the right reasons. Even I couldn't argue when the slow chocolate-melting voice boiled and hissed, "Leave then. Leave, Jovie!"

And I stumbled out of the house coughing, crying, melting, and jelly-legged.

He felt everything. I felt everything, too.

It felt like being set on fire, like being drowned, like falling off a cliff, like walking out of a daydream. It felt like rage, and sorrow, and a drug-induced sleepiness that makes you feel like night will last forever.

It felt like heartbreak. And, heartbreak was miserable.

And, that night while I lie in bed sobbing, I found Meredith tiptoeing in and lying down beside me to hold me as I cried.

"You're going to be okay," she murmured into my tear-soaked hair.

"I love him," I wailed, curling against her.

"I know," she sighed, hugging me tighter. "I know."