all

of just nineteen.

Unprepared

and overwhelmed

to suddenly have the entire life of a seven-year-old

In my realm.

Death. The only thing inevitable in life.

Will steps out of the spotlight and off of the stage before he even sees his scores. I nd myself hoping he gets lost on his way back to our booth so that I have time to absorb this. I have no idea how to react. I had no idea that this was his life. That Caulder was his whole life. I’m amazed by his performance but devastated by his words. I wipe tears away with the back of my hand. I don’t know if I’m crying for the loss of Will’s parents, the responsibilities brought by that loss, or the simple fact that he spoke the truth. He spoke about a side of death and loss that never seems to be considered until it’s too late. A side that I’m unfortunately all too familiar with. The Will I watched walk up to the stage is not the same Will I’m watching walk toward me. I’m con icted, I’m confused, and most of all I’m taken aback. He was beautiful.

He notices me wiping tears from my eyes. “I warned you,” he says, sliding back into the booth. He reaches for his drink and takes a sip, stirring the ice cubes with his straw. I have no idea what to say to him. He put it all out there, right in front of me.

My emotions take control over my actions. I reach forward and take his hand in mine and he sets his drink back down on the table. He turns toward me and gives me a half smile, like he’s waiting for me to say something. When I don’t say anything, he pulls his hand up to my face and wipes away a tear, then traces the side of my cheek with the back of his hand. I don’t understand the connection I feel with him. It all seems so fast. I put my hand on top of his and pull it to my mouth, then gently kiss the inside of his palm as we hold each other’s stare. We suddenly become the only two people in the entire room; all the external noise fades into the distance.

He brings his other hand to my cheek and slowly leans forward. I close my eyes and feel his breath draw closer as he pulls me toward him. His lips touch my lips, but barely. He slowly kisses my bottom lip, then my top lip. His lips are cold, still wet from his drink. I lean in further to return his kiss, but he pulls away when my mouth responds. I open my eyes and he’s smiling at me, still holding my face in his hands.

“Patience,” he whispers. He closes his eyes and leans in, kissing me softly on the cheek. I close my eyes and inhale, trying to calm the overwhelming impulse I have to wrap my arms around him and kiss him back. I don’t know how he has so much self-control. He presses his forehead against mine and slides his hands down my arms. Our eyes lock when we open them. It’s during this moment that I nally understand why my mother accepted her fate at the age of eighteen.

“Wow,” I exhale.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Wow.”

We hold each other’s stare for a few more seconds until the audience starts to roar again. They are announcing the quali ers for round two when Will grabs my hand and whispers, “Let’s go.”

As I make my way out of the booth, my entire body feels like it’s about to give out on me. I’ve never experienced anything like what just happened. Ever.

We exit the booth and our hands remain locked as he navigates me through the ever-growing crowd and into the parking lot. I don’t realize how warm I am until the cold Michigan air touches my skin. It feels exhilarating. Or I feel exhilarated. I can’t tell which. All I know is that I wish the last two hours of my life could repeat for eternity.

“You don’t want to stay?” I ask him.

“Lake, you’ve been moving and unpacking for days. You need sleep.”

His mention of sleep induces an involuntary yawn from me. “Sleep does sound good,” I say.

He opens my door, but before I get in, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me to him in a tight embrace. Several minutes pass while we just stand there, holding on to the moment. I could get used to this, which is a completely foreign feeling. I’ve always been so guarded. This new side of me that Will brings out is a side of me I didn’t know I had.

We eventually break apart and get into the car. As we drive away from the parking lot, I lean my head against the window and watch the club minimize in the rearview mirror.

“Will?” I whisper, without breaking my gaze from the building disappearing behind us. “Thank you for this.”

He takes my hand into his, and I eventually fall asleep, smiling.

I wake up as he’s opening my door and we’re in my driveway. He reaches in and grabs my hand, helping me out of the car. I can’t remember the last time I fell asleep in a moving vehicle. Will was right: I am tired. I rub my eyes and yawn again as he walks me to the front door. He wraps his arms around my waist, and I raise mine around his shoulders. Our bodies are a perfect t. A chill runs down my body as his breath warms my neck. I can’t believe we met only three days ago; it seems like we’ve been doing this for years.

“Just think,” I say. “You’ll be gone three whole days. That’s the same length of time I’ve known you.”

He laughs and pulls me even closer. “This will be the longest three days of my life,” he says.

If I know my mother at all, then we’ve got an audience, so I’m relieved his nal kiss is nothing more than a quick peck on the cheek. He slowly walks backward, his ngers sliding out of mine, eventually letting go. My arm falls limp to my side as I watch him get into his car. He cranks the engine and rolls down his window. “Lake, I’ve got a pretty long drive home,” he says. “How about one for the road?”

I laugh, then walk to the car and lean through his window, expecting another peck. Instead, he slips his hand behind my neck and gently pulls me toward him, our lips opening when they meet. Neither of us holds back this time. I reach through the window and run my ngers through the back of his hair as we continue kissing. It takes all I have not to swing open the car door and crawl into his lap. The door between us feels more like a barricade.

We nally come to a stop. Our lips are still touching as we both hesitate to part.

“Damn,” he whispers against my lips. “It gets better every time.”

“I’ll see you in three days,” I say. “You be careful driving home tonight.” I give him one nal kiss and reluctantly pull away from the window.

He backs out of the driveway and again straight into his own. I’m tempted to run after him and kiss him again to prove his theory. Instead, I avoid temptation and turn to head inside.

“Lake!”

I turn around and he shuts his car door and jogs toward me. He smiles when he reaches me. “I forgot to tell you something,” he says, wrapping his arms around me again. “You look beautiful tonight.” He kisses me on top of my head, releases his hold, and turns back toward his house.

Maybe I was wrong earlier—about me liking the fact that he didn’t compliment me. I was de nitely wrong. When he gets to his front door, he turns around and smiles before he goes inside.

Just as I had imagined, my mother is sitting on the sofa with a book, attempting to appear uninterested when I walk through the front door. “Well, how’d it go? Is he a serial killer?” she says.

My smile is uncontrollable now. I walk to the sofa opposite her and throw myself on it like a rag doll and sigh. “You were right, Mom. I love Michigan.”