A PERFECT RENDEZVOUS

Fool For You

The Blazer's motor was idling, exhaust curling thickly from its tailpipe into the frosty air of dawn as they stood beside the car. "There's no snow in the weather forecast," Zayn said, glancing up at the faint pink sunrise streaking the sky as he reached around the steering wheel and put a thermos full of coffee on the passenger seat beside it. He looked down at Harry, his expression composed. "You should have clear roads all the way back to Texas."

Harry understood the rules for this departure because he'd made them clear this morning—no tears, no regrets—and Harry was trying desperately to seem composed. "I'll be careful."

"Don't speed," he said. As he spoke, he reached out and pulled the zipper of the jacket up higher and then smoothed the collar up closer to his chin. The simple gesture almost made Harry cry. "You drive too damned fast."

"I won't speed."

"Try to get as far from here as possible without being recognized," he reminded Harry again, taking his sunglasses from him hand and sliding them onto his nose. "Once you make it across the Oklahoma line, pull into the first rest stop you pass and leave the car in front of it. Stay out of sight for fifteen minutes, then go straight to the pay phones and call your family. The Feds will be listening in on the conversation, so sound as nervous and confused as you can. Tell them I left you at the rest stop on the floor of the back seat, blindfolded, and that I vanished and you've gotten free. Tell them you're coming home. Once you get home, stick strictly with the truth."

He'd already taken a neck scarf from the house, knotted it as if it had been tied around Harry's head and tossed it in the car this morning. Harry swallowed and nodded because there was nothing left to do or to say—at least, nothing that Zayn wanted to hear.

"Any questions?" Zayn asked.

Harry shook his head.

"Good. Now, kiss me good-bye."

Harry leaned up on his toes to kiss him and was surprised when his arms closed around Harry with stunning force, but his kiss was brief, then Zayn set him away from him. "It's time," he said flatly.

Harry nodded but couldn't seem to move, and his resolve not to make any sort of uncomfortable scene cracked a little. "You'll write to me, won't you?"

"No."

"But you could let me know how you are," Harry said desperately, "even if you can't tell me where you are. I have to know you're safe! You said yourself they won't watch my mail for very long, if at all."

"If I'm caught, you'll hear about it on the news within hours. If you don't, you'll know I'm safe."

"But why can't you write to me?" Harry burst out and instantly regretted it when Zayn's face became stiff and aloof.

"No letters, Harry! It's over when you leave here today. We're over." The words lashed Harry like whips even though there was no unkindness in his tone. "Tomorrow morning, you are to pick up your old life where you left it. Pretend none of this ever happened, and you'll forget it within weeks."

"Maybe you'll be able to do that, but I won't," Harry said, hating the sound of pleading and tears in his voice. Harry shook his head as if to negate his own words and turned toward the car, angrily brushing his shoulder against his wet eye. "I'm leaving before I make an even bigger fool of myself," he choked.

"Don't," Zayn whispered harshly, catching his arm and stopping him from leaving. "Not like this." Harry looked up into his fathomless eyes, and for the first time, Harry wasn't so certain Zayn was handling this morning's leave-taking as easily as he thought. Putting his hand against the side of Harry's face, he smoothed Harry's hair back and said solemnly, "The only foolish thing you've done in the last week is caring too much about me. Everything else you said and did was ... right. It was perfect."

Closing his eyes, fighting back tears, Harry turned his face into Zayn's hand and kissed his palm as he'd kissed Harry's once before and he whispered against it, "I love you so much."

He jerked his hand away, and his voice turned condescendingly amused. "You don't love me, Harry. You're naive and inexperienced, and you don't know the difference between good sex and real love. Now be a good boy, go home where you belong, and forget about me. That's exactly what I want you to do."

Harry felt as if he'd slapped him, but his wounded pride forced his chin up. "You're right," Harry said with quiet dignity, getting into the car. "It's time to return to reality."

Zayn watched his car disappear around the first curve and vanish from view between the towering snowdrifts. He remained there long after Harry was gone, until the freezing wind finally forced him to remember that he was standing outside in a light jacket. He'd hurt Harry because he had to do it, he reminded himself again as he turned to the house. He couldn't let Harry waste one extra moment of his precious life loving him or missing him or waiting for him. He'd done the right thing, the noble thing, by ridiculing Harry's love.

He went into the kitchen, listlessly picked up the coffee pot, and reached for a mug from the cabinet, then he saw the mug Harry had used that morning, sitting on the counter top. He reached out slowly and picked it up, then he pressed the rim to his cheek.