Читать книгу Love is Hell - Melissa Marr - Страница 14

I SPEND THE NEXT SEVERAL days sleeping whenever I can—drinking lots of warm milk, switching to decaf, and reducing my intake of sugar, carbs, and anything else that might keep me awake. Raina tells me she can see the difference, but attributes it to her stellar makeup tips and not to the fact that I’ve been going to bed early each night, taking catnaps during the day.

And seeing Travis.

In my dreams, Travis and I talk about everything—about his favorite ’80s flicks (Back to the Future and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off), how I’d like to start swimming again, and how he misses the taste of fudge ripple ice cream. We talk about music we love and places we’ve visited. And places he never got to see.

We even talk about Emma.

While my parents won’t even allow me to say her name, Travis listens as I talk about the day of Emma’s accident, the six months that followed while she was in a coma, and the day that she died—when her ghost appeared to me.

“I think about her all the time,” I tell him on our last night together. “I wonder what she’d be like now, if we’d be close and if I’d teach her stuff—like how to make butterscotch candy—my culinary specialty—or how to trap and dribble in field hockey. I just hope she’s happy .nbsp;.nbsp; wherever she is.”

“She is,” he says, pulling me close. “There’s no need to feel bad about anything.”

“Are you sure?”

He breaks our embrace to look at me. He cups my face and stares into my eyes. “More than sure.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” I say, fighting the urge to well up.

“There’s still right now,” he says. “So, don’t wake up.”

“I’ll do my best.”

We end up taking a walk by the lake, where he and his dad used to go fishing. Travis picks a spot close to the water and lays out a thick blanket. We sit down facing one another, holding hands, and entangling legs.

“I wish you could stay,” I whisper.

Travis threads his fingers through mine, sending warm and spicy tingles straight down my back. “I’ll always be with you,” he says.

“But not like now. I won’t be able to see you.”

“It wouldn’t be fair of me to stay. You have your own life to live.”

“Well, maybe I want to live it with you.”

He smiles and brushes his forehead against mine. And then he kisses me and it tastes like hot apple cider inside my mouth. “I’ll always be with you,” he repeats, murmuring into my ear. “Just don’t ever say goodbye.”

I rest my head against his chest as tears drip down the sides of my face.

We continue to hold and kiss each other, until the sun rises up and paints a strip of gold across the water .nbsp;.nbsp; and I wake up.