Until We Meet Again

Chapter Five: Until We Meet Again

At lunch, we sat with our friends, but the usual banter was subdued, everyone's eyes drawn to Andrew's solemn expression. He tried to smile, to keep the mood light, but there was a distant look in his eyes that none of us could ignore. Rose squeezed my hand under the table, offering me a sad smile, but even she struggled to keep the mood from slipping away. In class, Andrew looked over at me often, as if he was memorizing my face. I held his gaze, doing the same, etching every detail into my memory: the warmth in his eyes, the slight dimple on his cheek when he half-smiled, the way he nervously tapped his foot when he was thinking.

Finally, the end of the day came. He walked me home, silent for most of the way, only his hand in mine reminding me that he was still here. When we reached my door, he paused, turning to face me. His eyes were filled with a mixture of determination and heartbreak, and he cupped my face gently, his thumb brushing along my cheek.

"I'll write you every chance I get, Margaret," he murmured, his voice rough but steady. "I'm gonna miss you more than you know."

And then, just as I opened my mouth to respond, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to my forehead, lingering for just a moment. I closed my eyes, trying to memorize the feel of him, his warmth, his scent, everything about this moment. When he finally pulled back, he managed a sad smile, squeezing my hand one last time before turning and walking away, leaving me with a heart both broken and full of love. I loved Andrew Windsor. With my whole heart.

The week passed in a blur, every day with Andrew feeling precious, like I was holding onto moments that would slip through my fingers if I didn't cling tight enough. He'd show up at my door every morning, that familiar crooked smile soft but somehow different, as if he were taking me in, cherishing me. I'd grab his hand and hold on tightly, almost too tightly, as we wandered around town, talking about silly things or sometimes saying nothing at all, just the sound of our steps and his hand warm against mine. One afternoon, we ended up under the big oak tree at the edge of town where we'd carved our initials. I watched him trace those letters, his hand brushing mine, and I thought he might say something, something big. But instead, he just looked at me, eyes a little sad, a little intense, like he was holding back words that wouldn't come. He leaned in, close enough that I thought he might kiss me, so close I could feel his breath on my lips. But then he pulled back, looking away, his jaw clenched, like he was fighting to stay strong. That night, he had dinner with my family for the first time, and I couldn't help but notice how he looked in the candlelight, like he was both the boy I knew and someone braver, older. After dinner, we slipped out to the porch, and I tucked my arm around his as we sat in the quiet. I pressed my head to his shoulder, breathing in the smell of him, his cologne, basking in it. He wrapped his arm around me, his hand settling on my back, each touch filled with longing, like we both knew how much we needed this. He kissed the top of my head, soft and lingering, and I had to close my eyes to keep from crying. The next day, we went to the fairground on the edge of town. I laughed when he tried to win me a stuffed bear at one of the booths, watching him miss time after time, and he just grinned, his eyes never leaving mine. When we got on the Ferris wheel, he took my hand as we rose higher, holding it tightly. At the top, the view stretched out in every direction, fields and trees bathed in the late afternoon sun. I turned to him, catching him looking at me, and he leaned in again, his face so close I could feel the warmth of his breath. But again, he hesitated, pulling back with a look in his eyes that told me he was holding himself back, afraid that if he kissed me, we'd break. On our last evening, we went to the lake. The sun was setting, making the night more beautiful, and we sat on the grass side by side, holding hands, our shoulders pressed together. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, Andrew led me to the edge of the lake. The water sparkled invitingly, and I could hear the soft lapping of the waves against the shore. I glanced at him, unsure of what he had in mind.