I’m shivering and Josh has his arms around me to keep me warm. I lean back into his chest and close my eyes for a moment, just enjoying his embrace, the feel of his hard body behind me. It makes me feel safe and protected. I could stay like this forever.
But the cab crawls down the road and stops beside us, and Josh is letting go. I shove my hands in my jacket pockets as he leans down and kisses me, soft and sweet.
“Thank you for the best Halloween ever,” he says.
“Thank you for the sex,” I tell him and he laughs.
“You’re welcome. Anytime.”
I reluctantly walk to the cab but he’s suddenly ahead of me and opening the door. He’s got good manners, too.
I slide on in and he hesitates at the door. “Have a safe flight.”
I nearly laugh. Why do people always say that? It’s not like I have any control over the plane. “I will try my best.”
He grins and nods then shuts the door. I wave my fingers at him and he lifts his hand in goodbye. I try and commit his beautiful face to memory but I know I won’t forget him anyway.
I tell the driver where I’m going. To the hostel.
Then I’m going home.
Home.
Home.
Home comes faster than I think. I go through the rest of the day in a daze, too afraid to nap in case I miss my flight, which turns out to be uneventful. I even manage to doze off for a few hours despite being cramped between the window and a fidgeting child. The copious glasses of cab sauv that Air New Zealand serves like candy certainly helped.
When I arrive in Auckland, it’s like I’ve gone back in time instead of going forward. I can’t explain it except that everything feels old. I feel like I don’t belong here in my own country.
But the feeling doesn’t last long. After I get my ratty backpack and duffel bag and go through customs, my old life comes crashing toward me. In the arrivals area I see him among a sea of people, the man I had wished I’d shared every sunset with. He’s holding a single red rose, his dark blond hair even shorter than before, his skin deeper than ever. He’s waiting for me.
All of a sudden I realize that the last four months did nothing to change me. I am still the same as I was before I left.
I had gone overseas in hopes of finding myself. In this moment, I know I hadn’t been looking for anything.
I had been running away.
Chapter Three
JOSH
On the scale of sex, there are four different ways to measure your fuck. There is sex. Good sex. Amazing sex. And mind-blowing sex. There is no bad sex because, I mean, it’s still sex. At least to me. I’m not picky. But what I did with Gemma, that fucktastically hot foreign minx, is in another category of its own.
That was pure, primal, crazy, sweaty, erotic, sensual, rabid animal, life-changing sex. That was the sex that happens once in your life, if you’re lucky. I cannot get it out of my head. I cannot get her out of my head. For the next few days after Halloween, Gemma and her come-hither eyes and thick hair and infectious laugh are all I can think about.
But I never even got her last name.
When Monday rolls around, however, I’m given something else to think about. I have a morning shift and I smell like Hollandaise sauce and drip coffee when I get home. There’s a stack of mail on the kitchen table. My mother, the workaholic Realtor, is out somewhere, probably showing some sad sap a house and trying to convince them that they can afford Vancouver’s outrageous housing prices.
I pop open the fridge and grab a can of Coke and start riffling through the pile of envelopes and catalogues. I start getting nervous for some reason and then I see it.
A large envelope from Emily Carr, the art school I had applied for. It was only for a few courses—3-D Computer Animation, Illustration, Comic Book Storyline, Design for Motion, Art Direction—but they would be enough to get my life heading in the right direction. I wanted to ease into it and then see if I could actually get my degree down the line.
I take in a deep breath and rip it open. On the first page it says I’ve been accepted. I had submitted my work late so it was always up in the air, but there it is. I start my courses on January fifteenth.
I close my eyes and smile. I am beyond relieved. The school doesn’t take just anyone and some of the courses are for second-year students, but somehow I made it in. I squeezed through the cracks.
Holy fuck, I’m actually going to be a student. Things are finally going to change, going to turn around. And yet, as I lean back against the fridge, staring at the paperwork, I’m left wondering: Will this be enough?
Before I can continue my thoughts, my cell rings. I pick it up. It’s Vera.
“Hey!” I say brightly into the phone. For once I have something to say to my sister. It seems her life is so interesting and exotic while mine never changes at all. But not today.
“Hey, bro,” she says. “You sound happy.”
“Fucking right,” I tell her. “Guess what?”
There’s a hesitant pause and then a squeal. “You got into Emily Carr?”
“Yup.” I can’t help but grin at her reaction: more squealing.
“Dude,” she says and I hear her take a sip of something, then swallow. “I am so proud of you. What did Mom say?”
“She doesn’t know yet. I just got the acceptance letter.”
“Good,” she says. “I like that you got to share with me first. Unless, of course, you’ve managed to snag a girlfriend in the last week.”