Never Summer Again

Chapter Fifty-Three - It Will Never Be Summer Again

Mark/Lydia

Score: Cruel Summer - Taylor Swift

Lydia

"Are you OK, miss?" The annoyed voice of the driver takes me out of my trance. I blink quickly, trying to get a grasp of where I am. It is completely dark outside and the rain has picked up again. The lights of the airport terminal look spookily distorted by the streams of rain, falling down the window of the car.

My eyes instantly shoot to my phone in my hand.

Fucking hell! I've been sitting in the car outside of Heathrow Airport for twenty-five minutes.

"Yes, I'm fine," I say, looking up to meet the driver's eyes in the rearview window.

"Did you need anything else? A lift somewhere else, maybe?" He says again, the message clear. Get the fuck out of the car.

I swallow hard, looking at my phone again.

Mark's flight status has moved on to Boarding. It was still In Check-In when I got here, but I couldn't get myself to get out of the car. I got into this spiral, thinking about us growing up together, then the times, when we grew apart, which also happen to be the most challenging times of our lives, and how he got back into my life just to turn it upside down.

It really hurts. Every nerve ending in my body misses him, and there's nothing that I want more in this world than to touch his face again,...to hear his voice and to look into his eyes of molten gold.

On the way here, I had it all planned out in my head. How I'd run across the airport, only to find out that Mark's gone through Security already, and I'd buy a ticket to wherever, to get past security, just like Gloria had done, when she came to get me when I was about to go on the Eurostar.

How I'd stand in front of the flight schedule, looking for his gate, and how I'd find it at the very bottom and run towards it, while epic music fills the airport. How I'd reach the gate just when he's about to go into the sleeve, and I'd call out his name...and how he'd turn slowly, as if he can't really believe I'm there, his golden-brown eyes wide with surprise. And then, we'd run towards each other and throw our arms around each other, and we'd kiss, while everyone oohs and aahs, and applauds us.

More epic music.

And then, I'd break the kiss and I'd look into his eyes, and I'd tell him I love him at last. And he'd smile, and we'd kiss again, and then we'd go back to his mum's and make love until we are completely spent.

Just like in the movies.

And then it hit me.

This isn't a fucking movie.

What if he doesn't want me anymore? What if I get to him only to be rejected? What if he chooses to go on that plane, anyway? What if he chooses his family and his father's company over this absurd mess that we are?

How will I ever survive that? He hurt me beyond measure, yet, here I am, fantasizing about our reunion out of a romance novel. But what if things in real life don't work out as they do in romance novels? What if showing vulnerability and baring myself to the last fucking nerve to Mark, only ends up in me being hurt again?

Of all the horrible stuff that has happened recently, I fear that this would be the one that I wouldn't be able to recover from.

Not to mention, how the fuck am I going to explain to Security why I'm walking around with fifty thousand pounds in cash? Pretty sure the scan is going to pick up on that little detail.

So, I froze. Again. I've been going back and forth in my mind about all the possibilities and about everything that can potentially go wrong ever since I got to the airport. Because that's the way my brain fucking works and Gloria and Alex aren't around to tell me to grow a fucking vagina and just go for it.

"Miss, I'm sorry, but I have another pick up on hold," the driver says again.

"Of course," I say. "I'm sorry. Can you get me back, please?" I say, refreshing the app again. The flight is about to take off. Only five minutes left. "Can you please just wait five more minutes? Please?" I meet the man's gaze in the rearview mirror again. His brows furrow, but he doesn't say anything, He just nods briefly. I can tell he's not very happy, so I make a mental note to give him a generous tip. After all, I got fifty thousand pounds richer today.

I just want to see the status of Mark's flight change to Departed. I just need it. Maybe, I hope that it'll make it a little easier to say goodbye. To know that I've seen him go. That I was there.

Something that I hear over the radio catches my attention. Radio 1 is blasting through the speakers of the car. There is a break between songs and the radio host says that today is the last day of the meteorological summer in Britain.

But why do I feel like, for me, it is never going to be summer again?

Mark

I glance through the illuminator, but it is pitch black outside. I can see the flickering lights of the runway and the lights from the terminal, blurred out by the rain, but nothing more. I lean back in my seat and heave out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

Why is it so hard to leave? I feel like I felt on that flight from Milan, all those years ago, after Lydia and I first kissed. I feel like I'm running away.

I laugh at the thought. Why is it that every time I try to run away from Lydia, our paths seem to bring us back together, again and again, until we collide, chipping away some of each other's hard shells?

But no more. This is the last time I'm getting on a plane that'll take me away from her. When I come back to get her, I will never leave.

I really hope that my plan works. I managed to draw Gloria to my side and now I hope she keeps her part of the deal. If everything goes as planned, I should be holding Lydia in my arms again sooner rather than later.

I slip my phone out of the front pocket of my jeans. I have an unread message. My heart leaps in my chest, hoping that it's from Lydia, as it has been ever since the night in Gloria's driveway, and I have had a missed call or a new message. It hasn't happened so far, and this time is no different.

I open the message and read it, then hit reply and type "Thanks, asshole. I appreciate it. About to take off now." I hit send, and, just as I am about to put my phone in flight mode, I receive a reply.

Wow. That was fast. He must have been anticipating my message.

I read the reply and smile, and then put my phone into flight mode and put my earphones in. It's going to be a long flight, and two even longer months are lying ahead of me.

But, if I have learned one thing this summer, it is that it is worth waiting for the good things in life.