30. Petra

Chapter thirty

Petra

When I wake, Reed is watching me, his eyes shimmering gold in the morning sun. “Do you like dim sum?” he asks, brushing my hair away from my face. “My flight isn’t until after noon.”

“Oh!” In the haze of last night, I forgot he was leaving. “How are we going to get your car here?”

“Tina’s taking care of it. Dim sum? I researched the best one.”

“You did?” It’s so Reed that I smile, brushing our noses together, which he turns into a deliciously warm, molasses-slow series of kisses. We don’t get out of bed for a long while.

It’s mid-morning before we park at a strip mall with a mom and pop dumpling counter. It’s very Los Angeles: the brown, waxed to-go boxes, the vinegar bar, the smell of pan-fried pork dumplings. It pulls on a heartstring that unravels, right there in line, until I bite my trembling lip to hold myself together. I’m a mess, on the verge of tears because of food , by the time we order. Reed simply holds me until they subside.

We claim a nearby booth, sharing four different types of dumplings, and I wish this moment would last forever. Reed’s face is light and happy, no more shadows, and my stupid heart tumbles over itself. “Reed? This week was amazing. I didn’t realize how much I’d sunk into my shell. I hope you know how special you are. If I hurt later, this was worth it.”

His sweet kiss spreads warmth down to my toes. “Each moment with you is better than the last, Petronia Diamante.”

We walk the mall, prolonging our time together, but eventually Reed leads me back to the car, climbs into the driver’s seat, and parks in a lot at PDX. The sounds of traffic and the planes overhead are a heavy reminder that this is the end. My heart sinks, though I yell at it for being unreasonable.

I help Reed gather his bags from my trunk and push my unruly hair back, searching for a way to keep this from being awkward. “Well, have good flight, and a good life, and a—”

“Petra,” he says.

I avoid his eyes. “—good afterlife, I guess.”

“Petra.”

“Not that,” I fumble. “I mean, I’m sure it will be a good one. You’re a good person. A great person. I didn’t mean to make this about death. Please be careful flying.”

“Pet, stop.” Reed reaches for my anxiously twisting hands. “You don’t have to find all the right words. It sucks. Me leaving, you living in Swift River. It’s okay for us to say that sucks.”

I blow out a frustrated breath, trying to hold my ridiculous heart in one piece. “Please, we knew this was nothing.”

“Don’t lie,” Reed says, brushing my hair back. “You put me back in the driver’s seat of my own life. You reminded me that I’m more than a voice, fantasy, or object. You gave back something that was stolen from me. Don’t tell me that was nothing.”

I nod, humbled, and lift our hands to press a kiss to his knuckles before letting go. “Okay.”

Reed stares at me expectantly. “This is the part where you tell me I changed your life.”

“Reed!” I push him away, but he pulls me in for a hug, laughing.

“It’s alright, my prickly, tarty girl. I already know.”

It’s easier to say it against his neck. “I told you things I’ve never told anyone. I let you see the darkest parts of me. No, it wasn’t nothing.”

“I loved every minute of it. Speaking of—” Reed clears his throat and pulls away to tug a flash drive from his pocket. “This is for you.”

The recording we made together. I don’t know if I’ll ever listen to it. Maybe years from now, when I can’t remember it as clearly. Right now it would be too painful. I pocket the drive, clenching my fist to avoid rubbing at the ache in my chest. I knew we were temporary fun, but it smarts.

Words pile up behind my lips. I’ll treasure our time together. I’ll miss you. I don’t know that anyone will not-fuck me the way you did. All of them sound desperate. I force a smile. “I’m not sorry I made you work for every bit of it.”

Reed laughs— God, he has the best laugh —and cups my face in his hands to kiss me again. “I’m not either. But this isn’t a final goodbye. I’ll call you. And I’ll ask around and see who might be able to get your book to an agent.”

“If you want.” There’s a numbness creeping over me. Before he walked into the grocery store I was fairly sure I was dead inside, but I was just sleeping. I’m ready to go back to sleep until the pain heals over.

Reed frowns at me, cupping my cheek. “Petra. Don’t shut down. We’re going to stay friends. I’m going to call you, you’re going to answer, we’re going to have hot as fuck phone sex—”

“Reed!” I hiss, but he grins.

“Don’t deny it. Our chemistry? Done deal.” Reed wraps his arms around me until we’re nose to nose. “Promise me you’ll do more than exist. That you’ll answer when I call. Promise you’re not going to leave me on read.”

“I do that to everyone. I’m horrible at texting back.” He’s unimpressed, but I don’t budge. He’ll move on soon enough, and my promises won’t matter. I swallow my pride. “Kiss me goodbye?”

His eyes soften as he traces his thumb over my lips. He kisses me slowly, thoroughly, and I commit each touch and sound to memory. I bury my fingers in his soft hair, trace the shape of his ear, cradle his stubbly jaw in my hand—a tactile impression of him. “Goodbye, Petra.”

“Goodbye, Reed,” I whisper and let go.

He heads down the terminal walkway, but I can’t watch him go. I dart to the car and bury my face in my hands. I work through it, blinking back hot tears and sucking in deep breaths, and consider how to move forward.

If I go back home, the memory of his lips will fade, replaced with my parents bickering. Reed is the most passionate experience I’ve ever had, and—fleeting or not—I want to preserve it. I want to remember, ten years from now, how it felt to be wanted and adored by him.

A quick glance in my rearview mirror confirms that he’s gone.

Good.

I call in sick and drive back to the coast. I blush as I park along the rocky shoreline, remembering what we did yesterday. The things he said, the way he touched me. Petra Diamante, practically topless on the coastal cliffs, saying things I never dreamed I’d find the courage to admit. He unlocked something in me that I hope to affirm on my own. That sex doesn’t have to be scary. That I don’t have to be demure or perfect.

Reed gave me the template of what right is supposed to feel like. I owe him everything for that. It’s easy to imagine him on the sand: laughing, teasing me, his soft voice in my ear. Losing Reed’s companionship hurts more than losing the incredible almost-sex between us.

As I watch the gulls, I imagine it could be more.

That my life could be as beautiful and full of wonder as this moment. That life would be vibrant all the time, rather than only in my memories. Reed would call, and I would visit. We would spend sunny afternoons together with the warmth on our faces, and hold each other in the middle of the night.

The magic of the sunset, as it spreads out from gold, to pink, to fiery red over the ocean, makes it seem within reach.

Then I exhale, and let the dream flutter away on the wind.