Ash

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Three PM. Three PM sharp. It's time. I don't see him.

This is insane. This is absolutely insane. What on earth is Evans doing in Seattle? What does he want? I rub my palms together. I should've put on my winter gloves. I can nearly see my breaths in the air. The temperature today is freezing. It's dropped six degrees since yesterday. I hope he shows up soon.

There are few people about the park in this weather. None of them are him. Perhaps there was some mistake. But I haven't been to any other park in five months. He should please show up.

I fasten the coat around my neck when a draft blows my way. I feel pressure on my shoulder, a hand closed on it and I jump to my feet.

The dull rays of sun catch in his spiky hair. He's almost the same as he was when I last saw him February two years ago: taller than me by a few inches, broad between the shoulders with his athlete's build but there are differences about him. I can't place an exact disparity but his features seem less defined. His usually straw colored hair is washed, with only the faintest tinge of the color it once was, his irises look duller too, metallic in hue and bruised at the lower lids, like he hasn't slept enough in weeks. He's so pale he could almost blend in with the day like a wisp of vapor in the morning beams. It's like he's...faded somehow.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He gives a one sided smile. His voice, it's still the same. Resonant and always even.

"Evans." It's a whisper. I can barely project any louder.

"Jess." He smiles wider. A hundred flashes from the past assail me at once. All the times I heard that voice. All the times he gave me this smile. His laugh. The feeling of our hands entwined, us embraced, happy...

"You've changed." he says, placing his hands in his pockets. He's wearing denim pants and an ash T-shirt. Light clothing for such cold weather.

"So have you," I reply. A lot. So much about him. "You sent me the flowers?"

"You used to like white roses. You thought they were special." He removes his hand from one pocket and runs it through his hair in a nervous gesture.

"What are you doing here?" I forget how he got the roses and how he got into my room for now. I just need the answer to that one question.

"For you, of course. Why else would I be in Rain City?" His cool grey eyes settle on me, and there's a tint of humor in them and something else far more solemn.

"For me?" I repeat his words.

"For you. Only you." He pauses and never takes his eyes off me. I notice how unblinking they are, for the past several minutes they've bored ceaseless into me. "We have so much to catch up on," he says with an excitement barely restrained.

"For me?" I ask again.

"Yes." He blinks now as an act of confusion. He doesn't understand why I keep repeating his words.

"Why?"

"Why?" I have him in a maze, lost and searching. "To see you, to speak to you, to be with you." He shrugs as if it's that simple. The words would've been comical to my ears, but there's too much seriousness surrounding them.

"I thought you didn't need me anymore. Not since you had Linda." I say the words without remorse, staring right at him. Sadness dawns on his face.

"We're still crossing that bridge, aren't we?"

"We never even made that bridge to cross," I reply him. He stares at the cold dry bench I recently stood up from, still as a statue.

He sighs. "There's so much to explain." He gestures to the bench. I take a seat next to him and pull my coat tighter around myself.