Chapter thirty-three
His voice is a whisper. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
I shut my door with precision silence. “I’m not on a final warning, and you’ve already been expelled. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I don’t know.” Josh is genuinely worried. “Maybe it could go on your permanent record and keep Dartmouth from accepting you?”
I smile. “My parents have already sent them the first tuition cheque.”
His knees weaken. And then rest of his body follows. I guide him onto the edge of my bed. “Do you mean?” he says. “Are you…?”
“I’m going to Dartmouth.”
Josh’s head drops into his hands. His whole body shakes. I sit beside him and press my head against his shoulder. Because I can again. He lifts his head, and his eyes shine with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m just…really overwhelmed right now.”
“Me, too.”
“I love you. I’ve always loved you, Isla.”
“I know.” I take his freezing hands and rub them between mine, trying to warm them. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I doubted myself, and that made me doubt you. But you weren’t the problem. You were never the problem. I should have trusted you, but I didn’t, because I couldn’t trust myself.”
“But you do now? Trust yourself?”
“I’m…getting there. I’m beginning to think that maybe it’s okay to be a blank canvas. Maybe it’s okay that my future is unknown. And maybe,” I say with another smile, “it’s okay to be inspired by the people who do know their future.”
“It goes both ways, you know.”
I link his icicle fingers through mine. “What does?”
“Artists are inspired by blank canvases.”
My smile grows wider.
“A blank canvas,” Josh continues, “has unlimited possibilities.”
I close my eyes, lean over, and kiss his cold lips. “Thank you.”
His shivering grows more severe.
I jump to my feet. “Oh, mon petit chou.” I pull out his arms from his snow-soaked coat. “I can’t believe you were waiting out there this whole time.”
His teeth chatter. “I-I would have waited all night.”
I hang up his coat inside my shower and return for his shirt. “This, too.” I tug it off, over his head. His skin is pale. Almost lavender-coloured. “And these.” I remove his shoes and socks, but his pants prove to be a challenge. They’re practically frozen to his legs. When they finally release, I topple over backwards.
He smiles through his shivers. “Not…quite…how I imagined…undressing with you again.”
I hang up his shirt and pants beside his coat to dry. Over my head, his socks and boxers go flying onto the shower floor. I laugh. He’s wrapped himself up inside my quilt, and only his face is peeking out.
“This doesn’t mean you can take advantage of me,” he says.
I laugh again.
Josh sweeps out a hand across the surface of my bed as a gesture for me to sit beside him, but the quilt catches on the manuscript. It knocks over on to the floor in a loud, crashing, never-ending nightmare. We freeze in horror. We listen for Nate. Nothing.
We smile at the miracle that has been granted to us.
I sit beside him. He scoots in towards me, but I pull back my head. “Don’t you want to know what I thought about your book first?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” He laughs nervously. “Do I?”
“You know it’s good. You know it’s really, really good.”
His face disappears as his entire body slumps into the mound of blankets. “You can’t even begin to imagine how relieved I am to hear you say that.”
“I’ve always known you’re brilliant. And you’ve just proved it to the world.”
A hand pokes out from underneath the quilt. I squeeze it. “For what it’s worth?” he says. “You’d make a great editor someday. Everything you yelled at me was true.”
I look away from him in shame. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“No. I am. I’m sorry about so many things. And I’m especially sorry for…using your ex-girlfriend to fuel my own stupid insecurities. I want you to know that I don’t love this” – I gesture towards his manuscript, scattered across my hardwood – “because there’s less of her in it. Or more of me. I want you to know that I love it because it has you in it – the good parts and the ugly parts. I love you. I love all of you.”
He grips my hand harder. “Thank you.”
“The praise is a long time coming.” I rub my thumb against his index finger. “And I have so much more of it to give.”
“Tomorrow. Right now, I only want you.”
But my heart grows heavy again. “You mean today. Did you find out when your train leaves?”
“Isla.” He looks surprised. Like I should already know this. “I never bought a ticket.”
My breath catches. “What?”
“I’m not going to the Olympics. I came here for you.”
“Does…does that mean you’re staying?”
He scoots in closer. “Two weeks. Through the end of the games, if you’ll have me. But then I’m stuck in DC until June.”
“Yes. Yes, I’ll have you!”
Josh smiles impishly. “Oh, you will?”
I shove him through the blankets. He topples over onto his side, laughing, pulling me down with him. He stares into my eyes. His smile fades. “I’ve missed you so much.”
I rub my arms against the chill. “I’ve missed you.”
“You’re cold.” He holds open the quilt. “Come here.”
I scoot forward into the blankets and sheets and pillows. Into him. The quilt falls against my back, enveloping me against his body. I press my cheek against his bare chest. He tightens his grip around me. We lie very, very still. The world is silent except for the steady beat of our hearts. After several minutes, I look up at him.
Josh stares back. His heartbeat quickens.
I slide upward until our noses are pressed against each other. I kiss the corner of his mouth, and I feel him smile as he kisses the corner of mine. His fingers trail down my back as he unzips my dress. He pulls it all the way down, past my ankles, and lets it drop onto the floor. He removes my bra and then my underwear.
He removes my compass necklace last.
Our kisses are soft. Teasing. Restrained. Our skin is clammy, and then warm, and then hot. Our kisses grow longer. Our breathing gets faster. I fumble for a condom. He presses against me, and it feels so good, so intense that I cry out. He meets my gaze to make sure that everything is all right, everything is more than all right, and my hips arch against him in response. His eyes close in rapture, and he’s guiding my body, and we’re finding our rhythm, and we’re together again, at last.
We can’t say the words enough.
I love you.
They’re a chant through the night as we move together slowly. Then quickly. Slowly. Then quickly. We don’t fall asleep until the break of dawn. Josh’s body curls around mine. Our hands clasp together over my heart. We’re still in this position when my alarm rattles us awake an hour later. I roll over and turn it off, groaning with deep annoyance, and then roll back into him. I resettle against his chest. I sigh happily.
He moves my tentacle arms away from his body. “Mm, no you don’t,” he mumbles.
I give a tiny whimper.
“School,” he says.
“But you’re here. That’s not fair.”
He hugs me, despite himself. “I have to pick up my suitcase. It’s still in Meredith’s room at the hostel. And I wanna say goodbye to everyone before they leave.”
“Can’t I do that with you?”
Josh nuzzles his nose against my cheek. “I’ll be here when you return.”
“I fixed my door. You’ll need a key.”
“I’ll take good care of it.”
“What if I won’t give it to you?”
“Then I’ll break the door again.”
“This dormitory makes me feel so safe.”
He smiles and pushes me from the bed. “Gooooooooo.”
I force him to get ready with me. The building is loud and active now, so we can move around without tiptoeing. We shower and brush our teeth and dry our hair, and everything seems twice the miracle that it did in Barcelona. Because this time we know it can’t be taken away from us. This will be our future.
His clothes are still wet, so I dry his pants with my hair dryer and give him back the T-shirt that he gave me over Thanksgiving. It’s tucked inside one of my pillows. When he sees it, he looks sad and happy and amazed. “I thought you probably threw this away. I still sleep with the scarf you gave me.”
“I want that back, you know.”
“The scarf?”
I smile. “That shirt.”
Josh returns my smile as he pulls the shirt over his head. “I’ll give it back with extra me-scent.”
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.