I hug him, tucking my head against his chest. “Do I really have to go to school today?”
“I’m not getting you in trouble again.”
I look pointedly at my closed door. And then back at him.
“Okay.” He grins. “Maybe I’m willing to throw you under the bus for that one.”
When Kurt hears that Josh is in my bedroom, he insists on sneaking back to the dorm with me for lunch. I’m proud of him for breaking another rule, but I’m worried about what will happen. There’s not the slightest hesitation when they see each other. Josh greets Kurt with the same genuine and enthusiastic embrace that he gave St. Clair.
“I hope those are tears of happiness,” Kurt says, when he looks at me.
“They are,” I say.
“I’m glad you’re back together,” Kurt tells Josh. “And I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too,” Josh says.
“I like Isla better when you’re dating. I didn’t think that would be true – I thought I liked her more without you – but that wasn’t the case at all.”
Josh laughs. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“She’s been miserable company,” Kurt says.
Josh laughs harder, delighted for this news, as I whack Kurt’s arm. But I’m grinning, too.
“Will you be staying here?” Kurt asks Josh.
Josh and I immediately tense. I’m sure he’s reliving the same memory – Kurt, unable to lie. Barcelona.
“I am,” Josh says. “I don’t want to get Isla in trouble, but I’m good at keeping quiet.”
“I won’t say anything to anyone,” Kurt says quickly. “And if Nate corners me, I’ll tell him you’ve been staying at a hostel. Not here.”
I can tell that Josh is as surprised as I am. “I appreciate that,” he says. “But I won’t let you lie for me. If we’re caught, we’ll deal with the consequences ourselves.”
Kurt ponders this for a moment. “You’ve changed.”
Josh smiles. “So have you.”
“Oh,” Kurt says. “You guys should tell Hattie this time, though.”
“Definitely,” Josh and I say together.
We stay together happily and quietly. Josh doesn’t let me skip any more school lunches or break any additional rules. Only the big, obvious, boy-in-my-room one.
It’s wonderful sharing a space with him.
While I do my homework, he draws. We each have our own space inside of this shared space. I imagine that our apartment next fall might feel like this. The thought fills me with more joy than I thought possible. I borrow Hattie’s television, and from the opening ceremonies onward, the games are never turned off. The spirit of the events – of being in the host country – is thrilling. But, even better, the sound of the television is incredibly handy when it comes to muffling untoward noises.
As always, the women’s figure skating isn’t until the end of the games. The short programme is first, and we’re excited when Cricket’s twin, Calliope, bursts into first place with an acrobatically powerful performance. In the stands, the camera shows Cricket and Lola exploding from their seats with joy, but the announcers focus on Calliope’s curse instead. Predictions are made that she’ll be too scared to pull off her second event.
“Why can’t they let her enjoy this moment?” I say.
“Don’t worry,” Josh says. “Assholes always eat their own words.”
Two nights later, it happens. It’s the free skate. Her gaze is sharp, and her black costume is shimmering and transcendent. Her music is from the 1968 film Romeo and Juliet, and she becomes Juliet – in love, in death – before the entire world. She wins the gold medal by a landslide. Cricket and Lola clutch each other and cry. I even see Anna and St. Clair jumping up and down behind them. But Calliope is all triumphant grin.
“Told you,” Josh says, as if he can predict the future. But maybe he can. He’s always known what he’s wanted, and he’s getting everything that he asked for. I haven’t always known. But now I have what I want, too. The rest, the unknown…it’ll come.
And I’m looking forward to it.
The medal programme ends, we turn off the television, and – as we wrap ourselves around each other – we’re faced with the truth that our time together is coming to an end, too. Josh holds me tighter, but it’s not enough to stop the clock. The next evening, the Olympic flame is extinguished. The games are over. And he’s gone.
Chapter thirty-four
It’s midnight. It’s sweltering.
It’s the top of June.
I cross Amsterdam Avenue underneath a clear sky. I’m nervous, but it’s a good nervous. An anticipatory nervous. In the past few months, the last traces of shyness and doubt have been removed from my step. I’ve found the Right Way.
And I’m walking straight towards it.
The golden light of Kismet winks at me. There. In the window. Everything about this moment is exactly how I pictured it. His shoulders are rounded down, and his head is cocked to the right. His nose is nearly touching the tip of his pen. He arrived earlier this evening on a flight from DC.
I stop directly in front of the window. The light changes on the surface of his paper, and he looks up. We smile softly.
I touch my hand to the glass. Hi, I mouth.
Josh touches the other side. Hi.
He nods towards the door for me to come in. I open it, and I’m greeted by the warm fragrance of strong coffee. He stands. I walk straight into his embrace. We kiss, and we kiss, and we kiss. He tastes like Josh. He smells like Josh. He feels like Josh.
“You’re so real,” I say.
He touches my cheek. “I was thinking the same thing. I love the real you. I’ve missed the real you.” His finger is splotched with fresh ink, and I feel the tiniest wet drop against my skin. He tries to wipe it away, but I stop him.
“Please,” I say. “Leave it. I’ve missed the real you, too.”
Josh squeezes both of my hands with both of his.
“What are you working on?” I ask.
“The last page.” He gestures towards the table, where a pencilled sketch is being turned into inked brushstrokes. It’s a drawing of us, in this café, in this moment.
I smile up at him. “It’s beautiful. But what comes next?”
“The best part.” And he pulls me back into his arms. “The happily ever after