Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
When we finally pull away, our breathing is ragged with swollen lips.
He places his palm on my cheek and he rubs the pad of his thumb against my face. I lean into him, staring into his chestnut-brown eyes. “I hope everything works out with your apartment.”
“Thanks, me too.”
Then he leans in and kisses my forehead, his lips lingering a second longer than usual. I suck in a deep breath and let it out, feeling the tears threatening to spill again.
“Bye, Mr. Grumpy.”
“See ya, Sunshine.” He gently smiles and watches until I walk toward the long line.
Once I’ve passed security, I try to stop my heart from racing. The tears welling in the corner of my eyes won’t fall, and it makes them burn. This fucking hurts more than I ever expected it would.
Once I’ve found my gate, I go to the bathroom and find a stall, then give myself permission to cry. I quietly sob in my hands, replaying all the memories we shared, knowing this is how it has to be. Still, I hate that it feels like I’ll never see him again.
“Are you okay?” I hear a woman ask from the other side.
“Yeah,” I tell her, sniffling. I grab some toilet paper and blow my nose, trying to compose myself as heartbreak washes over me. A fling shouldn’t feel like this, like I’m mourning a soul mate I was never meant to meet.
Once I’ve cried all the tears, I wait for my flight by the large windows. A few planes land as others move toward the main runway, but I’m numb as images of Finn’s final expression linger in my mind. I really hope Levi keeps an eye on him as promised.
What is Finn thinking right now? Is he feeling just as shitty as me?
Needing a distraction from my thoughts, I pull my phone from my pocket and text Tatum. She’s always been able to make me laugh or take my mind off things.
Oakley: Wanted to let you know I’m at the airport.
That’s all I can type. I can’t seem to pull words from my tangled web of emotions and explain the turmoil I’m experiencing.
Tatum: Great! How’d leaving the farm go?
Oakley: It was goodbye, how do you think it went?
It’s a rude response, but I don’t know what she expects me to say. Great?
It wasn’t. It was awful.
Immediately, my phone rings. It takes every bit of strength I have to answer because I don’t feel like talking.
“Are you okay?” my sister asks in the tone she uses when she’s handling me with care.
“Not really,” I admit. “I feel sick, and my heart hurts.”
“Lovesick?” she asks, and I don’t answer. “Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”
She knew that would make me speak up. “No, I’m just anxious and emotional. I’m going to miss Finn and his family. Plus, all the shit I need to take care of when I get home is weighing on me, and I already feel overwhelmed by it. It’s like my life is dangling by a thread, and it’s all tumbling down at once.”
“Talk me through it. Save yourself a call with a therapist,” she offers.
I chuckle, even if I want to sulk. “I don’t know what I want. My career is the most important thing in my life, but I also know Finn and I connected on a deep level that I’ve never experienced with anyone before. He made several comments about how our lives are in two different places and why it made sense that we were only together while I was there. He’s probably right about that, but it still doesn’t make it easy.”
“Did you talk to him about all of this?”
“No. It’d only make it harder to confess our feelings when we can’t be together. There are just too many obstacles keeping us apart. Neither of us seems to be a fan of long distance, and if neither of us will move away from our homes to be with the other, what’s the point?”
“Hmm. Well, we both know I’m not the best when it comes to relationships, so take my advice with a grain of salt. But I truly believe that if something is meant to be, it’ll find a way. Remove the outside bullshit and ask yourself if you’ll regret not being with him.”
“I don’t know. It was supposed to be a fling. But it felt like…more.”
“If it feels like a breakup, it wasn’t a fling.”
Her words stab me directly in the heart, and although she’s right, I’m too stubborn to admit it. How can it be a breakup when we both knew it would end when I left?
“Now you do sound like a therapist.”
“I’m just giving you a different perspective from the outside. Only you know how you truly feel and what you and Finn experienced. Regardless of your fling, you were hired for a great commission job, received some nice exposure online, built your portfolio, and met a bunch of new people. If you weren’t sad about leaving after having an amazing new experience, I’d be worried that you were a psycho with no emotions,” she tells me.