Take Me Home | ✔

Chapter Fifty-One

“You deserve it,” I smiled.

“No.”

“Yes.”

His grip around me tightened.

 “Do well in Denmark, okay?” I told him. My voice started becoming thick and muggy, like I was speaking through fog and molasses.

Elliot sighed in content, bringing me into his chest like he has so many times before. The process was the same; his arms unfolding to let me in, folding in to keep me there, resting his chin on my head to brag about his height over mine, with his fingers brushing on the ends of my hair. But this was different because it’d be our last in a long time.

Four minutes.

“Hey. When you’re riding elephants in Thailand or building a school for penguins in Antarctica, don’t forget the little people over here in little old America, alright? Don’t forget me.” Elliot joked.

I almost scoffed. “I don’t think I could ever forget you if I tried to. And even if I tried, you’d still be the kid who stole my first kiss.”

“Hey, if we’re holding grudges, I’m pretty sure there’s still scars on my nose from when you bashed it into my skull.”

“Alright, alright, truce,” I laughed, pulling away from him. Our smiles faded when we locked eyes with each other. More and more people began passing us and entering into my gate, their eyes grazing over us, some sympathetically and others in indifference.

Our hunger to get away and to travel accidentally brought us together and was purposefully splitting us apart.

Two minutes now.

“I should go, I can’t miss my flight,” I said to him, but my feet were firmly planted on the ground.

“Yeah,” Elliot nodded in agreement.

I imagined him after I left him here in the airport, how lonely he would be when driving the long distance back to the ranch house, how he would look so small when I passed through that security gate without my permanent travel person beside my side.

Instantly, it was like everything was bursting from a dam I tried to build. I tried to restrain all my feelings in hopes that I wouldn’t get any more attached than I already was, but the mission failed. Like a wave crashing against the shore, I crashed against him in a final hug. My muscles ached physically with how tight I clutched him to me, and I felt euphoric with just how much he smelled of fresh, clean cotton clothes, of home, of Elliot James. The intimacy of pain was a real thing that made me realize that missing someone while they were yours was stronger than missing them when they weren't. 

His lips were pressing down on mine, kissing me softly before kissing me with finality. It wasn't a slow kiss, and it wasn't a fast one, either. I kissed him like there was a meteor heading to Earth in two seconds. He kissed me like he would die in one second. 

Instantly, a saying I heard somewhere popped up in my mind as we continued to kiss. Whoever said that airports see more sincere kisses than wedding halls, was one hundred percent correct. I missed him even if I hadn't lifted a foot off of Texas. 

“I love you,” the words tumbled out of my mouth before I could have a chance to think it through, but then I realized I didn’t have to.

He was caught off-guard and stunned, but he tugged one of the corners of his cheeks upwards. “I love you.”

“Wow, Elliot, big words.”

“Not if you mean them.”

“Since when did you get so mushy?” I punched his shoulder softly, slapping away a tear that paved a damp path against my cheek.